The Cydonia Objective mi-3

by David Sakmyster

  Montross nodded, but was barely listening. “It’s clear now. Wipe out the earth, get rid of the competition. Just like the Tower of Babel or the Flood.”

  “Except we’ll do it right this time. And this time, we—the Gods now—will be reborn anew on the planet that is our birthright.”

  “Yeah,” said Alexander, brazen now, “but then what? It’s a desert. No atmosphere, no water. No Fun.”

  Isaac smirked at him and Jacob just licked his lips.

  “Good question,” Montross said. “But I don’t think Mars is their ultimate destination.”

  “True.” Calderon moved up, then placed the Emerald Tablet over the slot. “It’s just a bouncing off point. The stars await—the true birthplace of our race, and we will venture out there, immortal, timeless. Sending out our astral bodies, to which there are no time and space limitations. But first, there is something we must do. One more loose end.”

  Isaac grinned. “About time. We strike at the lunar base.”

  “The what?” Alexander asked.

  “The far side of the moon,” Calderon answered as he lowered the tablet gently into the slot and the machine began to hum “Where the last remnants of Thoth’s guard have lingered. Just as a few of Marduk’s custodians stayed behind on Mars, so did Thoth leave his faithful on the lunar colony.”

  “On the far side,” Montross whispered.

  “Always with its face turned away from Earth,” Calderon said. “Protected from telescopes and other prying eyes.”

  “And from your reach with the HAARP weapon.”

  Calderon nodded, as he finished inserting the tablet. He stepped back. “But now that we know the formula we have the power to separate from matter and can travel to the Mars facility—”

  Alexander got it first. “—Where you can aim from there and strike at the lunar base!”

  Isaac jabbed his brother. “God, he’s slow. Must’ve been home-schooled.”

  Alexander took a step back as the Emerald Tablet disappeared into the slot and the machine trembled, sending vibrations through the floor. Then, it started to glow.

  His skin prickled, and he swooned as a shooting pain tore through his skull.

  Just as quickly as it came on, the pain was gone.

  And he was standing over his body.

  Oh my god, oh my god, oh my—

  A flash of green light, then pain, and he was back.

  Phew! Back inside.

  On the floor, holding his head. Relieved to be back, but just as certain that he’d just been given an opportunity to save the day—

  —and blown it.

  5.

  Mount Shasta

  Phoebe raced out of the control center and rushed down the hall. She thought she’d get there first, but there was already an alarm sounding. Guards raced ahead of her, guns drawn. They took their positions on either side of the door.

  “Orlando!” Phoebe shouted, just as Temple and Diana rounded the corner. “I saw a flash back there of a gun. Someone firing at him.”

  “He was in the room?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know!” She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. Could barely breathe.

  They reached the door together, and when Temple tried it and found it locked, he nodded to the larger guard, who promptly entered an override code on the keypad, then threw the door open.

  Phoebe pushed inside, wriggling in ahead of the guards, just slipping past Temple’s reach as he tried to hold her back.

  “Orlando!” Emotions raging as she ran inside, her heart nearly gave out as soon as she saw him on the ground, face down beside the empty chair.

  “Phoebe, wait!” Temple called, desperation in his voice. Dimly Phoebe thought he was trying to save her from the worst, but it was too late.

  “Damn it, Orlando, don’t you be dead, don’t die on me here.” She dropped to her knees beside him, hands shaking. Touched his shoulder, squeezed it. Then, reached for a pulse.

  “I’m sorry,” Temple whispered, even as his men spread out, searching the room.

  “Sir!” one of them called. “A section of the wall here—it’s gone!”

  Phoebe whimpered as she touched Orlando’s neck. Her fingers shook so badly she couldn’t tell if he had a pulse or not. Instead, she smoothed back his hair, leaned down and gave him a kiss. Works in the Disney movies, she thought. She bent down. Closed her eyes, heard scrambling feet, men rushing out the room through the newly-discovered exit. She caught a strange but familiar smell: of a cavern underground and a fresh stream, clear and pure air.

  Ready to feel his cold skin against her lips, instead she gasped as, with a grunt and a rush of motion, Orlando turned and sat up.

  “Where’d they go!?”

  Phoebe opened her eyes and as she grabbed Orlando’s shoulders she scanned his chest, looking for blood stains and bullet holes.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. Now where’s the Dove?” Orlando stood up, taking great heaving breaths as his head whipped about in confusion. He caught sight of Temple, at the strange, arched doorway that had materialized at the side wall beside the view screen. The edges of the arch looked as though they’d been cauterized, blasted through the metal and concrete and seared right through the bedrock into the waiting tunnel.

  Temple cleared his throat. “Good to see you still up and about, soldier. Now, before we go blundering in after the Dove, why don’t you tell us what happened here?

  Orlando scratched his head, and only now noticed Phoebe gaping at him with a mix of relief and anger. “Wait, are those tears?”

  “Shut up.” She wiped at her eyes. “Saw you get shot, so if you’re from Krypton you better start explaining.”

  Orlando swallowed hard. “All right, but I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”

  “You kidding?” Temple asked. “After what you guys have been through, what we’ve seen? About the only thing I don’t believe in is the Tooth Fairy. But even that, I remain open-minded about.”

  “The Dove had me scanning Mars, looking for an end-around to the shield that’s blocking us up there around the Cydonia region.”

  Phoebe looked closer at him. “And you got it, didn’t you?”

  Orlando grinned sheepishly. “I got something. I questioned whether I could view someone or something else who knew what was up there. And I saw him.”

  “The Tooth Fairy?”

  “The Dove.”

  “So he knew,” Temple said through gritted teeth, drawing the conclusion ahead of Orlando’s schedule. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Knew, and apparently had been dealing with your friends behind the door.”

  “What?!” Both Phoebe and Temple said it at once.

  “Yeah,” Orlando said hurriedly, as he stepped over to the chair and picked up a Twinkie. “Breakfast of champions. Saw a wrapper in my vision, inside Mt. Shasta. I followed one of those glowing orb-UFO-like deals inside.”

  “Foo fighters, we call ’em,” Temple said. “Track ’em sporadically, couple times a year they come out, but they never make contact, and before we can engage, they’re either gone or back in the mountain.”

  Orlando nodded. “Anyway, I saw another one of these chairs. The Dove’s been down there, a special guest apparently. That’s when I came out of the vision, and that’s when he pulled a gun and shot me.”

  “I knew it!” Phoebe said, and again looked at his undamaged chest. “You are from Krypton.”

  “No, but apparently the Dove overestimated his allies.”

  “What do you mean? And hurry,” Temple urged. “My men are itching to go after him, and I’m itching to see what’s down this tunnel.”

  “He shot me,” Orlando said, “but I don’t know how to describe it except to say that time just stopped. The bullet hung in the air a foot from my chest. I couldn’t move, I was stuck in mid lunge for the Dove, and he was frozen with this crap-eating grin on his big face as he pulled the trigger. But then…”

  “Then,” Phoebe whispered, “you saw one of them. The C
ustodians.”

  “Yeah, them.” Orlando took a deep breath. “A bald guy with deep black eyes. Unnerving as hell. His head was huge, and at first I thought, holy crap it’s an alien. But he was tall, and wore a brown robe like some Franciscan monk. And he moved. Damn, did he move. Fast and jerky, like in one spot then the next without even taking a step. Like stop-motion film. I noticed the wall, disintegrated. And then this bald dude with big black eyes like I said, he was there. Staring into the Dove’s eyes and shaking his head sadly.”

  “Then what?” Temple said, still trying to hurry him.

  “Then…” Orlando closed his eyes and shuddered. “And this is why there’s no hurry looking for the Dove.”

  “Oh God,” Phoebe whispered, and then she saw it too:

  The Custodian, from behind. Standing between Orlando and the Dove. First, he plucks the bullet from the air and flicks it with one motion of his finger, sending it sputtering across the room. Then he turns and lays his large palm with its long spindly fingers on the Dove’s forehead, covering his eyes. “We gave you insights, opened your mind. Chose you to be the messenger, but instead you traded our secrets to the Great Enemy and worse, you sold out your own kind. And somehow you thought your actions beyond our sight?” The great bald head shook, and—from another shifting viewpoint—the almond-sized eyes turned even darker.

  “All those things we would allow, as you are a pure spirit of free will. But we cannot allow the death of this one by your hands. So now we must act.”

  The hand moved back and the fingers turned inward slowly, as if squeezing a grapefruit, and formed a fist. And the Dove shook, rose off the floor in an outline of fire, then… imploded. His body was rent to shreds, but all self-contained in a central implosion that swallowed up his entire exploding bulk.

  And then it was gone, and the Custodian turned. “You have work to do.” He placed a finger on Orlando’s forehead and said: “Resume.”

  Phoebe took in a huge gulp of air and returned just as Orlando finished telling the story to Temple.

  “… blew him right up in front of me. And then touched my forehead and told me to get back to work. Like I was some slacker.”

  “Knows you too well,” Phoebe said. “But apparently they have plans for you too.”

  “For both of us.”

  Phoebe and Orlando stared at each other in wonder, until a returning guard yelled: “Nothing there! Ends in a solid rock wall.”

  “Of course,” Temple said. “So what now?”

  Just then, a tiny form entered the room from the hallway.

  “Aria?” Phoebe said, immediately turning at the sound.

  “Glad you’re okay, Orlando,” the Hummingbird said. But she was pale, shaking. And Diana appeared behind her momentarily, pushing the wheelchair with her father.

  “What’s up?” Temple asked, immediately concerned by Diana’s expression.

  “She got a vision,” Diana said. “And it’s a doozy.”

  “We have to get out,” Aria said quietly. “Now!”

  “What?” Temple’s eyes widened.

  “They know. The place in Alaska. They’re getting ready. The Dove, he told them about us. Told them to strike now.”

  “Sir,” said one of the guards, a walkie-talkie to his ear. “Reports from the watch desk. The lights, the orbs—they’re leaving the mountain. All of them!”

  Aria was shaking, her eyes white. “We have to go, have to go, have to—”

  But Phoebe, Orlando and Temple were already running for the door.

  6.

  HAARP

  Xavier Montross knew he only had one shot at this. What that one shot was, however, he had no idea.

  He saw that Mason Calderon had entered the machine. A helmet, full of tube-like wires, sensors and goggles, was lowered over his face, and Calderon stretched out his arms to grip the hand rests. The Emerald Tablet flickered and pulsed, the chair vibrated like some expensive mall store novelty for the rich and lazy, and the senator’s dragon-head cane, which had been leaning against the chair, slid and fell, then rolled—

  —only to be snatched up by Isaac, who raised it up to his face and locked eyes with the dragon.

  Montross saw all this in a distracted, yet hyper-aware state. He noted the technicians in the room above, scrambling, entering coordinates. Saw Calderon’s lips moving, communicating with the techs, barking orders.

  Then Montross saw—or more explicitly—saw outside. Through the walls, into the blinding snowstorm where the hulking shadows of the array devices turned, angled, pointed. Aimed.

  Then, a thousand miles away: a lonely, majestic mountain enjoying its last few moments of peace; multi-colored orbs of light blasting out from invisible pockets in the snowy peaks, hurtling towards elsewhere.

  Within: a young girl, asleep. This one, the Shield, and now it’s down, with none to take its place. But there, in the next room, a sandy-haired woman, staring at screens and astronomical information on the red planet. Diana! She stops momentarily, looking up, then around as if…

  Do you sense me? I’m here, I’m here! But you have to go, have to run. Hear me! Little girl, hummingbird! Tell them, warn them!

  She wakes. It’s done. And hopefully there’s time.

  Surging back now, closer. On the ice-swept dunes, roads barely cleared, a black Jeep Cherokee rumbles at full speed, tearing ahead toward Gacona. Inside: two familiar faces. Nina, Caleb. Hurry—

  —Montross urged as his mind returned. He glanced up.

  There was Calderon, furiously concentrating, aiming, wielding the device as if it was a part of himself, a hideous grin on his face.

  Can they stop it? Montross wondered. Those occupants of the lights? Could they make it here in time, stop the firing sequence? He doubted it. If they could, surely they would have intervened by now.

  Perhaps they weren’t powerful enough.

  Or perhaps they are, Montross thought. But they just won’t get involved. Instead acting the part of gods wholeheartedly, letting those they watch over truly live or die according to their free will.

  A blur, and Alexander was in motion. But Montross knew his intent, saw it first. The boy, his nephew, was going to attempt to knock Isaac down, take the cane and charge Calderon. Only, it wouldn’t work.

  An abrupt, shocking image:

  Alexander on his back, choking on his own blood, hands over his chest. A look of complete confusion and loss on his face.

  Montross wasn’t sure if Isaac killed him or if one of the guards intervened to protect the senator, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

  Montross might not be able to save the world, but he could at least save one person, someone he had come to care about more than he ever imagined.

  He moved, stepping in Alexander’s path, then he rushed Calderon.

  Three steps away, Montross was sure he’d do it, he’d get in there and twist Calderon’s head, snap his neck, rip the Emerald Tablet free and then—

  But that was when he felt a sharp prick, and at first thought he got stung by something. With the next step, however, just as Calderon’s eyes flashed in surprise, Montross felt a warm splash of liquid. And his left side went numb.

  “No!” It was Alexander’s voice.

  Then a chuckle, and Isaac moved into focus. Holding the cane with a sword point dripping red from its tip. Isaac’s grinning face angled down on him as Montross slipped on his own blood, fell to his knees.

  Calderon’s voice: “Damn fool kid! We need him alive. Alive!”

  “He is, dear father. He is.”

  “Pull through, he will,” said Jacob at his other side. But his voice wasn’t as confident.

  Alexander moved into view, his eyes pleading. “Stay with me, uncle Xavier! Stay.”

  But Montross could only shake his head. Leaned forward and whispered: “Don’t give up. Your father’s coming.”

  And then, as the machine rumbled and sparkled with emerald energy, as Calderon roared uncontrollably with the power he sent out
as a conduit, a power surging on a path of destruction toward Mt. Shasta, Montross collapsed.

  7.

  Outside of Gacona—Twilight

  Caleb lowered the binoculars. He shifted on his belly, crept backwards and stood back up when he was out of sight of the HAARP facility. “Can’t see anything through the snowfall.”

  “Not with those eyes,” Nina said, watching with amusement as he brushed the snow off his chest. “Try your other skills.”

  “Try yours. You should be able to zero in on your kids.”

  “Our kids. Plus one of yours.” She leaned back against the Jeep Cherokee. “You’ve got better odds.”

  “And skill, apparently. Even with my drawbacks.”

  “Guilt. Self-oppression.” Nina snickered. “Do you slap yourself for fun or just wallow in your own loathing?”

  “Knock it off and try to help. We’ve got to get in there, and undetected long enough to use this spear and destroy the Emerald Table before it’s used.”

  “Hopefully they haven’t already done it. Those arrays are in motion, from what I can see through the storm.”

  “Either way, let’s go.” He started back for the Jeep. “Maybe we just try the brazen frontal assault and see what happens. Maybe the spear will protect us.”

  Nina laughed. “What’s the quote? ‘Heaven looks after fools, drunks and the United States’?”

  Caleb sighed. “At least with the Spear on our soil, it seems the latter’s been pretty much true. Not sure about fools and drunks, but I’m not seeing an alternative to a foolish act at this point. And besides, with this snowstorm, we might get close without attracting attention.”

  Shrugging, Nina followed, then set a hand on his shoulder as he was about to get in. Caleb turned, surprised, about to shrug away to avoid any psychic intrusion her touch might elicit, but instead, he found she had other plans.

  Her other hand, fast as a bullet, whipped around the back of his neck, and before he could struggle, she pulled his face close and locked her lips on his.