by Alten-Steve
AFRICA
Algeria Botswana Egypt Ivory Coast Israel Libya
Madagascar Morocco [Atlas Mountains] Niger Nigeria
Saudi Arabia Sudan Tunisia
EUROPE
Austria Bosnia-Herz. Bulgaria Croatia Greece Hungary
Ireland Italy Spain
NORTH AMERICA
Canada: Montreal
Cuba
USA: Arecibo [Puerto Rico] Appalachian Valley Colorado
Florida [Central & Southeast] Georgia Kentucky
Indiana [Southern] Ozark Mountains New Mexico
Texas [Northwest]
SOUTH AMERICA
Salvador [Brazil]
CENTRAL AMERICA
Honduras Chichén Itzá [Yucatán]
Mick scans the list, pausing at the name of the last site. “A drone landed in Chichén Itzá?”
“Enough of this nonsense,” Chaney snaps. “Gabriel, I need some answers, and I need them now. While you’ve been lying here asleep, the world’s lost its collective mind. Religious fanatics are claiming these drones to be part of the Apocalyptic prophecies predicted for the new millennium. The world’s economy has ground to a halt. Terrified masses are preparing for Armageddon. Mobs are hoarding supplies and ammunition and boarding themselves up in their homes. We’ve had to institute dusk-to-dawn curfews. And what’s fueling these fires more than anything is our own inability to ease the public’s concern.”
“So far, our attempts at neutralizing these drones have been ineffective,” Marvin says. “The creatures are held within some kind of protective force field, which makes them invulnerable to attack. While the Mayan array is preventing them from exploding, it’s also jamming the hell out of our satellites. What’s even more incredible is the manner in which the array’s signal is being bounced around the globe.” He removes his notepad. “We’ve isolated three global relay stations, as well as additional signatures from several other antennae. You’ll never guess—”
“The Great Pyramid in Giza, Angkor Wat, and the Sun Pyramid in Teotihuacán.”
The exobiologist’s mouth drops open.
Chaney’s eyes burn like dark lasers. “How the hell did you know that?” He looks at Dominique. “Did you tell him?”
“She didn’t tell me,” Mick says, forcing himself to sit up. “My parents studied those structures for decades. Each monolith shares certain similarities, not the least of which is that they’ve all been erected at integral points along the Earth’s natural power grid.”
“Sorry, you lost me there,” Marvin says, jotting down notes. “Did you say power grid?”
“The Earth is not just some hunk of rock floating in space, Marvin, it’s a living, harmonic sphere, at the heart of which is a magnetic core that channels energy. Certain locations along the planet’s surface, especially around the equator, are considered power areas, dynamic locations radiating high levels of geothermal, geophysical, or magnetic energy.”
“And these three ancient sites—they were all built on power areas?”
“That’s right. Each structure also reflects an advanced knowledge of precession, mathematics, and astronomy within its design.”
Marvin stops writing. “We’ve also pinpointed alien devices that seem to be functioning as antennae, buried beneath Stonehenge and the city of Tiahuanaco. We believe another may be buried deep beneath the Antarctic ice sheet.”
Mick nods. The Piri Re’is map. Guardian must have constructed the antennae before the ice sheets formed. He looks up at Dominique. “Did you tell them about the Nephilim?”
“All that I know, which isn’t much.”
“An advanced race of humanoids?” Marvin shakes his head. “I’m supposed to be the exobiologist around here, and I’m confused as hell.”
“Marvin, the beings that created this array had to be certain their relay stations and antennae would remain undisturbed over thousands of years. Even burying them wouldn’t ensure their safety. Building a vast architectural wonder like Stonehenge or the Great Pyramid directly over the site was inspired thinking. Even modern man knew enough to leave these ruins alone.”
“What about the array?” Chaney says. “How long will it keep these drones from detonating?”
The memory of Guardian’s words echoes in his ears. The porthole to Xibalba Be will ascend on 4 Ahau, 3 Kankin. It can only be destroyed from within. Only a Hunahpu can enter. Only a Hunahpu can expel the evil from your garden and save your species from annihilation.
Mick feels queasy. “We have a problem. That alien vessel— it’s going to ascend tomorrow—”
Chaney’s eyes widen. “How do you know that?”
“It’s part of a 3,000-year-old Mayan prophecy. The entity within the vessel. We have to destroy it. We have to get inside.”
“How do we get inside?” Marvin asks.
“I don’t know, I mean, I guess the same way Dom and I entered before, through its ventilation system.” A wave of exhaustion overcomes him. He closes his eyes.
Dominique touches his forehead, registering a fever. “He’s had enough, President Chaney. He’s done his part to save the world; now go and do yours.”
Chaney’s eyes lose a bit of their harshness. “Our scientists happen to agree with you, Gabriel. They feel we need to destroy the alien vessel to end the threat of the drones exploding. I’ve ordered the John C. Stennis and her fleet into the Gulf of Mexico to do the job. If that vessel really is going to rise tomorrow, then we’ll blow it out of the water.”
The new president stands to leave. “An emergency meeting of the UN Security Council has been scheduled for seven o’clock this evening aboard the Stennis. We’re expecting representatives from every nation, as well as some of the top scientists from around the world. You and Dominique are coming with us. One of my aides will bring you something to wear.”
“Wait,” Dominique says. “Tell him about Borgia.”
“Your would-be assassin led us straight to Dr Foletta. His confession included information about how Borgia managed to have you committed to an asylum eleven years ago. Even provided us with a tape of the secretary of state hiring him to kill you.” Chaney offers a grim smile. “I’ll be nailing his ass to the wall once things settle down. Meanwhile, Dominique and her mother are off the hook, and you’ve been certified as competent, so you are a free man, Gabriel, as loony as the rest of us.”
Dominique whispers in Mick’s ear. “Your nightmare’s over. No more asylums, no more solitary confinement. You’re free.” She squeezes his hand. “We can spend the rest of our lives together.”
Aboard the aircraft carrier John C. Stennis 6:43 p.m.
Mick gazes out the window of the chopper as the airship descends upon the enormous four-and-a-half-acre flight deck of the John C. Stennis, now a virtual parking lot of helicopters.
Dominique squeezes his hand. “You okay? You haven’t said a word the entire flight.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re worried about something. What aren’t you telling me?”
“My memories of my conversation with Guardian are vague. There’s still so much I don’t understand, things that might make the difference between life and death.”
“But you are still convinced the Guardian’s array was designed to prevent these drones from exploding?”
“Yes.”
“Then the president’s right. If we destroy the alien vessel, we’ll end the threat.”
“I wish it was that simple.”
“Why isn’t it?” They step off the chopper onto the spongy gray deck of the carrier. Dominique points to the warship’s battery of weapons. “Look around you, Mick. There’s enough firepower aboard this ship to wipe out a small country.” She slips her arm around his waist, whispering into his ear. “Face it, you’re a hero. Against all odds you managed to enter the pyramid and activate the array. You not only vindicated your parents’ work, your efforts saved the lives of two billion people. It’s time to give yourself a break. Step aside and let the big boys fi
nish the job.” She kisses him passionately on the lips, causing a few sailors to whistle.
A lieutenant escorts them into the superstructure, then down a tight stairwell to the hangar deck.
They pass through a heavily guarded security checkpoint, then enter the hangar bay, one-fourth of which has been hastily converted into an auditorium. A horseshoe configuration of folding chairs and tables, three rows deep, has been set up to face a podium and an enormous twenty-foot-high-by-forty-foot-long computerized map of the world, mounted high along one section of the hangar’s steel bulkhead. Thirty-eight red pinpoints of light, another six in blue, indicate the drone landing spots on the map.
The lieutenant leads them to a reserved table on the left side of the horseshoe. A few delegates seem to recognize Mick, pointing at him as he walks by, nodding. A smattering of applause quickly builds to a standing ovation.
Marvin Teperman looks up from his seat and smiles at him. “At least acknowledge them, eh?”
Mick offers a quick wave, then takes his place next to the exobiologist, feeling ridiculous. United Nations Security Council President Megan Jackson walks over and greets him with a warm smile and handshake. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr Gabriel. We’re all indebted. Is there anything we can do for you?”
“You can tell me why I’m here. I’m not a politician.”
“The president and I had hoped your presence might ease some of the hostility in this room.” She points to a Russian delegation. “The man in the middle is Viktor Grozny. I daresay most of the people in this room would prefer him dead. The paranoia now existing between Russia and the United States makes the Cold War look like a family outing.”
She offers a motherly smile, then takes her place at the podium. “If I may call this meeting to order.”
The delegates take their seats. Marvin hands Dominique and Mick sets of small headphones. Removing them from their cellophane wrappers, they set the translator dials to ENGLISH, then place them over their ears.
“I call first to the dais Professor Nathan Fowler, Associate Director of the NASA Ames Research Center and head of the international team investigating the alien drones. Professor?”
A bespectacled gray-haired man in his late sixties takes his place at the podium.
“Madam President, honored delegates, fellow scientists, I’m here tonight to update you on the alien objects whose detonations have already led to the deaths of more than two million people. Despite this tragedy, the evidence I am about to share with you clearly indicates that the extraterrestrial’s primary objective was not to annihilate our species. In fact, our presence on this planet is about as important to this alien intelligence as a flea to a dog.”
Murmurs fill the room.
“Our team has conducted a thorough analysis of comparison among every one of the forty-four identified drone targets. These locations share one thing in common—the geology of each site is composed entirely of limestone. In fact, let me take that one step further—most of the sites targeted qualify as karst landscapes—a dense limestone formation composed of extremely high levels of calcium carbonate.
“Karst landscapes make up one-sixth of our planet’s landmass. They were created about four hundred million years ago when high levels of calcium carbonate was deposited on what was then the tropical seafloor of—”
“Professor, in the interest of time—”
“Huh? Oh, of course, Madam President. If you’ll just allow me a brief moment to explain the importance of limestone on our planet, then I think everyone will gain a greater understanding as to the reasons these drones were launched.”
“Proceed, but be quick.”
“Karst formations, and limestone in general, perform a critical function on Earth by serving as vast planetary storehouses of carbon dioxide. Calcium carbonate in karst absorbs dissolved carbon dioxide like a sponge, helping to regulate and stabilize our oxygen environment. In fact, the amount of carbon dioxide stored within sedimentary rock is more than six hundred times the total carbon content of the Earth’s air, water, and living cells combined.”
Dominique looks at Mick, whose complexion has turned deathly pale.
The NASA director removes a remote keypad linked to the computerized map overhead.
“Madam President, I’m going to use our computer to simulate what would happen if every one of the thirty-eight remaining drones were to simultaneously explode. Please take special note of the atmospheric temperature and carbon dioxide readings.”
A hush falls over the delegation as the professor types in a set of commands.
Two icons appear in blue along the lower border of the overhead map.
Mean Global Surface Temperature:
12/20/12
70 degrees F. (21 degrees C.)
CO2 Content: 0.03%
Fowler strikes another key. The glowing red dots flash in unison, then ignite into bright, alabaster circles of energy. Within seconds, the explosions fade into a global fallout of dense yellow-orange debris clouds, which spread quickly over the surrounding areas, encompassing nearly a third of the Earth’s surface.
Mean Global Surface Temperature:
12/20/12 (Detonation plus 10 hours)
132 degrees F. (55.5 degrees C.)
CO2 Content: 39.23%
Fowler adjusts his glasses. “The heat from the explosions would immediately vaporize the karst limestone, releasing toxic levels of carbon dioxide into our planet’s atmosphere. The cloud cover you now see expanding across the map is a dense atmospheric layer of CO2, enough to kill every air-breathing organism on this planet.”
A hundred conversations break out at once.
Fowler strikes his keypad again while the UN leader calls for order.
The map changes. Swirling yellow-orange clouds now blot out the entire globe.
Mean Global Surface Temperature:
12/20/22
(Detonation plus 10 years)
230 degrees F. (100 degrees C.)
CO2 Content: 47.85%
SO2 Content: 23.21%
The room quiets.
“Here we see Earth’s environmental progression after ten years. What we’re looking at is the catastrophic reorganization of our planet’s atmosphere, the beginning of a runaway greenhouse effect, similar to one we believe occurred on Venus more than six hundred million years ago. Venus, Earth’s sister planet, once possessed hot oceans and a humid stratosphere. As carbon dioxide built up in its atmosphere, it formed a thick blanket of insulation. This led to the onset of global volcanism, the eruptions serving to compound the greenhouse effect, releasing large quantities of sulfur dioxide into the atmosphere while continuing to raise surface temperatures. Eventually, Venus’s oceans vaporized entirely, forming dense clouds of precipitation. Some of this precipitation continues to encircle the planet, while the rest dispersed into space.”
“Professor, have CO2 levels risen noticeably since the explosions of the first seven drones?”
“Yes, Madam President. In fact, carbon dioxide levels have increased by 6 to 7 percent over the—”
“Enough of this!” Viktor Grozny is standing, his gaunt face red. “I came here to negotiate the terms of an armistice, not to listen to nonsense about aliens.”
The UN leader raises her voice above an outburst of protests. “President Grozny, are you questioning whether this extraterrestrial threat exists?”
“We’ve been informed the drone threat has been eliminated, that this—this array prevents their detonation. Is this not so, Mr Fowler?”
Fowler looks apprehensive. “It would appear that the drones will not detonate as long as the pyramid’s array remains intact. But the threat is still—”
“Then why are we wasting time discussing this now? I say we leave this to our scientists. It was my understanding that this assembly was to be political in nature. Despite numerous threats on my life, I have come to this meeting in good faith. It was Russian and Chinese civilians who died in these pure-fusion holocausts. Death is d
eath, Madam President, whether it comes from nuclear annihilation, asphyxiation, or starvation. Let the West and their superior weaponry destroy this alien vessel. As we speak, thousands of my people are starving to death. What we need to discuss is how we are going to change the world—”
“And who are you to demand change?” General Fecondo responds, fists balled as he stands. “Your concept of change was to engage the United States in nuclear war. The West gave your country billions of dollars in aid to feed your people and stimulate your economy, instead you spent it on weapons—”
Mick closes his eyes to the verbal joust, focusing instead on Professor Fowler’s words. He thinks back to when he was in the alien chamber beneath the Gulf. He remembers the cut on his leg.
My blood was blue. The chamber’s atmosphere must have been carbon dioxide.
He recalls Guardian’s words … The conditions on your world were not suitable, the intended target Venus … your world is being acclimatized.
“You come to us for aid,” Dick Prystas bellows, “yet look how quick you were to destroy the hand you now ask to feed your people!”
“What choice had we?” Grozny retorts. “You coerce us into signing strategic arms agreements while your scientists continue working on methods of destroying us. What good are treaties when America’s newest technologies are more deadly than the antiquated missiles you’ve so graciously eliminated?” Grozny turns to face the rest of the assembly. “Yes, it was Russia that launched first, but we were provoked. The United States has thrown around its military might for decades. Our informants tell us the Americans are less than two years from completing their own pure-fusion explosives. Two years! If these extraterrestrials had not attacked, then the United States would have.”
The room grows loud again.
Grozny points an accusing finger at Chaney. “I ask the new American president—is peace truly your objective— or war?”
Chaney stands, waiting for the room to quiet. “There is blood on every hand in this room, President Grozny. Every conscience is shamed with guilt, every mind entangled in fear. But, for the grace of God, we might all be dead. We’ve behaved like selfish children, all of us, and if we have any hopes of surviving as a species, then we must put aside our petty differences, once and for all, and grow up.”