by S. T. Boston
“I did you a favour,” whispered Finch, as he ducked in behind the counter and began going through the dead tour guide's pockets, eventually finding what he was after clipped to a keychain on Karim's belt. The small bunch of padlock keys seemed rather unimpressive compared to the building they opened, there were no other keys anywhere in the small ticket office. He just hoped the keys would unlock whatever barrier or door sealed off the lower chamber. Tucking the gun into his waistband and hiding it under his shirt, Finch left the small office, flipping the sign on the door to 'CLOSED' as he went.
“Chatter on many of the government lines is suggesting they might close the airports in as soon as thirty minutes,” said Mitchell, when Finch climbed back into the Volvo.
“That soon!” exclaimed Buer from the front seat. “Originally, we estimated it would take just over twenty-four hours for them to reach that point.”
“It seems the CDC in Vermont got hold of some of the very early cases. The U.S government has a good idea of what they're facing, although they're not making it public knowledge.” Mitchell shut down the iPad and placed it on the seat next to him; he always seemed to be glued to some kind of computer screen.
“Are we in?” asked Buer, turning his attention to Finch.
“The guide couldn't be persuaded with hard cash,” he replied, tossing the keys to Buer who caught them with lightning fast reflexes.
“That's funny, I thought most things in this part of the world had a price. I take it you had to use other means?”
“You could say that,” Finch grinned, placing the large Volvo into drive and creeping forward. Despite the developing situation everywhere in the world, there were still a good few tourists hanging around the area. Those who'd spent the whole day out exploring the plateau's many treasures might not even be aware of the unfolding events. Finch glanced in the rearview mirror; former General Harrison Stone was behind the wheel of an identical vehicle, following them. Finch could just make out his grey hair behind the steering wheel; he looked too short to have ever been anyone in a position of authority. Accompanying him were three of Buer's security team, Tom Ellis, Mike Hardy and Troy Jennings; hired muscle no different than the Malone brothers who would have no doubt been here, had they not been killed back in Colorado. Despite the gravity of the event, it was a relatively small team. The theory was simple, get inside the structure, then get to the lower level. From there it was up to Buer and what he'd managed to learn from the girl to make it all happen.
Finch abandoned the Volvo in an area designated for coaches. The last tours had left almost an hour ago, the only people now wandering around were roaming souvenir sellers and those families with hire cars enjoying the quieter evening period. Unless it was cancelled, more coaches would be pouring in once it got dark, bringing droves of eager tourists to watch the night time light and sound show. With events developing as fast as they were, Finch doubted there would be a party here tonight.
“You take up position outside,” instructed Buer, leaning into Stone's vehicle. “Keep your eyes peeled, there's no point in us taking walkies. Once we get below ground, they'll be useless.”
“No problem,” replied Stone. His military experience meant he was more than used to taking orders. “Are you expecting company?”
“I doubt it, but stay alert,” barked Buer. “Mitchell just checked, the flight Oriyanna is on is still inbound, and they won't land for almost an hour yet. There's a very good chance we will reach the Tabut before they land. If we do and it works – well, let's just say I don't think they'll be giving us any problems.”
“And Xavier?” asked Stone.
“No sign of him. I think we can assume he was still at the house back in Austin when we destroyed it.”
“If it's all the same with you, sir, I don't like to assume anything” said Stone bluntly.
“Fine,” Buer replied. “Sit tight, it's going to be a long, but historic night.” He patted the top of the Volvo and went around to the back, opening the trunk.
“Are you sure that's going to cause a big enough bang?” asked Finch, eyeing an explosive device in Buer's padded flight case. “It doesn't look like it would do much damage.”
“The explosion doesn't need to be that big!” snapped Buer furiously. “When it detonates, the Tabut on Arkkadia will be active. The explosion will be amplified millions of times and it will cause more damage than you could ever imagine. Now stop questioning and start helping.” Buer clipped the case shut and handed it to Finch, who carried it by the shoulder strap. Taking the weight of the device he felt his back sag a little; it was heavier than it looked. Buer slammed the trunk lid down with a sharp crack before taking the Key Tablet from his pocket and examining it for a second. “Let's get moving,” he instructed. “Mitchell; you're with us, I doubt I'll need it, but we might want your tech brain for something.” Mitchell dropped in behind Finch as they walked out onto the flat-packed sand; a light evening breeze was starting to kick up a little dust which swirled around their ankles as they walked toward the Great Pyramid. The structure loomed oppressively before them, dwarfing even Buer's massive frame.
* * *
From across the plateau, Stone watched the three figures growing smaller by the minute as they approached the ominous ancient structure. “Okay, let's kit up” he began. “I want line of sight on all four corners. Stay in contact, I've set the radios to channel four.” He fished the small handsets out of the glove box and distributed them, keeping one for himself. “Anything remotely suspicious, call it in. We can't have this going south on us, Finch knows only too well how unforgiving Buer can be about avoidable mistakes.” He clicked his radio on and keyed the mic, sending an immediate squawk of feedback through the Volvo. “Keep your guns in their covert harnesses. There are still tourists about, and we don't want to raise any suspicions.” Stone cracked the door open and jumped down onto the sand. After the chilly air-conditioning inside the Volvo, the warm afternoon desert air hit him with the same intensity as opening an oven door. “Ellis, you and Hardy take the far side. Jennings, you take the back corner nearest to us. I'll take the front; I want eyes on the main entrance.” The three men, all decked out in matching desert combat attire, nodded in understanding. “Once you're in position, check your radios, then remove the batteries and put them in this, until after the EMP.” He handed them all a metallic zip bag. “Keep your phones switched on, that way you'll know when it's hit. After that maintain radio silence unless you have something to report.” Stone went to the back of the rental and took three large Camelback bottles out of his holdall. “You're going to be out there for a few hours, so take these,” he continued, handing out the bottles one at a time. “It will cool off considerably when it gets dark in the next hour, but stay hydrated. Is that clear?”
His instructions were met with a united “Sir” as they all tucked their drink ration into large hip pockets on their matching trousers.
“Okay, let's move out!” Stone concluded. Following the same line as Buer had a few minutes before, he headed out across the plateau toward the Pyramid. To his right, the Sphinx sat pensively, as it had for thousands of years, a stone guardian keeping a watchful eye on all that passed her by.
* * *
Finch climbed the rough cut stone steps first, the stolen bunch of keys in his hand. As he ascended he kept an eye on the few tourists below, making the most of the last light of the day to grab a few photos of the famous structures. They were going to have a nasty wakeup call when they got back to their hotels. He wondered how many of them had developed the rash and headache during the day but chose to ignore it, putting it down to the hot weather. Reaching the bar-like metal door he paused and examined the chunky padlock which secured it in place. The door seemed almost new, its predecessor had obviously failed to stand up to the harsh conditions of the desert like the Pyramids had. Shuffling through the keys he found one that showed the same manufacturer's symbol as the padlock. The key slipped in on the first attempt and clicked the lock
open with ease.
“We're in,” he said, turning back to glance at Buer and Mitchell who were waiting behind him. Finch took one last cautionary look around before cracking the door open and slipping inside.
The air in the entrance corridor was cool and damp; it smelt as if it had been sealed up in the pyramid for a thousand years. Thankfully, the lighting system was still on, negating the need for using torches. Following the entrance passage Finch led the way, and the deeper he went, the damper and cooler the air became, the lighting system casting the walls in an eerie orange glow. Following the downward sloping tunnel, Finch came to a switch in the passageways. The iron grated prison-style door which led further into the bowels of the structure was what he was looking for. The brightly lit tourist route switched to an upward passage which carried on to the Main Gallery.
“This is it.” Buer's thunderous voice came from behind. It echoed off the cool stone walls, amplifying it so it sounded deeper and louder than normal. In the dim artificial light Finch checked the padlock. It bore the same symbol as the one on the main entrance. None of the other keys looked as if they matched, but holding his breath, he tried the same key. It fit. Whoever was in charge of the security had one set of locks for the whole site. It made sense, really, there was nothing inside the pyramid to actually steal. Finch swung the metal door open, and it squeaked loudly on its unused hinges, the shrill shriek echoing off the walls and bouncing off into the depths of the darkened corridor before him. The darkened stairs looked to descend forever, and if there were any lights in the bowels of the structure, they weren't on. Buer took his torch and clicked it to life; the beam sliced through the perpetual darkness like a dagger.
“I'll take it from here,” he boomed confidently. “Mitchell, you come up front with your flashlight as well. The next chamber is a good twenty meters or more below ground, so we have quite a climb.”
After a few minutes the stairs levelled out into the lower chamber. The chilled air had cooled enough for Finch to see his breath in the torchlight, as it bounced off the smooth flat walls. To his right, the room raised up onto a roughly cut platform which had a deep channel carved through the middle. “So, what are we looking for?” he asked, adjusting the flight case on his shoulder.
“Over here,” came Buer's voice though the darkness. “We need to get down there.” He pointed his torch to a pit directly opposite where they had come out of the access tunnel. Finch made his way over and peered into its mouth. Buer's torch cast back the darkness, finding the bottom around ten feet below. The base of the well-like feature was made of smooth rock. “That's where we need to be,” claimed Buer, scaling the protective railing. “Take this,” he said to Finch, handing him the Key Tablet. “I want us all to be ready before it comes down.”
Finch and Mitchell watched as Buer jumped down into the pit, hitting the bottom with a thwack that bounced back up the shaft to meet them.
“I'll go next,” said Mitchell, sitting down and sliding himself over the edge. Reaching up, Buer was able to catch hold of his feet and lower him down.
“Pass the case down,” called Buer. Using the long shoulder strap, Finch leaned over the edge and lowered the case, until it was just a few feet from Buer's outstretched arms. Praying he wouldn't drop it Finch let go and hoped for the best. Through the gloom he saw Buer catch it and slide the case down his body before placing it on the floor. Finch tucked the Key Tablet into his pocket. The strange object seemed to be glowing brighter than ever, and there was no distinguishable difference between when he had or didn't have hold if it. Sliding his rear over the dusty rock, Finch eased over the edge. Buer wasn't there to support his feet, and with a flurry of scrapes and scratches he fell over and bumped down the side, hitting the hard rock base with a thump. The moment he hit the deck the seemingly solid rock floor shifted with a mechanical whine, stone grinding on stone causing a series of sharp cracks to echo through the chamber. Slowly at first, but with gathering pace, the base descended deeper beneath the pyramid than anyone had been for more than three millennia.
The drop lasted for about ten seconds before the stone elevator came to a grinding stop at the bottom. Buer ran his torch around the seamless circular wall; it seemed as if they were lodged in a stone tube. “Pass me the Key Tablet,” he said, holding his hand out. Removing it from his pocket, Finch handed it over, the strange metal had stepped up its unusual glow another notch, and the vibrations coming off the metal were almost audible. “We must be close now,” Buer exclaimed, holding the artefact up. “This thing is going nuts.” He placed the Key Tablet against the curved stone as Finch and Mitchell looked on, both praying that something would happen. It was a good hundred feet back to the top, and with no means to climb they would be truly stuck. As the Key Tablet completed one circuit of the stone wall, a sound echoed up the shaft sounding like the release of gas under pressure. Part of the wall dropped away below the platform, revealing a perfectly smooth glass-like corridor that luminesced subtly of its own accord in the gloom. The metal appeared to be the same as that of the Key Tablet. The odd tunnel stretched down about another hundred feet before coming to an end. Buer stepped out of the lift shaft, and the moment his feet touched the flat glowing surface it started to shine brightly around him. Finch and Mitchell both quickly followed suit, and the gentle hum of the unearthly material resonated through their shoes and up their bodies like a tuning fork.
“I've never seen anything like it!” exclaimed Mitchell, staring around in wonder.
“No one has seen this for thousands of years,” replied Buer, his eyes wide and triumphant. “Come on, we are almost there.” Leading the way, Buer headed down the strange glowing passageway.
“What is this stuff?” asked Finch.
“Taribium,” answered Buer, glancing back. “It's not a natural metal, it's a combination of three different ores found on Arkkadia – it's both a conductor and an amplifier.” Buer reached the end of the corridor first. Unlike the featureless flat walls, it was beautifully inscribed, one side displaying an intricate tableau of the Earth as seen from space, the other an equally impressive etching of Arkkadia. It even appeared to be in scale; Arkkadia stood proudly, the larger of the two planets. Spanning the gap between them was a double helix style engraving which connected and joined the two worlds. Beneath the awe-inspiring picture ran a written engraving. The strange language matched the inscriptions on the Key Tablet.
“Is that Arkkadian?” Finch asked in a low voice.
“It is,” Buer replied flatly, examining the diagram. “It says, 'Joined In Unity, Two Worlds As One'. The Tabut chamber will be just behind this door.”
“Door?” questioned Mitchell. “It looks like a dead end.”
“Things are not always as they seem,” replied Buer, holding the Key Tablet up to a small smooth panel in the middle of the engraved surface. As the two metals made contact, they glowed with the colour of white hot steel for a brief second, before another loud hiss filled the air. The inscribed wall parted in the middle, breaking its perfectly seamless appearance. Earth and Arkkadia separated as the two halves drew back to reveal a breathtaking room, decked in the same mysterious metal as the corridor and the Key Tablet. The Tabut sat directly in front of them on a matching altar. Two long, smooth and rounded poles ran down either side, extending past the body of the artefact by three feet at each end. The main body was decorated lavishly on all four sides in a pattern resembled something you'd see carved onto a fine piece of wooden furniture. Sitting proudly on its flawlessly smooth top were two winged beings, one facing toward the east side of the room and one to the west, their backs arched as they looked jointly to the heavens.
“It looks just like the Earth's history books depict it,” said Mitchell as he gingerly walked into the room, almost expecting to fall through the shimmering floor. Looking down, he could see his own upside down reflection staring back at him. The only thing that stopped the chamber from being a seamless metallic box was a small groove which cut the room perfect
ly in half. It ran along the floor, under the Tabut, up both walls and across the ceiling.
“This device was seen by the eyes of man long ago,” said Buer. His voice fell flatly in the room, the walls failing to bounce back any echo. “They would have used Earth-Humans to help construct this room. It stands to reason that it fell into legend, the only thing becoming distorted over the years being its true purpose. Back in the early days, they would never have been able to comprehend its true meaning.” He approached the altar and reverently ran a hand along the surface of the Tabut. Despite the coolness of the room, the metal was warm to the touch and glowed at the point of contact, leaving a strange trail of light as his fingers passed. “I have longed to see this for more years than either of you can comprehend.”
“Why is the room cut in half?” asked Finch, bending down to examine the groove.
“When singularity is achieved, the west side of the room will sit in Arkkadia, the east will sit on Earth. In two hours from now, you'll get to see for yourself,” replied Buer, unclipping the flight case and examining the bomb. Clipping it shut again, he carried the case across the room, placing it at the Arkkadian end of the Tabut. “When the two worlds join it will automatically appear in Arkkadia. When that happens, I'll power down our side, breaking the contact. They won't have time to react; it will detonate twenty seconds after singularity.” Returning to the centre of the Tabut, Buer stood before the Ark like some manic preacher at an altar; bending down he inserted the Key Tablet into a small slot at the base, precisely in the centre. The vibrations in the room immediately grew louder, reminding Finch of the static heard if you were standing too close to an electrical substation. “After the EMP, I'll take the bomb out of the case and prepare it,” Buer concluded, walking toward the east side of the device. He raised both hands and clasped the two poles, as if he were going to lift it up from one end. The moment his skin made contact, a pulse of electrically-charged air pounded through the room, throwing both Finch and Mitchell to the floor.