The Cydonia Objective (Morpheus Initiative 03)

by David Sakmyster

  Phoebe quickened the pace, almost pulling Aria off her feet. What was she thinking? They had no weapons. As much as she had hoped to take the weapons off the charred dead men, the guns were partially melted, and way too hot to touch. So they moved ahead, armed with nothing but optimism.

  "Hey ugly!" Aria shouted just as they turned the corner and saw the Eye standing over Orlando. "Back here!"

  Phoebe put her hand around Aria's mouth, but it didn't matter. The Eye had seen. He shined his light on them, catching and blinding them both.

  "Ahhhh," came the echoing sound. "My lost birds. Thought you could fly to freedom?"

  Aria pushed Phoebe's hand away. "I'll never be caged again."

  "Think not?" The voice approaching. The light, brighter.

  "I've seen it," she said defiantly, holding up her arms, wing-like. "You can't catch me."

  "Aria-" Phoebe hissed, trying to pull her back. But then she realized it was too late.

  He came barreling toward them, charging like a madman, his lone eye gleaming with hate.

  Aria smiled as she turned, pulling Phoebe around with her and ducking.

  The Eye saw the move and had a sudden flash. A vision. Too late, he couldn't stop or change his forward momentum—which took him right onto the pressure plate. The mine flattened under his right foot. His left dug in, halting his motion, but he was already falling forward, sliding off the plate.

  "This isn't over." He dropped to a knee, his back leg twisted at a nearly impossible angle, still exerting just enough pressure on the trap to stave off detonation. He closed his eye.

  Behind him, Orlando had stood up, and was backing away after a glance assured him of Phoebe's safety.

  "It's over for you," Aria called back. "And soon for your friends."

  The Eye chuckled. "I have many friends. You may get those here, but the others—the masters I truly serve…" His laughter continued as he sighed and moved his foot off the trap.

  "There will be nowhere to hide."

  The explosion rocked the cavern and sent chunks of flesh and bone in all direction.

  Orlando ducked just in time and kept his head down, hoping the whole roof wouldn't collapse with the blast.

  Finally he stood and looked back, but could barely make anything out. The explosion had taken out the flashlight as well.

  "Phoebs?"

  "Here," came the echoing response. "We're ok. Follow my voice."

  "And watch where you step," came the girl's voice.

  Orlando moved ahead. "Yuch. I'm so taking a shower after this is over."

  Just then, several flashlight beams converged on Phoebe and Aria. Shouts and screams. In Arabic from the left, English from the right.

  Phoebe pushed Aria ahead, toward Orlando and into the branching tunnel just as gunshots erupted. Rushing forward, Orlando met them both and Phoebe threw her arms around him and pushed him against the wall. The gunfire continued. Men screamed and screamed and then…

  Silence.

  Lights filled the hallway.

  Phoebe pressed her lips against Orlando's ear. "It's okay, I think…"

  "Hi there," said the little girl, stepping back into the corridor and waving into the light. "My dad said you've been looking for me."

  The lights dimmed, moved away, and Orlando saw a half-dozen men, their khakis torn and filthy, some limping and nursing wounds, but alive. Temple lowered his light.

  "That I have, little one, that I have." He looked at Phoebe and Orlando, then at the mess in the center of the tunnel. "Good work, you two. Now come on, let's get this one's father, and then get out of here."

  Aria reached back and took Phoebe's hand and Orlando's arm and walked between them. She looked up at them both, smiling. "We're going to the snow mountain where the wizards live."

  Phoebe and Orlando glanced at each other, then shrugged.

  Temple shook his head in wonder. "Damn, she's good. Glad she's going to be on our team."

  9.

  Egypt

  Nina strapped the MP5 submachine gun over her shoulder as she climbed the ancient steps out of the Sphinx's lower chamber. She headed back outside, into the winds and the sound of the helicopter engine. She ascended and moved into the semicircle of soldiers awaiting Senator Calderon and his guests.

  As the seconds dragged on and the door still didn't open, she was surprised to feel so calm. Here it was, finally she was going to meet her boys. Her children. After all those years apart. All that time, did they even know she was alive and sedated? Did they visit? Did they care, or did Calderon shape their minds to one single purpose, stoking their egos and building them up as… what were they to him? Messiahs, or merely tools to his own ascension?

  She clenched her teeth and fought a renewed pain from the shoulder wound she'd received back on the Mongolian steppes. She'd have to get the dressings changed and have that looked at soon, but so far she'd been running on adrenaline, purpose fueling her every step of the way. She'd come too far, and now she had a new purpose. A responsibility.

  Suddenly she was very jealous, bitter at Calderon for depriving her of the chance to mold these children, to shape them into the future leaders the way she would have wanted. And what about Caleb? She struggled with that the most. Two hours ago she would have gladly stuck a knife in his heart and twisted it slowly. He had left her, presumed she was dead and left her without so much as an RV attempt to check on her. But if he had seen her, lying there helpless in a coma, would he have even come to her aid?

  Maybe, she thought, if he had seen she was pregnant.

  But none of that mattered now.

  Now, the door was opening. Two small forms leapt out in unison. They both set flashy skateboards on the paveway and pushed off together, gliding toward her.

  They executed a sharp inward turns, skidded to a stop several feet away, then kicked up their boards into their hands.

  The one on the left stretched out his arms. "Hello, mother."

  The other one, his head lowered in slight show of respect, said: "It's good to see you. And for real this time."

  "Catch up later, boys." Mason Calderon walked behind them, twirling his cane. "Let's get down there and get what we came for." He beamed at Nina. "Good to finally meet in person, Ms. Osseni. May I please have it?"

  She nodded, drawn to something about him. The power in his shoulders and in his walk, the dazzling hint in his eyes revealing his utter belief in himself. Without hesitation she lowered the satchel, zipped it open and held it out for him. For some reason she thought she should bow her head, as if offering a grand gift to her king.

  He reached inside and reverently took hold of the Emerald Tablet. Pulled it out with trembling hands. It was glowing, brighter now, dazzling in his eyes, swallowing up their blackness, substituting a throbbing green aura. He wobbled and Nina thought he might collapse under the thing's power. But then it seemed to rejuvenate him. His mouth opened, almost in an ecstatic silent cry. "At last…"

  And then he was walking past her without another look, and the boys were in his place.

  Nina's eyes darted back and forth. One child to the other. Both so similar and yet she also saw them with other senses. She saw their differences, little nuances. And she knew, from her glimpses into their pasts, which was which. Jacob on the right: a streak of something… different in him. So different than the cold-heartedness they both chose to portray. A little smoother, Jacob was, his edges not as sharp as Isaac's. His thoughts more deliberate, his words more carefully chosen. He… he was the reader, when occasion allowed. He did it in secret, when Isaac was asleep. Jacob… he's more like Caleb, I can see it…

  Isaac… Nina smiled at him, and the boy grinned back, taking the attention as a selfish compliment proving he had been singled out over his brother. Competitive from the start. Isaac was definitely hers. She continued smiling, thinking about the contrast that no one else could see.

  "Move," Calderon said, nodding to her and to the troops. "I'm back in charge. Let's get what we cam
e here for and get out. I don't like all the attention that's coming our way." Beyond the perimeter, news vans struggled to get close enough to see, but were kept back by more Egyptian troops. Bright lights stabbed out, away from the Sphinx so no one could get a clear look at what they'd found.

  The boys hurried past Nina, and each grabbed a hand as they passed, turning her around and bringing her with them. She clasped their hands, and she was surprised at how normal this felt. How good. Like it was just another day, and they'd been together all this time.

  On her way down, she glanced back and saw two guards leading a red-haired man out of the helicopter, moving him along towards them.

  Ah, Xavier. Coming to join the party. I wonder...

  But that was when she felt the surge, jolting up her arms from where she held her children. As if they were each live wires, and she was caught in the middle, unable to let go as the currents ripped through her psyche.

  #

  It was as if there was a split screen in her mind. On the right, from Isaac came a flood of unrelenting visions, bombarding her with their brazen ferocity:

  A younger boy with a mop of curly brown hair stands over a writhing frog, its legs and lower torso flattened. A streak of gore leading to the skateboard a few feet away. The boy has a screwdriver in hand, angling its sharp tip toward the frog's blinking eyes…

  Another shift and he's a bit older, sitting before a large screen, sipping lemonade while watching scenes of desert warfare: anonymous planes bombarding villages, cluster bombs decimating ground forces, sniper rounds exploding soldiers one after another… Isaac giggling, eating popcorn.

  On the seat beside him, Jacob is watching, no less rapt, but seems to wince at every scene of escalating violence. In the shadows near the back, a man stands leaning on a golden-tipped cane.

  All this Nina saw in only a few seconds, but what she found herself focusing on was the left-most panel, the one showing only a single image…

  Jacob, perhaps only four, lingering by the bedside of a patient, a woman strapped to a table in a familiar room. He looks back at a departing figure on a skateboard and when he's sure he's alone, he reaches out. And takes the patient's hand in his.

  The boys let go simultaneously, in their enthusiasm for seeing the door at last. The door under the Sphinx, the one that only they could open. If, Nina thought, staggering a little after the release, they could duplicate what Alexander had been able to do.

  She was dizzy, lightheaded. Her arms felt like jelly rolls.

  "And how are the little rugrats?" came the voice at her back. She turned slowly to see Montross standing on the last step. His hair was a crimson mess, tangles and strands across his face. His shirt covered with sandstone dust, sweat and dirt, yet he looked radiant. A beaming smile, twinkle in his eye as if despite everything, despite being bound and in the enemy's camp, he was right where he wanted to be.

  I wouldn't doubt it, she thought. Nor would she let her guard down. She had new allegiances now, and owed this man nothing more. In fact…

  "You knew," she hissed. "You must have."

  Montross let his smile falter. "I didn't. I never asked those kinds of questions, and didn't know I needed you until several years after they had taken your boys. I was too busy hiding from Waxman. Hiding, exploring… Researching all this. The Tablet, what it can do." He cocked his head, looked around her to where Calderon had the boys probing the wall. Isaac seemed morbidly distracted by the blood smears on the floor. The remains of Robert Gregory and Marcos.

  "I don't know if I believe you," Nina said, keeping her eyes on Montross. She thought about the long journey they both shared. The plans devised late into the evenings. The shared visions, often in bed together, where she returned his thrusts by penetrating his mind, reveling in his visions—those that she could access. She had found it surprisingly difficult to get past some of his defenses, to see the things that truly drove him. Hints of attachment beyond what he had felt for his mother and his foster father, who were taken from him at such a young age. Nina knew there was another woman, someone he was protecting. Someone he might even…love? And that knowledge had both intrigued and infuriated her. That she couldn't see who it was. That he still had his secrets.

  Montross shrugged. "It doesn't matter at this point. I only hope they know what they're doing."

  "And do you?"

  "Me?" He glanced down at himself. "What am I doing? Nothing, I'm just a captive, my fate at the whim of your new master." He blinked and glanced over at Calderon. "He is your master now, isn't he?"

  She fumed. He knew that would get to her, still knew how to push her buttons. "I have no master. I choose the best team for my talents."

  "Not always successful at that, right? Could've done better than Waxman."

  "Or you?"

  "I thought we made a pretty decent team."

  Nina smirked. "Just be quiet and let my boys work."

  "Got it!" Calderon whooped a second before the grinding sound thundered inside the chamber. The wall was rising.

  Jacob tottered, appearing dizzy. But Isaac ducked and rolled under the door, taking advantage of his brother's condition to get inside first. Nina headed toward Jacob, going to check on him. She reached out, but Calderon grabbed her wrist forcefully and brought her with him into the room, illuminated by the bright spotlights set up down here from when Robert Gregory made his attempt at access.

  Nina looked back. Jacob was still doubled over from the effort, and Nina realized he was the one that had solved the puzzle and opened the door. And Isaac had just taken the credit. He felt her attention, glanced up and met her eyes and for a moment there was a hint of need. But then he blinked away all the emotion and the coldness set back in as he stood up. He squared his shoulders and quickly moved inside.

  "The keys?" Calderon asked hopefully.

  Isaac was checking the box, looking at it from all sides. Poking the center piece that held the three triangular slots. He shook his head. "Our dear brother has taken them."

  "Thought as much," Calderon said. He let go of Nina's wrist, but gave her a slight push toward Montross. "Xavier, my friend. It's time to be useful. I'd ask you to willingly tell us what you know, but I'd never trust you."

  Montross clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, then laughed. "Are you saying we just can't be friends?"

  "Not today. Nina?" Calderon pointed with his cane, giving her a target. "Do your thing. Find out what Montross knows about the keys, and where the boy is hiding. We're going in after them, and I don't want any surprises."

  Her head down, Nina approached, refusing to make eye contact. When she finally did, reaching for Xavier's face, planning to start with a gentle caress that would shuffle his memories and visions, causing what she needed to drop into her thoughts, he said in a low voice:

  "Your master bids, and you obey…"

  #

  Her intensity shocked even herself. Maybe it was knowing that she had spectators and she didn't want to disappoint, didn't want to show weakness, especially in front of her boys. Or maybe Montross had just gotten under her skin, and she was striking back tenfold.

  Either way, she went at his mind, hard. Dug in deep, forcing herself upon his psyche, taking every inch he reluctantly surrendered, every fleeting glimpse he failed to protect, snatching at the images like a multi-armed Hindu goddess. A hundred eyes, all peering into separate nooks, places Xavier could never blockade, not all at once under such an onslaught.

  She saw things, so many, all at once. Too much to process now. She saw a woman on the edge of some monument in the Grand Canyon, with Xavier holding her hand as they watched the sunset paint glorious hues upon the striated cliffs. She saw a warehouse full of shelves a hundred feet high, with locked compartments guarding things of such antiquity… and Montross sneaking out, darting from the shadows with something spherical and shiny in his grasp, a thief in the dark.

  And then she saw them: Caleb and Alexander, rushing through a shadowy maze of passagew
ays. Hurrying, following someone in a gray cloak. Her vision fast-forwarded, piggy-backing onto Xavier's spark of prescience.

  And now they're outside, climbing out of a well onto the desert sands. In the distance, a motorboat revving up. Dark figures on board, holding guns and watching the skies, looking southeast, toward the distant peaks of the three pyramids. Fast forward again:

  A giant half-dome of glass, sparkling in the sun, surrounded by high-rises and minarets.

  Nina let go, backed away, gasping for breath. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she turned away from Montross, who wouldn't look at her. "Senator," she whispered. "They're not down there anymore."

  "Where-?"

  She blinked, standing up straight and focusing on Montross. He shook his head, but she continued anyway.

  "They're heading to Alexandria. To the library."

  Calderon nodded. "Ah, our friends the Keepers." He started twirling his cane in his fingers, slowly, focusing on the dragon.

  "Stepfather?" Isaac asked quietly. "Are we going there?"

  "Oh we are, my boy." And he smiled broadly. "I'm through playing cat and mouse with them. There's no longer any point to the chase. Not when we have a way to end this once and for all."

  Isaac was rubbing his hands together, and even Jacob seemed excited.

  "It's time," Calderon said, "for the new library to meet the fate of the old."

  10.

  Over Pakistan

  "One more unscheduled stop, I swear." Colonel Temple emerged from the pilot's cabin and faced his passengers. Phoebe sat beside Aria, who was sound asleep but turning fretfully, her eyelids fluttering. Orlando sat on the other side, as if they were the girl's protective parents, and for a few minutes before takeoff, he actually let himself imagine such a fantasy—that he and Phoebe were living out normal lives. Maybe returning from Disneyworld with a tuckered out daughter.

  But then the plane banked away from the sandstone cliffs and Aria looked back on her father, sedated and asleep, hooked to an IV and sprawled out on the back three seats. Orlando met Phoebe's eyes, which for a moment were clouded with fear and adrift in loss, before she managed to find strength in him and draw it to herself.