The Cydonia Objective (Morpheus Initiative 03)

by David Sakmyster

  They kept walking, with Aria and Phoebe glancing at each door, and Orlando itching to get inside and dig in. "This is just the kind of place I told Caleb we needed. More psychics, more objectives. Cool stuff to figure out! Damn, Temple, unless you're jerking our chains, I love this place! Where do I sign up?"

  Temple held up a hand before one more door on their left. "One thing more to show you before we enter the main conference center. In here, you'll meet-"

  "-The Dove," whispered Aria with an odd smile on her face. They opened the door.

  He was, to put it mildly, a little different than Orlando or Phoebe expected. He sat in an enormous leather reclining chair. Enormous because it had to be in order to fit his frame. Easily four hundred pounds, the Dove was in his late fifties. Balding, multiple chins, arms and legs the size of small redwood trunks. He went shoeless, and his big feet were up, presenting a grotesque view. Cheetos crumbs and pizza crusts littered the front of his extra sized Worlds of Warcraft t-shirt—the same kind Orlando had been sporting, until the incident with the eels.

  Phoebe gave his arm a squeeze as if to say, look—there's you in a few years.

  "Hey there," the Dove said, waving a big hand in their direction. "Just taking a break, boss. These the newbies?"

  "New to you, maybe," Phoebe quipped. "I've been at this since before I could talk."

  "I stand corrected." He slapped away the crusts from his shirt. "I'd get up and meet you, but I don't get up much. Not when these good people can bring me anything I want. If I didn't have to piss and… well, I'd never get up. Too busy anyway." He spun his chair around slowly, groaning with the effort. And Orlando took a step in, wrinkling his nose at the smell, noting the air fresheners working in the corners, overtime apparently.

  Why is he called the Dove? he wanted to ask, and would as soon as they were alone.

  The room was small, with maroon-painted walls supporting large bookshelves crammed full like the shelves of a used book store. On the walls were movie posters—specifically ones of a certain genre. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Close Encounters. The Day the Earth Stood Still. War of the Worlds.

  Orlando nodded. "So in here, you're studying film classics?"

  The Dove made an un-dovelike sound. "Ha, good one. Nope, in here I do the important stuff, looking in on our 'friends'. As much as I can, sneaking around their defenses, mostly seeing the footprints rather than the feet—or tentacles—that made them." He grinned and chuckled, wiping his greasy hands on his dirty pants. "Hey Temple, you show 'em the NASA chick's highlight reel yet?"

  Temple shook his head. "Heading there next."

  "Highlight reel?" Phoebe asked.

  "NASA chick?" Orlando followed up with.

  The Dove grinned. "Oh, it'll be a hoot, believe me. I'd join you, but…"

  "Right," Orlando said. "You'd prefer not to get up."

  Making a gun out of his fingers, the Dove pointed and grinned. "You got it, Orlando Natch. And by the way, good work out there in Bamian. I took a little time off the hunt to check you guys out."

  "And thank you," Temple said, "for your timely intelligence when we needed it."

  The Dove gave a half-hearted bow from his seat. "Now, if that's all, gentlemen and ladies, I have some more snooping to do. And you have a lot of catching up to do if you're going to be anything but dead weight, which I have my doubts about."

  "We'll try not to disappoint", Phoebe said, leaving quickly, eager to breathe the fresh air out in the hall.

  "Toodles!" called the Dove as the door closed behind them.

  "There," Temple said. "That went better than expected. He can be… a little less than charming sometimes."

  "Please," said Orlando, "tell me he wasn't a skinny geek like me when you found him."

  "He's actually on a diet," Temple said, "and doing quite well at it. We saved him from an extended stint at a rehab center where his chances were not very good. Gave him purpose and now he's actually trying." He made a face. "Just not entirely motivated."

  He moved forward to the end of the hall, toward a gold-plated two-door exit. Smiling to his three guests, Temple opened the doors and led them into a room that gave Orlando the immediate impression of stepping into Mission Control at NASA. Two rows of tables with comfortable leather seats before a central conference table and a main wall covered with projection screens of various sizes, including one immense screen currently split into eight smaller rectangles. Different scenes were presented on each one, and Orlando recognized a view of some jungle temples in Belize, while another had a distant view of the Taj Mahal, another the Great Wall of China, one had the Pyramids, and another, Stonehenge, and another–

  "The Moon. And that," Orlando pointed to a center screen where a reddish, rocky desert image stood eerily silent. "First I thought it was the Southwest, a random desert somewhere. But I've seen that before, from the rover's camera. It's…"

  "Mars," said a new voice. A woman stood up from behind a large-screen computer monitor in the second row. She was thin and shapely, with long auburn hair and blue eyes that were haggard and weak, and yet sparking with a twinge of excitement that only came from discovery after long hours of searching. She wore jeans and a loose white t-shirt with the words: ROCK CLIMBERS DO IT HAND OVER HAND.

  Nodding to Temple, she came around the table and extended her hand in greeting to the newcomers. "My name's Diana Montgomery. And I'm…" she glanced at Temple questioningly. "Well, I've only been brought on two months ago, but I guess you can say I'm a consultant."

  Temple stepped inside, shutting the door behind them. "Sure, we'll keep that title. Diana was a consultant for NASA most recently, until certain illicit behavior was discovered."

  Diana raised her hands. "Caught with my hands in the cookie jar, downloading some evidence they preferred remain classified."

  "Before that," Temple continued, "she served as assistant to the Director of the Smithsonian."

  Diana smiled at Orlando. "Before being kindly asked to resign after I once again…"

  "Got your hand caught in the cookie jar?" Phoebe supplied, pulling Orlando back a little and sending a signal at the same time.

  "More like their restricted archives."

  "But not before she first found some rather interesting things," Temple said.

  "Artifacts. Certain relics that didn't fit with the modern historical consensus. Things that made me question everything about our evolution, our discoveries and technology." She turned and walked back to the main wall, where she eyed the scenes of Mars. "And that sent me searching for answers in the one logical place where it made the most sense. The one place," she said, "that terrified the hell out of me."

  "Up there?" Aria asked.

  Diana nodded. "I used my connections and a little blackmail, I'm not afraid to admit, to get a job as a consultant to NASA. Then worked my way into a position to gain access to material off limits to most everyone except a few higher-ups. I took what I could, and confirmed in my own mind everything, all my worst fears."

  "And then," said Temple, trying to hurry her along. "She got caught. Or would have, if the Dove hadn't glimpsed what she was doing. We acted quickly, scooping her up just before a team was prepared to take her out… permanently."

  Diana looked down. "And I've pretty much been here in exile ever since." Her expression brightened. "But it's not so bad. Every once in a while I get a break and can go outside and do what I really love."

  "Rock climbing?" suggested Phoebe.

  Diana nodded. "Ever since I was a teenager. Me and my dad." Her face fell. "Until he died investigating something strange at a cave in the Grand Canyon."

  Orlando gasped. "Kinkaid's cave?"

  Diana smiled. "Figured you might have heard about it."

  "I remember that," Phoebe said. "The news conference. That was you?"

  She nodded. "I broke the story. Or tried to. Later, after my resignation, the Smithsonian retracted it all and said there was a huge mistake, that items had been misclassified
in the archives. Forgeries, all of them. They said that I had acted rashly without their consent, blah blah blah."

  "But you knew the truth," Orlando said wistfully. "Egyptian artifacts in a cave, thousands of years old. In the damn Grand Canyon. That must have been an adventure, finding those!"

  "Well, I had help."

  Temple grinned, looking from Phoebe back to Orlando.

  "Help?" Phoebe asked.

  "One of you," Diana replied. "A remote viewer. He came to me in the desert, saved my life, and then helped me find the hidden chamber. He showed me everything, and he… we…" Her eyes turned glassy and wistful. "Well, I haven't seen him since, but he had these drawings, and..."

  "What was his name?" Phoebe asked, her mouth dry. Fearing she knew the answer already.

  "Xavier," Diana said quietly, her voice cracking with emotion. "Xavier Montross."

  7.

  When the first rocks started falling, Alexander had just finished rereading his mother's file for the second time. His head swam with scanned images, rough drawings made by the other keepers. Ancient maps that looked like the inside of anthills, crude sketches and strange symbols, a timeline with notations in his mother's hand. He was still putting all the pieces together, trying to decide whether all this was some fanciful early myth or if it could it possibly actual history, when rubble crashed through behind him.

  Chunks of stone, fused metal and pieces of glass tumbled free and slammed into a bank of shelves. Alexander jumped up, snatched the laptop and retreated to the far edge of the chamber, shrinking into a corner where a section of the wall had collapsed. He thought momentarily about throwing the laptop on the ground, picking up a sharp hunk of concrete, and bashing it in, rather than let them get its secrets too. But that file… something his mother had been working on, something Dad had never seen… And what could hold the answer to everything. He couldn't let it go.

  He had to save something from down here.

  A shaft of light stabbed inside as if a giant had just poked its finger through the top of a cave and let in the sun. In the uncomfortable brilliance, Alexander could see two ropes descending, followed quickly by dark-clad men.

  Surprisingly, he discovered he was experiencing relief as much as fright. At least I won't suffocate to death, alone in the dark.

  Two flashlight beams struck out in opposite directions, spraying the walls and the rubble. One hesitated on the face of the dead Rashi, then joined the other, converging, moving as one to the farthest corner. Both of them froze, highlighting their prey.

  "We have him," said a voice.

  #

  The two lights blazed in his eyes, and Alexander couldn't make out anything but vague outlines of the men standing over him. He heard a familiar voice, but it came from a speaker, crackling.

  "Does he have the keys?"

  "Boy," said the man behind the closer light. "Where are they?"

  Raising his hands before his eyes, Alexander said, "What if I told you they were under that pile of wreckage over there, and good luck finding them?"

  A moment of quiet, and then the man chuckled. "I'd say you were bluffing. Your brothers seem to think you've kept them around your neck."

  The other one coughed. "Care to show us?"

  "All right, all right, I've got them here." Alexander reached under his dusty shirt and withdrew the cord. The three pyramid-shaped keys reflected in the light, sparkling green.

  "We'll take those."

  "Let him keep it on. Calderon said we're taking him with us."

  "Fine. Okay kid, rescue time. Get up."

  Alexander rose, still half-blinded. He bent down, reaching for the laptop, but suddenly one of the men snatched it up first.

  "I'll take this too. Since you were keen on protecting it."

  "Move it, kid."

  Alexander let himself be led back to the ropes. Strong arms scooped him up under his armpits, something was clasped into the man's belt, and then—they were rising. About halfway out of the crater, Alexander's eyes adjusted—and he wished they hadn't. What he saw bore no resemblance to the place he had spent most of his young life. The world's largest library, a wonder of the modern age, gone in an instant.

  His eyes welled up and tears cut through the layers of dust on his cheeks and fell back into the pit, to the vault still filled with the broken dreams of the ancients.

  Something at eye-level caught his attention, and as the crane swung them over the drilling equipment and to a makeshift platform, he saw two boys standing on the edge, impatiently waiting to greet their brother.

  #

  "He doesn't look like he's all that special," one boy said, circling Alexander. "Does he, Jacob?"

  Hugging his shoulders, he tried not to stare at the boys. Jacob stood right in front of him, looking at him like he was a sideshow exhibit, and Isaac moved around, inspecting him from all angles. But Alexander tried to stay strong. "Didn't say I was."

  His two rescuers had moved to a position back near the black Hummer waiting at the other side of the platform. Alexander squinted and tried to see in there, but was too distracted.

  "Ah but you're the promised one," Isaac said.

  "The one who opened the door first," Jacob added.

  "Found the great old box you did," Isaac sneered. "Just didn't open it. Now we have you. Got the box, the secret books, and the keys."

  "Keys to the universe," Jacob said.

  Alexander's hand went to his necklace. He held the three stones, immediately feeling a twinge of something vibrating into his fingers and up his arm. "It won't help you. Not after what I just learned."

  "And what," said a new voice, "did you learn down there?" Mason Calderon had come around from the side, behind a line of rescue vehicles, their lights flashing. Further in that direction, barricades held back a surging crowd growing larger by the minute, a sea of desperate faces.

  Calderon came strolling forward, leaning only slightly on his cane. His suit coat waved in the wind around his back as he moved. His face, Alexander thought, was smoother, glossy and wax-like, as if he'd just been rejuvenated. His eyes sparkled as he came right up to Alexander, then stopped and looked at all three of the boys.

  "A family reunion! Isn't this just grand. Boys? Did you introduce yourself to your long-lost brother?"

  "He knows," Isaac said bluntly.

  "Obviously," Jacob added.

  Alexander resisted his curiosity at studying these kids and instead turned his glare to Calderon. "My uncle Xavier thinks you're going to destroy the world. So if these keys are going to help you, then forget it. I won't help."

  "Then what?" Calderon spread out his arms, with the cane's dragon head pointing up to the clouds. "Are you going to jump back into the hole? We'll just fish out your body and get those keys your family worked so hard to obtain. And as for destroying the world…" He shook his head. "Don't be silly. I intend to save it."

  "But Xavier saw…"

  "I believe he saw what would happen if I didn't succeed. If he didn't join me and help me unlock the secrets of the Emerald Tablet. To annihilate the true, secret enemy of mankind."

  "He's joined you?" Alexander felt the energy leaving his voice. The keys now felt like heavy iron chunks. Calderon stepped to the side and Alexander could see a man with red hair standing by the back of the Hummer, opening the trunk. The two soldiers were with him.

  "Come on," Calderon said as he turned his back to the boys. "Let's get this damn box open and see what we've won."

  "But-"

  "Move it," Isaac said as he jabbed his elbow into Alexander's side. "And give me those!" He reached out like he was going to strangle Alexander, then snatched at the pendants, caught a hold of the cord and yanked it free.

  "Hey!"

  Isaac skipped ahead, twirling around, holding the keys high. After a moment's hesitation, Jacob followed, glancing back once to Alexander. "Come on," he said in a low voice, and waved his hand.

  Sorry, Dad. Hanging his head, Alexander followed, and t
he only thing keeping him going was the belief that maybe Xavier knew what he was doing. He was always a step ahead of everyone. Maybe this time, he had Calderon right where he wanted him.

  But when Alexander made it to the Hummer and saw Xavier shoved aside by the guards, his head down in resignation, all hope fled.

  "The Keys," said Calderon, and took a step back. "You boys do the honors."

  Isaac quickly stepped up. He slid the stones off the cord and held them all in his hand, gazing at them longingly. Alexander wondered if he even appreciated who had held those objects. Cyrus the Great, Genghis Khan, Alexander… The greatest leaders and conquerors in history; and now, this kid was handling them, roughly inserting one into the slot.

  "What about me?" Jacob asked, moving in.

  "Snooze you lose," Isaac replied, fitting in the second.

  "Hope it zaps you," Alexander said.

  Isaac glanced back before inserting the third. "Right… Hmmm, why don't you do the last one?" He held out his hand.

  Alexander glanced over at Xavier, who had raised his head and was watching Alexander. He gave a nod, indicating he'd be safe, as Alexander thought. There was no danger at this point to anything other than the contents of the box. But his visions had shown that the three keys alone would do it.

  The hand bobbled. "Come on, brother. Honor's all yours."

  "Somebody just do it," Calderon snapped.

  Alexander sighed. "Let Jacob do it. I'm tired."