The Cydonia Objective (Morpheus Initiative 03)

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The Cydonia Objective (Morpheus Initiative 03) Page 22

by David Sakmyster


  The others bow their heads and drop to one knee.

  And they wait.

  And wait.

  Until the man's arms get tired and he can barely hold up the artifact any longer.

  "What are they waiting for?" he whispers to his companion.

  The other man, his eyes narrowed under ice-flecked eyebrows, shakes his head. "Maybe we're not yet worthy."

  The spear lowers. "We did not yet come as victors."

  "The war goes badly."

  "We must win first. Conquer."

  "Purify."

  Both men stand, and as the spear again is wrapped in its cloth, they turn their eyes from the door, from the ram-headed guardians.

  "We will return when we've succeeded."

  Caleb stirred. Something was happening. Not there in the vision, but-

  "F-18s!" the pilot's voice shouted over the intercom. "Claiming we're violating FAA directives. Forcing us to land."

  Caleb looked outside. They were over water.

  "Where are we?"

  "You slept long enough," Nina snapped. "We circled Seattle, and are flying up the coast. Thought it best to avoid complications, but apparently that didn't work."

  "Get Temple," Caleb yelled. "Ask him to–"

  "Already tried. He's working it, but his orders are being countermanded."

  Calderon.

  "He knows," Nina said, gripping the back of the chair in front of her. She shot Caleb a worried look. "The boys… I'm a liability right now. They can latch onto me easily, find me anywhere."

  "We have to land," the pilot called back. "Or they're promising to shoot us out of the sky."

  "He'll do it," Nina said.

  "But the Spear-?"

  "He must know you have it. Even if the explosion doesn't destroy it, it's likely that no one will find it in this wilderness. At least not until Calderon's done what he plans to do."

  Caleb nodded. "So what do we do?"

  "I think I can get you over the border," the pilot called back, veering sharply then, skimming low over the rugged ice-capped hills. "Then the Canadians will move to intercept. I doubt they'll take kindly to our boys zipping over there, terrorist threat or not."

  "Then what?" Nina asked.

  The speakers crackled. "Then I'll be forced to turn back and I'll be escorted to the nearest base. But maybe there's another way." Caleb saw that the pilot was leaning to his left, staring down, then checking something on the radar.

  "What is it?" Nina asked, then moved into the cockpit to take a look. Movement on his right: another plane dropped into view, close enough that Caleb could see the helmeted pilot inside, turning toward him. He could see the missiles locked under the wing.

  Nina came back with a mischievous grin on her face. "We have to act fast."

  Caleb stared at her as he stood up and tried to balance as the plane tipped, banked then dipped away from their uninvited guest.

  "What?" He had a sinking feeling in his gut, and not just from the sudden drop in altitude.

  Nina went to a compartment, reaching inside. "The pilot assures us he can get us right above it."

  "Above what?" Caleb shook his head before he even found what she was looking for. "No…"

  Nina got up unsteadily and slipped something around her shoulders.

  Caleb said, "No, please tell me we're not…"

  "Yes," Nina said, heading toward the cabin after strapping in the parachute. "We're going to jump out of a perfectly good airplane."

  #

  They dove out together, with Caleb hugging onto Nina for dear life. He was facing her, arms and legs wrapped tightly around her slender body, fingers interlocked under her parachute. He hoped he wasn't screaming during the descent, but even hours later, he couldn't recall. It was all a terrifying blur, with nothing but the terrifying certainty that the chute wouldn't going to open and that he would die with his former lover, slamming into the ocean without even seeing it rise up to meet him.

  He had a view of their jet, banking around and heading back—just as something streaked out of the blue, and the cockpit erupted with a fire that split the plane down the middle, scattering its skeleton in all directions. Something soared over the falling debris, and then Nina angled her body, spread her arms and seemed to fly sideways, floating on air currents, spinning…

  Caleb nearly passed out when he glimpsed a huge piece of the smoking wing drop past where they had just been. He looked up into Nina's eyes, where he saw a touch of amusement.

  "You're enjoying this!" he yelled, but if she heard, she didn't respond. Her eyes were focused on something else. And when Caleb turned his head, he couldn't see anything except the stretch of blue, capped with streaks of white, and then just miles and miles of shoreline.

  "We're looking good!" Nina shouted, and pointed straight down to something Caleb at first couldn't make out. Just the act of turning his head and trying to get his bearings during free fall made his stomach lurch, and he wondered how revolted she would be if he was sick all over her right now.

  Then he saw it: a rectangular shape below them, white against the Pacific blue. It was getting bigger and bigger. In moments, he could make out other shapes and colors on the rectangle: sections of green, white and smaller bluish rectangles.

  "You're kidding me!"

  Nina shifted her weight and took them on a trajectory ahead of the object, which was now expanding in his vision. He could see orange along the sides, and tiny forms strolling on the deck.

  "Yes honey," said Nina as she ripped the cord. "We're taking a cruise."

  #

  It wasn't a bad landing, all things considered. After the chute opened Caleb felt as if he'd tear through the straps and go plummeting away from Nina on his own, but he held on, and he saw she was steering—with two straps and handles. Bearing them one direction, then the other, riding the winds, circling around and coming down fast toward the cruise ship. He kept silent, heart in his throat until it looked as if they were way off target and would miss the stern or at best, land on the smokestack, but then an updraft caught them, Nina tugged hard on the left strap and banked them around. They circled over the chimney, then shot over the heads of tourists wearing sweaters and scarves, a few brave souls in the hot pool shielding their eyes to watch what they believed was a cruise-publicity stunt.

  And then they set down, right in the middle of the putting green. They scrambled, and Caleb teetered off balance, taking Nina with him, tumbling and getting tangled up in the ropes and the chute—until the fake rock wall stopped their progress with a jarring halt.

  "Where… did you learn that?" Caleb asked as they extricated themselves from the mess of fabric and ropes and tethers.

  "Montross," she replied. "He insisted I train with him. Hang gliding, parachuting, steering. Said you never knew when you might need to leap out of a plane and land on something."

  "Sounds like he might have seen this."

  "Exactly, which is why I went along with it. Now, come on. I'm sure security's on its way."

  They stood up to the cheers of a large crowd below, surrounding the pool. People were snapping pictures, filming with camcorders and phones. Nina raised her hand and did a mock bow. "Play along," she whispered to Caleb. Then, kicking off the last of the ropes and smoothing back her hair, she leapt over the side, tugging Caleb along behind her.

  He jumped too, and just as he caught a glimpse of men in blue running up the far stairs, he landed and dove into the crowd with Nina, high-fiving a few people, then pushing through and making for a side door. They were through, and into a cafeteria teeming with people in line and at their tables, gorging on lunch. Nina took Caleb's hand and he felt a sudden surge of power, a tugging of a vision, but urgency squashed any connection. Under his shirt, strapped to his back, the shard of strange metal –the spear—seemed to vibrate and thrum. It felt warm, almost hot. Itchy, and for a desperate moment he feared he'd have to strip off his shirt and rip it free, giving away their location; but as soon as she pulled h
er hand away, it subsided and again felt cool.

  He glanced back, but saw that the security men were whipping their heads around, trying to see anyone out of place. The rest of the crowd had moved on, back to their sightseeing and roaming the decks, lining up for the driving range or the rock climbing station, the previous excitement forgotten.

  A dish was thrust in his hand, and then he and Nina were on the far side of the buffet line, nodding to an older couple and heaping fruit onto their plates beside their cold cuts.

  "We're safe," she whispered.

  "For now," Caleb said. "But we could just let them take us to the captain, then call Colonel Temple."

  "Not yet," Nina said. "Better to blend in. If my guess is correct, this ship just set sail from Vancouver on the first leg of the popular Alaskan Inside Passage tour. Next stop, tomorrow morning, will be Juneau where we can get out on the shore excursion. Rent a jeep and head overland to Gacona."

  "Tomorrow," Caleb said, looking at the line of food as his stomach grumbled. Mimosas, coffee, heaps of scrambled eggs and sausage and fresh-baked rolls. "What do we do until then?"

  Nina piled food onto her plate. "Why darling, we enjoy the cruise."

  2.

  Mount Shasta

  After Temple had finished up the presentation, he had Diana take Aria aside to debrief her. Then he turned to his other guests. Phoebe and Orlando had moved in closer to the wall-length screens, studying the pictures of Mars.

  "Okay then," Phoebe said after tearing her eyes away and blinking as if to rid her irises of the grainy Martian sands. "I guess we know our objective."

  Orlando grinned at the screen. "Big Red. The God of War, Ares to the Greeks, Mars for the Romans, and…"

  "Knock it off," Phoebe quipped. "You're not my brother."

  "No," Temple said, "but you'll do just fine. Orlando, I'd like you to go and assist the Dove in his search. Both of you together should be able to crack this thing, get around those shields and see what's really down there."

  "You mean Google Mars isn't accurate?"

  Temple rolled his eyes. "Please." He turned to Phoebe. "I won't even get into the layers of disinformation and outright data manipulation, but in all honesty, despite a few badly eroded surface monuments, what's really of interest is, I believe, under the surface." He turned to Phoebe. "I'd ask you to go too, but I'd spare you what could be rather… awkward company."

  Phoebe nodded. "Thanks. I gather he doesn't see many girls on a day to day basis."

  "Not in the flesh, no."

  Orlando clapped his hands. "All right, I'm off to see the Dove. Or as I would have called him–"

  "Please don't say it," Phoebe begged, shaking her head.

  "-Big Bird."

  Orlando chuckled to himself and headed out, while Phoebe rolled her eyes at Temple. "See what I have to live with?"

  Temple managed a smile. "Now, for you. I'd like you to-"

  His phone chirped. "Hang on a sec."

  But as he reached for it, Phoebe swooned and had to grab the nearest table edge. She looked up sharply just as his eyes met hers and he spoke into the phone. "Talk to me."

  He nodded, then again. Then said: "When was this? Okay, get me a secure channel to Eielson Air Force base. Commander Maxwell. Have him call me back in three minutes."

  When Temple disconnected the call, Phoebe searched his eyes. "My brother! I saw him!"

  He studied her carefully. "Where?'

  Phoebe almost choked on the word. "Falling." She swallowed hard. "From a plane."

  Temple nodded, his face grim. "They were shot down just north of Vancouver Island."

  "And…?" Phoebe's heart was racing. "What else did you hear? Because I saw nothing! They were falling towards something below, on the water, something…" She rubbed her head. "I don't know! Then it all just went blue again!"

  "Blue? You're sure?"

  "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

  "No, but that I don't understand."

  "What?"

  "I believe they fell together, or they jumped out of the plane before it was attacked."

  "They? Who do you mean?" Phoebe blinked, then winced as she eyes closed for a second. "Nina! It was her I saw falling before him."

  "Yes, it was her plane. She may have been taking him to HAARP."

  Phoebe frowned. "I… don't think so. That's not the sense I had. Plus, they were shot down, and not by your guys, right?"

  "Right, which I suppose indicates that Nina may have had a change of heart."

  Phoebe looked down. "Still don't trust that bitch." Her eyes lifted. "But you think they survived?"

  "If you can't see them, then it might mean something else is acting in their vicinity. Something that's clouding your sight."

  Phoebe blinked, then glanced over Temple's shoulder, to the side area where Aria sat talking to Diana.

  "Something," Phoebe said, focusing on the NASA scientist, "that might be powerful enough to keep them hidden—and maybe even safe."

  #

  Orlando knocked, softly at first, then a little louder. Shrugged, then pushed his way inside. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then… a squeaking, and the great bulk that was the Dove turned in his massive ergonomic chair.

  "Ah, so it's to be babysitting duty, is it?"

  "Uh," Orlando stammered. "That colonel guy said I'm supposed to help out here."

  The Dove let out a belch. His eyes, serious and dark, focused on Orlando for an uncomfortable moment. Then he brushed crumbs off his bulging gut, grinned and pointed to a plain-looking metal chair in the corner. "Pull up a seat, amigo. Let's see what we can see."

  Orlando nodded, wrinkling his nose at the smell of Cheezits, and stepped over a collection of Hostess Twinkie wrappers. "Okay, so it must be the maid's day off?"

  "Cute." The Dove clicked some buttons on the arm of his chair and the giant screen on the far wall flickered to life. And The Face came into focus, stopping Orlando in his tracks. "Never seen it that big, have you?"

  "Or in that much detail. I thought we didn't have these kind of images. And the last one was all kinds of fuzzy. Looked like crap."

  "Exactly like some weather-eroded three hundred million year old mountain would expect to look, right?"

  Orlando nodded. He reached the chair and started dragging it back as The Dove clicked and moved a joystick, and the image zoomed in on the Face's left eye. "Of course they don't show you the good stuff, the stuff they can't understand. Everything else—everything released out to the world and to Google—all clever manipulations. Like you've probably heard from now, certain people in certain positions have known for years that something was out there long ago. Something that apparently hasn't stuck around."

  "Or else it got blown up long ago."

  The Dove's huge head nodded. Beads of sweat cascaded down his cheeks like he'd just come in out of a rainstorm. "That's the thought, except we all know that just like when you try to wipe out a bees' nest, you never get them all. Some are out gathering stuff or just buzzing around, and they're the ones that then go into hiding, waiting out the eons."

  Orlando sat down and looked at his empty hands, then glanced around the room. "Got a spare Tablet?"

  "Nope."

  "Pad of paper?"

  "Negative."

  "Napkin and crayons?"

  Another shake of the massive head. "Just take a deep breath, focus on the eye there, and go to work."

  Orlando sighed. "So it's going to be that kind of day. Demoted to the Dark Ages." He crossed his arms, lowered his head and tried not to breathe through his nose. One last peek at the rounded dark cavity on the screen, and then he closed his eyes.

  And...

  Nothing.

  Sighing, he kept focusing, thinking about Mars, about all that red stone, about the dust, and the winds. But something kept interfering. At first he expected the blue screen, even felt it converging a few times as his mind's eye attempted to descend into the Face's eye. Then he'd pull back and try
another angle, another route. He tried focusing on recent lunar missions. The Martian Pathfinder, the Rover. The probes...

  All that technology, he zeroed in on each one in turn, but in turn he was shot down by the screen of blue.

  "Not doing so hot, are you?" Came the Dove's voice. Orlando ignored him. Kept focusing, but the Dove's heavy breathing and raspy, almost snore-like breaths were breaking his focus.

  "Trying, but can't get in through the eye. Are you sure-?"

  "Keep at it, amigo." A raspy snort. "I assure you, something wicked-cool is down there. It'll blow your mind."

  A few more minutes, then… Finally, Orlando shook his head. He was about to open his eyes when another particularly obnoxious grunt from the Dove sent Orlando's thoughts on a tangent.

  His mind reached out tangentially to the sound, locked onto the Dove for a second and was sent spiraling off in a new direction, and all Orlando could do was hang on for dear life.

  #

  Flying around Mt. Shasta, the snow-capped peaks, the dizzying precipices and sharp cliffs. Day turns to night, stars burn fiercely in the black night, then spin as the point of view circles the mountain, faster and faster.

  Then: angelic lights sparkle below, snapshotting shadows past the icy ridges. Orbs that start off as golden spheres, then transform through the color chart, turning silver, crimson, turquoise, violet... The spinning stops and the lights flicker, then form a line and blast through the mountain wall, all except the last one, the violet-shimmering globe that sweeps past and collects the vision-

  - and draws it inside, then propels forward. Straight at, and through the ice-blocked mountain wall.

  A brief shimmer of Blue, a protective shield that closes, then scatters in the wake of the violet ball.

  And Orlando's in.

  He's done it: found a back way inside, past the great unbreakable door, to the very heart of the mystery.

  #

  The Dove licked the vanilla icing off his fingers, then turned to regard his guest. Orlando's head lolled to one side, his body slumped almost to the point of falling off the chair. His eyelids flickered rapidly.

 

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