The Cydonia Objective (Morpheus Initiative 03)

by David Sakmyster

  "What's up?" Temple asked, immediately concerned by Diana's expression.

  "She got a vision," Diana said. "And it's a doozy."

  "We have to get out," Aria said quietly. "Now!"

  "What?" Temple's eyes widened.

  "They know. The place in Alaska. They're getting ready. The Dove, he told them about us. Told them to strike now."

  "Sir," said one of the guards, a walkie-talkie to his ear. "Reports from the watch desk. The lights, the orbs—they're leaving the mountain. All of them!"

  Aria was shaking, her eyes white. "We have to go, have to go, have to—"

  But Phoebe, Orlando and Temple were already running for the door.

  6.

  HAARP

  Xavier Montross knew he only had one shot at this. What that one shot was, however, he had no idea.

  He saw that Mason Calderon had entered the machine. A helmet, full of tube-like wires, sensors and goggles, was lowered over his face, and Calderon stretched out his arms to grip the hand rests. The Emerald Tablet flickered and pulsed, the chair vibrated like some expensive mall store novelty for the rich and lazy, and the senator's dragon-head cane, which had been leaning against the chair, slid and fell, then rolled—

  —only to be snatched up by Isaac, who raised it up to his face and locked eyes with the dragon.

  Montross saw all this in a distracted, yet hyper-aware state. He noted the technicians in the room above, scrambling, entering coordinates. Saw Calderon's lips moving, communicating with the techs, barking orders.

  Then Montross saw—or more explicitly—saw outside. Through the walls, into the blinding snowstorm where the hulking shadows of the array devices turned, angled, pointed. Aimed.

  Then, a thousand miles away: a lonely, majestic mountain enjoying its last few moments of peace; multi-colored orbs of light blasting out from invisible pockets in the snowy peaks, hurtling towards elsewhere.

  Within: a young girl, asleep. This one, the Shield, and now it's down, with none to take its place. But there, in the next room, a sandy-haired woman, staring at screens and astronomical information on the red planet. Diana! She stops momentarily, looking up, then around as if…

  Do you sense me? I'm here, I'm here! But you have to go, have to run. Hear me! Little girl, hummingbird! Tell them, warn them!

  She wakes. It's done. And hopefully there's time.

  Surging back now, closer. On the ice-swept dunes, roads barely cleared, a black Jeep Cherokee rumbles at full speed, tearing ahead toward Gacona. Inside: two familiar faces. Nina, Caleb. Hurry—

  —Montross urged as his mind returned. He glanced up.

  There was Calderon, furiously concentrating, aiming, wielding the device as if it was a part of himself, a hideous grin on his face.

  Can they stop it? Montross wondered. Those occupants of the lights? Could they make it here in time, stop the firing sequence? He doubted it. If they could, surely they would have intervened by now.

  Perhaps they weren't powerful enough.

  Or perhaps they are, Montross thought. But they just won't get involved. Instead acting the part of gods wholeheartedly, letting those they watch over truly live or die according to their free will.

  A blur, and Alexander was in motion. But Montross knew his intent, saw it first. The boy, his nephew, was going to attempt to knock Isaac down, take the cane and charge Calderon. Only, it wouldn't work.

  An abrupt, shocking image:

  Alexander on his back, choking on his own blood, hands over his chest. A look of complete confusion and loss on his face.

  Montross wasn't sure if Isaac killed him or if one of the guards intervened to protect the senator, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

  Montross might not be able to save the world, but he could at least save one person, someone he had come to care about more than he ever imagined.

  He moved, stepping in Alexander's path, then he rushed Calderon.

  Three steps away, Montross was sure he'd do it, he'd get in there and twist Calderon's head, snap his neck, rip the Emerald Tablet free and then—

  But that was when he felt a sharp prick, and at first thought he got stung by something. With the next step, however, just as Calderon's eyes flashed in surprise, Montross felt a warm splash of liquid. And his left side went numb.

  "No!" It was Alexander's voice.

  Then a chuckle, and Isaac moved into focus. Holding the cane with a sword point dripping red from its tip. Isaac's grinning face angled down on him as Montross slipped on his own blood, fell to his knees.

  Calderon's voice: "Damn fool kid! We need him alive. Alive!"

  "He is, dear father. He is."

  "Pull through, he will," said Jacob at his other side. But his voice wasn't as confident.

  Alexander moved into view, his eyes pleading. "Stay with me, uncle Xavier! Stay."

  But Montross could only shake his head. Leaned forward and whispered: "Don't give up. Your father's coming."

  And then, as the machine rumbled and sparkled with emerald energy, as Calderon roared uncontrollably with the power he sent out as a conduit, a power surging on a path of destruction toward Mt. Shasta, Montross collapsed.

  7.

  Outside of Gacona—Twilight

  Caleb lowered the binoculars. He shifted on his belly, crept backwards and stood back up when he was out of sight of the HAARP facility. "Can't see anything through the snowfall."

  "Not with those eyes," Nina said, watching with amusement as he brushed the snow off his chest. "Try your other skills."

  "Try yours. You should be able to zero in on your kids."

  "Our kids. Plus one of yours." She leaned back against the Jeep Cherokee. "You've got better odds."

  "And skill, apparently. Even with my drawbacks."

  "Guilt. Self-oppression." Nina snickered. "Do you slap yourself for fun or just wallow in your own loathing?"

  "Knock it off and try to help. We've got to get in there, and undetected long enough to use this spear and destroy the Emerald Table before it's used."

  "Hopefully they haven't already done it. Those arrays are in motion, from what I can see through the storm."

  "Either way, let's go." He started back for the Jeep. "Maybe we just try the brazen frontal assault and see what happens. Maybe the spear will protect us."

  Nina laughed. "What's the quote? ‘Heaven looks after fools, drunks and the United States'?"

  Caleb sighed. "At least with the Spear on our soil, it seems the latter's been pretty much true. Not sure about fools and drunks, but I'm not seeing an alternative to a foolish act at this point. And besides, with this snowstorm, we might get close without attracting attention."

  Shrugging, Nina followed, then set a hand on his shoulder as he was about to get in. Caleb turned, surprised, about to shrug away to avoid any psychic intrusion her touch might elicit, but instead, he found she had other plans.

  Her other hand, fast as a bullet, whipped around the back of his neck, and before he could struggle, she pulled his face close and locked her lips on his.

  And as the storm seemed to take note and surge in their direction, the ferocity of the icy wind was dulled by the heat in her touch. Caleb moaned, his legs went weak and his mind evaporated into her insistent caress, supplying visions of complete clarity, plucked from a short distance away.

  A face in the snowstorm, only a face as the body is covered in a gossamer gown the color of the snow. Her hair, untouched by the flakes, and her eyes: deep green, lush like a forest of sweet-smelling pine.

  Lydia.

  It's like she's watching, but there's no hint of jealousy. Closer and closer she comes, and now her breath exudes crystalline steam, so close as her eyes melt with emotion, with a mix of pity and urgency, as she speaks.

  "Let go, Caleb."

  The viewpoint shudders. Flickers, and Nina's appearance superimposes over Lydia's.

  The response floats over the howling wind. "I can't."

  "Let go, and forgive."

 
"Forgive her? Never!"

  A hand raises and soft, warm fingers touch his frozen cheek. "Not just her."

  Another shudder, Nina and Lydia joining, two sets of matching green eyes boring into his mind. "Forgive..."

  "... myself?"

  Lydia-Nina smile. Fingertips linger on his cheek, brush his lips... Eyes shine once more as they retreat... then are lost in the swirling, screaming storm.

  And the kiss is broken.

  Nina pulled away, fighting a look of shock and dismay. "What was that?"

  But Caleb closed the gap, not thinking, reacting only on gut emotion. Forgive, forgive. Accept what's been there all along.

  He locked his numb hands around the back of Nina's head, dropped one to her side, and pulled her close. Before she could react, other than to say "What the f—" , he pressed his lips hard against hers.

  Their eyes closed, bodies pressed tight and suddenly becoming rigid, locked in an unbreakable embrace as the visions unraveled, then coagulated and shot through them both simultaneously:

  An ancient battlefield, something out of an expensive CGI movie: war machines squaring off amid hundreds of thousands of foot soldiers. Cannons firing energy particle shells of some kind, ripping up the earth, decimating entire battalions. A purple-crimson sky, roiling with smoke scattered by brutal winds. Mushroom clouds appear painted on the horizon in a grotesque caricature of Armageddon.

  On one of the futuristic tank-like vehicles: a man with a jackal-headed Egyptian-like helmet roars a battle cry and raises a long-handled weapon with a familiar spear point at its tip. A lance that dazzles with its own light, as if reflecting the brilliance of an unseen star. Lightning rips from its tip, scattering the enemy soldiers ahead, as they roar forward—

  —toward a huge pyramid set amidst a burning jungle.

  Caleb winced, tried to pull away, but now Nina was latched on tight, her mouth open, tongue entwined with his, two snakes hungrily devouring and sharing each other's every thought.

  The stars...

  And the small green and blue neighbor, just clearing the eastern rim of this lunar landscape. Cratered, desolate. Except for a structure. A ziggurat shape, bordered with massive columns and an arched entrance. The hint of emerald stairs leading up into mystery. Somber Ibis-headed statues on either side, welcoming the elusive, non-corporeal visitors.

  —who move forward, reverently bowing, then ascending.

  At the stairs' apex, a near-blinding light. Then, features that resolve into enormous shelves. Stacks upon stacks of metallic-looking scrolls with oddly-familiar symbols forming titles. Shelves that stretch on and on into the darkness.

  All this fades as the light explodes, pinwheeling into kaleidoscopic swirls. And then they're back on a snowy field. The white dims, forms appear: giant beams of metal on stands, like giant fans. Turning, aiming into the sky.

  Exploding light, pinwheels.

  And now, a red clay surface. A desert stretching, unbroken until a large cliff, and what appear to be a series of triangular structures aligned before it. The cliff shakes, shedding boulders and the dust from millennia. The pyramids tremble, then shatter like toy clay pieces. A side of the cliff collapses, turns this way, revealing a giant EYE, cracking, splitting, tumbling a mile down into a pile of rubble.

  Another explosion of light and then a single chair appears. A machine. Wires and tubes and consoles hooked to it.

  And three young boys stand before it. The youngest is hesitant, but he moves forward on trembling legs as if this is his destiny.

  But the other takes a weapon from behind his back. A familiar ancient spear point. Raises it above the younger one's head—

  And then, finally, the vision ripped apart.

  And Caleb pulled away from Nina.

  The wind and the stinging snow slapped at their faces, but still the heat between them refused to waver.

  "What the hell?" Nina shouted.

  "I don't know!" Caleb looked down and saw that their hands were still together, holding each other the way kids used to at a sixth grade dance.

  "A library on the Moon? Some ancient battle with the Spear?" Nina tried to shake the images from her head. "And was that Isaac, with the spear?"

  Caleb nodded grimly. "He was going to kill Alexander."

  Nina's eyes darkened. "Then let's stop him. The hell with the subtle plan. We go in fast and hard."

  Inside the Jeep, Caleb found himself in the passenger seat, trying to warm up as Nina started the engine. He thought of something. "That's a good plan, but we can improve our odds a bit."

  "How?"

  "Still got your untraceable satellite phone?"

  "Yeah, back there. Next to the half-a-billion-year-old snow globe."

  Caleb turned and looked down, where they'd secured the ancient gift from Montross, the thing that had been obscuring their location from all psychics, his sister included. He reached back and picked up the phone.

  "What are you thinking?" Nina asked as she revved the engine, then tore ahead.

  "Thinking we could get Temple to supply a little distraction. Some air support, or at least a fly-by to distract them while we come in fast through the back door."

  Nina grinned at him, then licked her lips as if re-tasting him. "Good idea."

  Caleb dialed, keeping his eyes on Nina. Forgive her?

  She glanced at him as she sped the Jeep over the ridge and into the air before it struck ground and dug in. He turned away, phone to his ear; and in the windshield's reflection, against the nearly impenetrable blanket of snow, he saw his own face staring back at him.

  First things first.

  8.

  Mount Shasta

  Phoebe held on for dear life as the tram raced at top speed. Still, at the halfway point, she managed to free a hand and reach out to Orlando's, clasping it tight. They shared a look of fear and confusion. She knew he was as blind as she was. Too much adrenaline, too much shouting, yelling and chaos. And... fear for the girl.

  The Hummingbird, strapped in beside her father, clutching him tight. And Diana, on the other side, eyes wide, glancing out the windows as if expecting to observe a half-remembered face from her past somewhere in the darkness and flashing lights.

  Temple yelled over the screeching metal, "Do you see anything? Any psychic intel? How close is it?"

  "You mean, are we going to make it?" Phoebe asked, focusing the question.

  Orlando shook his head, lost, unable to concentrate. "Can't see a thing!"

  Suddenly, something rocked the tram. Everyone jolted in their seats. Windows shattered, rocks pounded the ceiling. The mountain trembled. Aria screamed. Out the windows, the tunnel's lights blinked off, then on, then off.

  And they plunged into darkness.

  #

  Orlando tightened his grip on Phoebe and held onto one thought. That bald dude didn't save me down there just so I could get flattened in this tin can on the way out. "I think we're going to make it."

  "You think?" Temple shouted from the front, looking out over the driver's shoulder. "Or you know?"

  Orlando shrugged. "Just a—"

  "Don't say ‘hunch'."

  "—hunch."

  Temple shook his head.

  "Just the same," Diana called out from the back, "I hope the others made it out."

  Temple nodded. "One tram evacuated before us, and there were two teams of psychics in the field, and one in town on a training mission. At least they'll be okay."

  "Yeah," Orlando said dryly. "Stargate will live on!"

  "No one will live on," Phoebe countered. "Unless Caleb can find and stop Calderon."

  She dug her nails into Orlando's hand. He was about to tell her to chill and enjoy the ride when the tram rocked violently. The driver screamed just before they impacted something and the car jumped the tracks.

  "Oh, shi—"

  It flipped, slammed off the walls, then careened forward, sparks roaring like the Fourth of July behind them, bounced again, and then, like in an underground ro
llercoaster, it simply dropped.

  Down a huge incline where the rock floor had been, gliding on its belly until finally, slamming head-first into a barrier, punching through rocks and grinding to a stop.

  #

  "Everyone ok?" Orlando helped Phoebe up. He wanted to make sure neither of them had any broken bones before verifying the condition of the others, but she was already up and rushing for Aria.

  "She's okay," Diana said, stepping in the way. Orlando couldn't see around her in the blinking overhead lights and the sparks still flying from the smashed equipment, but he thought he saw the little girl leaning over her father.

  "Give her a minute," Diana whispered, shaking her head sadly.

  Phoebe squeezed Orlando's hand tighter. "Oh no..."

  Someone behind them cleared his throat. Temple, limping, bleeding from half-dozen cuts on his face and neck. "Sorry, and I know this is no place for something like this, but we don't have a minute."

  "Sir," Diana pleaded. "She saw him die. She—"

  "She'll be fine," Aria said, and they all turned to see her form in the shadows. Aria laid a gentle kiss on her father's forehead, then backed away, head bowed. Then she turned and with eyes brimming with tears, she nodded. "And I know, we can't take him with us."

  Phoebe gasped. "There's got to be a way."

  "No," said Aria, climbing over wrecked seats and broken glass. "There isn't. Just like there isn't time to climb back up and run to the exit."

  Temple let her pass, but shielded her from the cockpit, where another casualty lay impaled under a pile of granite. "Then?"

  "We need to go ahead."

  Phoebe looked ahead, following the beam of light that Temple just turned on.

  Aria's little feet crunched as she moved ahead. "Into their place."

  Orlando swallowed with anticipation, and after another step he realized the hand he was holding was now smaller. Aria was between them, holding Phoebe's hand as well as his, urging them forward.

  Orlando blinked as she squeezed his fingers and he gasped, the same time as Phoebe.