He's stronger, more adept at using this form.
Wincing with another blow, he weakly raised his arms to defend himself as his crazed adversary continued the beating.
But I've succeeded. Broke the connection. Rejoicing inside, he saw an opening and shoved Montross backward. And I've still won. He glanced at the body lying on the ground.
Time to sever the cord, Montross. Set you free to linger in limbo forever.
Turning back to his own kneeling body, he was about to re-enter it when he saw the impossible: Caleb Crowe had a glowing weapon in hand, something that burned away all thought and reason.
No! The Lance!
Calderon rushed toward his body, driven by absolute rage. He willed himself back inside...
But at the moment of contact, something passed in front of him like a breath of cold air. He tried to enter, but was violently repelled, tossed across the room, spinning and floating uncontrollably. He spun and spun and finally righted himself. Rushed back toward his body, but froze.
There in front of him, Mason Calderon stood up and stretched, grinning from ear to ear.
#
Caleb had no choice.
"Drop the lance!" Isaac yelled, shifting the blade around and pressing it against Alexander's throat. "Drop it, you better, or see your boy's blood paint the floor."
Alexander stiffened, chin up above the cold steel point as if trying to stay afloat. "Dad, don't listen. You can't give it up."
"Do it, ‘Dad'." Isaac sneered at him. "Prove you're just as worthless as we've always believed."
Caleb started to lower the weapon.
"There you go. Embarrassed, eh Jacob? Good thing we never saw daddy before now, righto? Got all we needed from mom, it seems."
Alexander's eyes flickered to Nina's side, to Jacob, the boy standing now. Slowly. Deliberately. Nina's arm was outstretched toward Jacob, but her hand was empty, as if she had just given him something. Then she laid her head down, eyes flickering with pain, exhaustion and blood loss overcoming her.
And then Alexander got it. What was missing...
But Jacob answered first. "Not righto, brother." And he aimed Nina's Beretta at his brother.
"Oh-ho!" Isaac chortled. "You're kidding me?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. And Mom's just showed me something."
"You let her touch you? After what Mr. Calderon warned you about?"
"She showed me you can't be strong without being vulnerable. And you can't be superior if you have no compassion."
Isaac made a face.
"A stupid trick."
"No, I saw it. Her life, what happened as a child, what made her how she is now. And then, her feelings for our father."
"Ridiculous." Isaac tugged Alexander's head back. "So after all we've done together, you're dismissing our destiny? You're taking their side?"
Jacob let out an exhausted sigh. "I was never on your side, brother." He sighted and pulled the trigger.
Isaac tried to slash Alexander at the same time, but it was useless; the bullet caught him under the collarbone and spun him away. The cane dropped as Isaac fell onto his side, choking on the pain, unbelievable pain that washed over everything, every glorious fate he had nurtured his entire life. He slipped in his blood, staggered, then lay on his side, vision blurring.
"Just like shooting a deer," said Jacob, who then stepped away, leaving an unobstructed view of his mother. Of Nina, lying in the same position, reaching out to him as they both slowly bled to death. She gave Jacob a look of three parts admiration and one part pity.
But then a shifting sound, and a hand came into view, a hand with a dragon seal ring on the ring finger.
Calderon.
He bent down and picked up the staff, then yelled for the guards to stop and back away, even as Caleb rushed him, lance up high.
"Dad, No!" Alexander yelled, and that stopped him, mid-swing.
Caleb froze, the spear point throbbing and pulsing in his grasp, just a few inches from Calderon's smug face, pointing right between his eyes. His eyes... something that seemed odd. Off-putting and weirdly familiar about them.
Calderon opened his mouth, cleared his throat and was about to speak when Alexander, holding his forehead, eyes clenched tight, yelled: "The Tablet! Do it now, before—"
The machine hummed again, roaring now. Surging with a new burst of power.
"—before it fires! He's changed the target, right at our feet now! Do it, do it, do it!"
Caleb stared from his boy, who was obviously in the midst of a vision, to the machine. Who was in there? Montross still? Someone—"
And for a brief instant he saw it too. Like a transparent page flitted over the backdrop, this one with an afterimage superimposed on it, an image of Mason Calderon seated like a god, head thrown back, mouth open, shouting out with all the power of the universe. The power that would rupture a world.
"Now," right behind Caleb's shoulder, whispered Calderon-who-wasn't-Calderon.
And then, a flitting glimpse of a woman bathed in silver, just standing beside Alexander, as if her hand was on his shoulder; Lydia, here at the end when everything came down to Caleb, when all he had to do was trust.
But first, forgive and let go.
He closed his eyes. I'm sorry, one last time, I'm sorry, but no more. I must accept.
And act.
And four huge lunging steps brought him to the edge of the great chair, the machine whirling with plasma energy, trembling and shaking the foundations. He brought the Spear back, like an Olympic javelin thrower, and just as reality fluttered and Calderon appeared, roaring his protests in the other realm, Caleb thrust home the lance, slamming the point directly through the slot.
As it skewered the Emerald Tablet, a flash of light erupted and he was there, straddling both worlds. The dazzling golden spear thrust into the heart of the kaleidoscopically-shifting tablet, splitting it down the middle, through its multiple dimensions, then diagonally twice, forming a star shape.
All that knowledge, all the wisdom of millennia, the symbols, equations and mystic instructions... rending apart, shattering.
Caleb felt the wound as if he'd stabbed his own heart. It had to be done.
And besides, came a voice that wasn't his. There are other routes to knowledge. And a succession of majestic structures hurtled through his vision: great pillared repositories set in the unlikeliest of settings: lunar monasteries, crimson landscapes, frozen wastes under alien stars.
It's all out there, waiting for us.
Caleb shoved the spear in farther, twisted, then wrenched it free.
"NOOO!" Calderon shouted in his mind, and reached for him, but Caleb swung the spear free in a wide arc, slashing Calderon's ethereal form across the neck. A disembodied, glowing head went sailing into the gloom just as the tablet exploded with such force that Caleb was hurled ten feet back, just as the machine tore apart and pieces scattered in all directions.
Gasping, dropping the spear which was now too hot to hold, his fingers scalded, Caleb stood up, only to be surrounded by six soldiers pointing MP5s at his face.
"Stop!" yelled Senator Calderon, now leaning on his cane, standing over Isaac's body. "It's over," he said. Not to the guards, not to Jacob or Nina or Alexander, but to Caleb.
"It's over," he said again, and added a wink and a smile.
Alexander raced past him and slid by the guards to throw his arms around Caleb. "Dad!" Then, lower: "Don't worry, I saw it all."
Calderon's voice cracked then sounded more urgent as he addressed the guards. "Go, get medical help." He leaned down beside Nina, and curiously, took her hand in his. Through glazed eyes, she smiled at him. Jacob knelt beside his brother and bowed his head.
Caleb stood up warily. "What the hell is going on?"
Alexander pulled on his arm, and when Caleb bent down, Alexander whispered in his ear.
Then Calderon turned, reached over and closed Xavier Montross' eyelids. "Sleep tight, old friend." He stood, faced Caleb and spr
ead out his arms, as if feeling for the fit of a new suit.
"I don't believe it." Caleb just stared, wide-eyed.
"He's right, my dear half-brother. Not a bad trade overall." Xavier Montross, speaking through his new flesh, grinned. "And now that I'm a powerful senator, things are going to go a little differently."
12.
Seattle, Washington - 12 Hours Later
When Caleb finally left the hospital room, it was only after a promise, doubly made, that he would not leave Nina this time. That he'd be back to check on her in a few hours.
"And besides," Caleb had said, leaning over and brushing her dark curls away from those penetrating eyes that for the first time displayed a sense of weakness, "Jacob wants to spend some time getting to know you."
He had backed up, and then let the boy come closer. Jacob pulled up a chair and leaned in, eager to hear more of his mother's stories, the ones she could tell just by touching him, with little effort.
Caleb eased the door shut behind him, and went to the conference room that Colonel Temple had secured for their use and debriefing. Temple had his arm in a sling, and the others were all in some form of recovery: bandages, tired eyes, covered in dust and filth.
"Looks like we could all use a good hosing down and a night's sleep at the Ritz," Temple said, "but that'll have to wait."
Phoebe came over and gave Caleb another big hug. "Good to have you back, big brother."
Caleb squeezed her tight, then let go and nodded to Orlando. He shook hands with Diana Montgomery and offered the same to the girl, Aria, but she merely high-fived him and went back to whispering and giggling to Alexander, who was blushing profusely.
"Alexander? Made a new friend, I see." Caleb took a seat across from his son, who just grinned sheepishly. "It's okay," Caleb said, "just stay where I can see the both of you. If you're out of my sight and I go looking and only see blue, I'm going to be mad."
Phoebe kicked him under the table.
Orlando, finishing his second Red Bull, licked his lips and grinned foolishly at Phoebe. "Still, I may have to borrow your talents, Miss Hummingbird, from time to time."
Phoebe glared at him. "Don't you dare try to hide from me. Or I'll go dig up that Spear—wherever you hid it, big brother. Seriously, I'll find it and—"
Just then, the door banged open.
And Senator Calderon walked in, closing the door behind him.
"Ah, good. You're all here." He walked inside, leaning slightly on a new cane, this one carved from a knobby pine. "Stupid limp. Guy should've taken better care of himself."
Smiling at Diana, he took a seat beside her, and after a moment she took his hand in hers.
"This is going to take some getting used to," she said.
"I'll get his body in better shape," Montross promised.
"I can wait," she whispered. "As long as I've got you back."
"So," Temple asked breaking the awkward moment. "Senator. What was their answer?"
Calderon-Montross smiled and took a moment to answer. "How could they refuse me? Apparently I've got half the country's leaders in my pocket, or dying to get there. Influence is too tame a word."
Caleb looked around, confused. "Sorry, I've been in seeing to Nina's recovery. What's going on?"
Temple sighed. "Only my retirement." He leaned back, rubbing his neck with his good hand. "From direct involvement, at least. Getting too old for this. Time for new blood."
Caleb blinked at him, then at Montross. Everyone else in the room seemed to be smiling at some inside joke.
"Congratulations," Montross said. "Caleb Crowe, you are now the new acting head of the Stargate Program."
Caleb nearly fell off his chair. "What? No, I couldn't, not after—"
"You can," said Temple.
"And you should," said Montross. "I know they royally screwed your dad, and Waxman did what he did, but you have a chance to do it your way."
Caleb looked at Phoebe and Orlando for help. "But the Morpheus Initiative—"
"—can still exist, just merge it in with Stargate."
"Bigger budget, more resources," Phoebe said.
"Better benefits," Orlando added, shaking his empty can. "Maybe get us a decent health plan?"
"Think about it," Temple said. "I'll stay on and help as an advisor. But you're the man with the skill. You, Phoebe, Orlando. Montross and Nina. Alexander. You guys were way ahead of us, and sure I've done okay with recruiting, but you... You can do this the way it should be done."
Caleb looked helplessly from Phoebe's smiling face to Montross, his eyes shining more and more like the true Montross.
"Do it," the senator said. "Because I'm going to need your skills very soon. Yours, and a lot of others'. We've got to build this big, because the threat's not over."
"What do you mean?" Caleb asked, his head still spinning.
"The threat," Montross said, "and the opportunity."
"The Custodians," Phoebe said. "They're still here. And what they are scares the beJesus out of us."
"I thought you said they saved you. Both here and in Afghanistan."
"I did. They did." Phoebe sighed, leaning in across the table. "But the one told me that they ‘weren't what they seemed'."
"And some of us," Orlando said, "we got impressions, hits of different kinds of stuff. Scary impressions..."
Alexander added to the discussion: "Like maybe there are two sets of these beings lurking around."
"Some," said Montross, "that are watching out for us, maybe even encouraging us mere mortals on the path back to wisdom..."
"Others," said Phoebe, "more like the Old Testament nasty gods who want to keep us down. Divided, with our link to the eternal forever denied."
Caleb closed his eyes, then resisted the stirring, the call of visions that tempted. After a breath, he surveyed the room, stopping on Alexander. "So what can we do?"
"You know what to do," Montross said, standing up slowly. "Get back to work. Look, find, learn. You have more tools now, and will have much more resources at your disposal."
"A new headquarters?" Phoebe asked.
"With free parking?" Orlando added.
"Back in Sodus, New York?" Alexander insisted.
Montross shrugged. "If you wish."
Caleb sighed, then nodded to Temple. "I still don't know."
"I do," Montross said. "In fact, this whole conversation has been redundant. I've seen the outcome. I know how it ends."
"Crazy psychics," Temple said. "Before you go, Senator. And Ms. Montgomery. Tell them about the other phase of the investigation."
Diana stood up beside Montross, her hand still holding his. "That's where I come in. NASA's priorities will be changing."
"Again," said Montross, "my influence. Been a busy few hours, but I've lit some fires under some asses. Got the bug in their ears. Now that the shuttle missions are done, we need a few high profile wins. Targets..."
"Objectives," said Diana. "Things we already know are there, but will have our probes ‘discover'. Things that will blow the lid off conventional wisdom."
Phoebe smiled at Caleb. "And you thought the books under the Pharos were explosive!"
Caleb felt his pulse rising, his palms sweating with excitement. Now there were flashes of visions behind his eyes.
Those temple-like buildings nestled in lunar craters. Geometric structures in sacred patterns on remote worlds, distant testaments to a former existence. Beacons promising greater and greater rewards.
But there were risks.
These Custodians. Watchers.
And most assuredly, defenses of the sort only members of The Morpheus Initiative could handle.
Caleb blinked, then nodded to Temple. To Montross and Diana, to his friends, his sister and finally, to his son whose broad smile let him know he was doing the right thing. The only thing.
"All right," he said proudly. "I'm in."
THE END
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Author's Notes
Thanks for c
oming along this incredible journey with me. Hopefully you've been entertained, and along the way, maybe had your mind stretched—or possibly batted around like a piñata. That was ultimately my intention. Our world (and indeed our universe) is a strange place, and to think we've got it figured out is just plain lunacy. We've come a long way, but any peek into the some of these enduring mysteries should just put us back in our humble chairs.
But in any case, the research for these books was an extension of my love for the unknown, beginning with shows like In Search Of as a child, and continuing with books, books and more books (my room looking a lot like Caleb's, growing up). And so, like a magician eager to reveal his tricks, I'd like to share some of the more 'incredulous' bits that came out of influences for this series, and particularly this novel. Obviously I don't believe everything I read, and there are a lot of debunkers out there for each and every one of these things, but there are a lot of compelling—and large, very large—ideas here, enough to make your brain hurt, and possibly I hope, give you pause and wonder, what is the truth? Is it really out there? And is it way more mind-boggling than we can imagine?
In no particular order, here you'll find some background on the novel's more intriguing concepts:
1) The Spear of Destiny. It's been a major subject of a lot of thrillers, and yes—of great interest to Adolf and his pals. Also called the Holy Lance, this spear was the one that supposedly pierced Jesus's side as he hung on the cross in John's account of his death. Legend has it that whoever possesses the lance will rule the world. Richard Wagner's opera Parsival revolved around the Spear and clearly influenced Hitler's dreams of world supremacy. After obsessively studying the history of the Spear and learning that numerous emperors from Constantine to Frederick all claimed power deriving from its possession, he was determined to acquire it—which he did when he invaded Austria in 1938. And yes, the day the Americans took Nuremberg and the Spear changed hands, Hitler took his own life. History has it that Patton returned the spear to the Austrians; but of course, I've taken license here and asked, What if he didn't?
The Cydonia Objective (Morpheus Initiative 03) Page 28