The Atlantis Trilogy Box Set- The Complete Series

by A. G. Riddle

  Kate’s words shocked Dr. Shen Chang, even though he had already known about the Bell and the hibernation—that part was no surprise.

  In 1978, Shen had been a researcher on a project funded by Immari International. He had gotten a call one morning from Howard Keegan, a man he had never met before. Keegan told him that he was the new head of the Immari organization and that he needed Shen’s help, that Shen would be handsomely rewarded, would never have to worry about research funding again, and would do incredible work—work that could save the world but that he would never be able to tell anyone about.

  Shen had agreed. Keegan led him into a room with four tubes. One held a young boy, the man he came to know as Dorian Sloane. The other held Patrick Pierce, the man who Keegan said had found the tubes. The last tube held a pregnant woman.

  “We will release her last, and you will do everything you can to save her, but your first priority is the child.”

  Shen had never been so afraid in his entire life. What happened next was permanently burned into his memory. He remembered holding the child, her eyes… the same eyes Kate Warner now stared at him with. Incredible.

  Adam Shaw marveled at Kate’s story. There’s more to this than I thought; more to her than I thought. But I will deliver her safely, no matter what.

  Kate was tired of waiting. “Will someone please say something?”

  “Yes,” Janus began. “I would like to revise my earlier assertions. I now believe you are the Omega. And… it changes some things. My understanding of Martin’s work, for one. I no longer think his note is just a chronology. That is only the half of it. Martin’s code is much more than that. It is a roadmap to fix the human genome—to correct the problems with the Atlantis Gene, to create a viable Human-Atlantean hybrid, a new species, of which you are the first. Martin’s sequence starts with the introduction of the Atlantis Gene—with Adam—then tracks the interferences, the missed correction at the time of the Flood, the Dark Ages that followed… and ends with you, Kate, someone with a stable, functioning Atlantis Gene, thanks to the tube that saved your life and your extraordinary birth. But… the real question, the practical matter becomes: what do we do now? We have our research, we understand Martin’s notes. We need to find a lab—”

  Kate interrupted. “There’s one last thing I haven’t told you all. Martin was one of the founders of a consortium called Continuity. It’s a group of researchers from around the world. They’ve been running experiments for years, looking for a cure. In Marbella, Martin had a research site.” A thought occurred to her. “I worked in a lead-encased building. I did a series of experiments, and Martin periodically took DNA samples from me.”

  “Do you think he was experimenting on you or on the subjects?” Dr. Chang asked.

  Kate was sure of it now. “Both. Martin told me that he believed I was the key to everything. Seeing the code, Omega… yes, I know it. Continuity has all his results. I’ve been in contact with them.”

  Shock spread across David’s face.

  “What?” Kate asked him.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head.

  She focused on Chang and Janus. “I think we should send Continuity our research and discuss our theories with them.”

  Dr. Janus took the memory stick out of his pocket. “I agree.”

  Chang nodded.

  68

  Somewhere near Isla de Alborán

  Mediterranean Sea

  The call with Continuity had been intriguing.

  Kate felt that she finally understood the experiments she had been a part of in Marbella.

  For years, Continuity had developed an algorithm called the Genome Symphony. The principle was that whenever a gene therapy or retrovirus introduced a genetic change into a given genome, the Symphony algorithm could predict gene expression. Those predictions, when combined with knowledge about where the Atlantean endogenous retroviruses were buried in the genome, could predict a person’s response to the Atlantis Plague and a given therapy.

  Chang and Janus’s research, which isolated the genome changes from the two plague outbreaks at the beginning and end of the Middle Ages, was the missing piece—or so Continuity hoped.

  Kate watched Dr. Janus manipulate the computer, loading the research into Symphony. He was a genius. Kate had never seen anyone his age with that sort of computer aptitude.

  Kate spoke into the sat phone, which was in speaker mode. “What happens now?”

  “Now we wait,” Dr. Brenner said. “The algorithms will run and come up with possible therapies. Then we test them and hope to get lucky. If we find an effective therapy, we can deploy it quickly. Did Martin describe our gene implants?”

  “I am not familiar,” Dr. Janus said.

  “Essentially we implant a biotech device subdermally that allows us to deliver a customized therapy to each person. The implants are connected wirelessly to a server inside each Orchid District.”

  The revelation shocked Kate. “I thought the implants were for tracking. And doesn’t Orchid deliver the therapy?”

  Brenner spoke quickly. “Well, yes and no. The implants do provide an inventory control—I mean, tracking apparatus, which is vitally important. Since the human genome is so diverse, we found that each therapy needs to be customized a bit, tweaked.”

  Kate nodded her head. It was extremely cutting-edge—an implanted biotech device delivering a genomically tailored therapy to every person. It was decades ahead of anything in use. It was a shame that it had taken the Immari threat and the plague to reach such a breakthrough.

  “If the implant delivers the true therapy, then why still give everyone Orchid?” Dr. Janus asked.

  “Three reasons. In some early trials, we found that the implants couldn’t build a viable therapy for everyone. The implants build antivirals from the enzymes and proteins in the host’s body—it essentially does a complicated bit of snipping to create the therapy it needs. But the process with an implant alone only worked for about eighty percent of hosts. So we give the implants a sort of viral stock—a proverbial block of viral clay it can carve a therapy out of. That’s what’s in the Orchid pills—viral stock.”

  “Very interesting…” Janus seemed lost in thought.

  “The other reasons?” Kate asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Brenner said. “I get lost in the science. The second reason was speed. We knew we would need to deploy a new therapy quickly: manufacturing a new drug was out of the question, and of course this is a variable solution. We knew we could be looking at a base therapy with possibly thousands of small tweaks by the implants to make it work worldwide.”

  “And the last reason?”

  “Hope. People taking Orchid everyday… we felt we needed to give them something they could see and hold, something tangible, something they knew: a drug for a disease. And now, I hope, you’ve given us the missing piece—the formula we need to pass to the implants. Symphony is processing your data now. Assuming it finds a corrective therapy, we can deploy it globally across the Orchid Alliance within hours.”

  Around the small saloon, the scientists nodded. David and Shaw eyed each other.

  Dr. Brenner interrupted the tension. “There’s something I haven’t told you, Dr. Warner.”

  “What?” Kate asked through the speakerphone, not bothering to make the call private.

  “The Orchid leadership has ordered us to execute Euthanasia Protocol.”

  “I don’t—”

  “We had standing orders,” Brenner went on. “If either Orchid failed or the Immari ever became a viable threat, our orders were to issue cancellation commands to the implants—to let the dying die quickly. That would leave a world of Orchid survivors, a base to save the Alliance. So far, we have simply ignored those orders. We’ve focused on our research and hoped the leadership wouldn’t actually go through with the plan. But we’ve heard rumors. If we don’t execute Euthanasia Protocol, Allied troops may take control of Continuity and do it for us.”

  Kate sat back agains
t the white couch.

  No one said a word.

  “Can you slow down Euthanasia Protocol?” Kate asked.

  “We can try. But… let’s hope your therapy works.”

  Downstairs, in their stateroom, David almost screamed at Kate, “You mean you had an open line to a global consortium this whole time?”

  “Yes. What?”

  “Call them back. Here’s what you say…”

  Kate called the Continuity number. Dr. Brenner?—No, everything is fine. I need a favor. I need you to contact British Intelligence and ask them if they have an officer named Adam Shaw. Also, could you inquire with the World Health Organization about someone named Dr. Arthur Janus?—Yes, that would be very helpful.—Fine. Call me back as soon as you know. It’s very important.

  Dr. Paul Brenner hung up the phone and glanced at the names. Shaw and Janus. What was happening on board that boat? Was Kate in danger?

  He had actually grown quite attached to her. Seeing her in the videos for weeks, then talking with her in person. He hoped she would be all right. He picked up the phone and dialed his contacts at the WHO and British Intelligence. Each promised they would call back as soon as they had answers.

  Paul had one more call to make—he hoped—but it would have to wait on Symphony, on the results.

  He exited his office and walked down the hall of the CDC office building. The mood was dismal; everyone was overworked and burned out. Spirits were low, and for good reason: they had made no progress on a cure for the plague and had no prospects—not until the call from Kate nearly half an hour ago.

  How long would it take Symphony? If there even was a cure to find in the research Kate and her team had sent…

  The glass wall that held Orchid Ops parted, two glass pieces sliding to let him pass. Every head in the converted conference room turned to him. The scene was like the study hall of a college dorm, where students had crammed for sixty days straight: the conference tables were arranged haphazardly, littered with laptops, stacks of papers, maps, coffee-stained reports, and half-full Styrofoam cups.

  The looks on their faces told Paul everything he needed to know.

  The four large screens that dotted the walls confirmed it. The flashing text read: One therapy identified.

  They had seen this text so many times before, and the celebration each time had been a little more muted than the previous. But the atmosphere felt different now. The team swarmed Paul, and everyone was talking excitedly about the new data and what to do next. Research sites were proposed and shot down.

  “We test it here, on our own cohort,” Paul said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “We’ve got some people who can’t wait.” He glanced at the Euthanasia Protocol countdown. Less than four hours left. There were a lot of people that couldn’t wait.

  But he wanted to be sure before they rolled it out worldwide. He had a phone call to make.

  On his way back to his office, Paul stopped by the makeshift infirmary.

  He stood at his sister’s bedside. Her breathing was shallow, but he knew she recognized him. She reached out for his hand.

  He stepped forward to take her hand. Her grip was weak.

  “I think we’ve found it, Elaine. You’re going to be just fine.”

  He felt her hand squeeze his, ever so slightly.

  Paul picked up the phone. Several minutes later, he was connected to the Situation Room in the White House.

  “Mr. President, we have a new therapy. We’re extremely optimistic. I’m asking you to delay Euthanasia Protocol.”

  69

  Somewhere near Isla de Alborán

  Mediterranean Sea

  “How long?” David demanded.

  “Brenner said he would get back to me as soon as possible. Continuity has their hands full—”

  “We’ll be at Isla de Alborán within three hours. When we get there, I’ll have to arm Shaw and Kamau and do something with the scientists. We need to figure out which one of them killed Martin and disabled the boat. ”

  Kate sat on the bed. She knew if they began debating the killer it would simply devolve into another fight. And she didn’t want to fight, not with him, not at that moment. She slipped her shirt off and threw it on the chair.

  David’s eyes flashed. He took out his sidearm and covered it with a pillow. He pulled his shirt off, then his pants.

  He stepped toward Kate, and she kissed his abdomen. He pushed her down onto the bed and crawled on top of her.

  For a moment, the entire world outside faded away. She didn’t think about the plague, or the Immari, or Martin’s note, or the killer on board. David. He was all she wanted, the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

  It was hot as blazes belowdecks, but David hadn’t bothered to adjust the air.

  He rolled over on the bed and lay there naked, beside Kate, both of their bodies soaked with sweat. His breathing slowed before hers, but neither said a word.

  Time stood still. They both stared at the ceiling. David didn’t know how long it had been, but Kate turned to him and kissed his neck just below his chin.

  The sensation brought him out of the moment, and David asked the question he had avoided thinking about since the call with Dr. Brenner. “You think this is going to work? That Continuity can just take Janus and Chang’s research and just… I don’t know, ‘snap it together’ like the Triforce and magically have the cure?”

  “Triforce?”

  “Seriously?”

  “What?”

  “From Zelda,” David said. “You know, Link collects the Triforce to rescue Princess Zelda and save Hyrule.”

  “I never saw it.”

  “It’s uh… a video game, not a movie.” How can she not know this? That was more shocking to David than Martin’s code. But… it was a discussion for another day. She probably also didn’t know the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek. He likely had a lot of work to do, assuming they lived through the next few hours. “Look, forget Zelda, my question is whether this can work. Do you believe it?”

  “I have to. We’re doing all we can, and that’s all we can do.”

  David lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling again. What was the point he was trying to make? He didn’t even know. All of a sudden, he felt scared. Apprehensive. It wasn’t the battle that loomed on the horizon. It was something else, a feeling he couldn’t put his finger on.

  Kate sat up again. “How do you know so much about boats?” She was trying to change the subject.

  “I used to own one in Jakarta.”

  “Didn’t know secret agents had time for leisurely activities like boating,” she said, somewhat playfully.

  David smiled. “It wasn’t a boat of leisure, I assure you. But it could have been. It was an element of an escape plan—if I ever needed it. And it came in handy, if you recall.”

  “I can’t recall. I wish I could.” She straightened the covers.

  She was right; David remembered now. The Immari had drugged her during her interrogation. She remembered very little from his rescue of her and their escape.

  “What did you do with it?” she asked.

  “The boat? Gave it to a Jakartan fisherman.” He smiled and looked away. “It was a good boat though.” At that moment, he wondered where the boat was, if Harto had taken his family from the main island of Java to one of thousands of smaller uninhabited islands in the Java Sea. They would have a chance there. Harto could fish, and his family could gather. The plague couldn’t touch them there, and the Immari wouldn’t come after a few people on a deserted island. The way the world was going, they could end up being the last people on earth. Maybe the world would be better off that way, if simple people inherited the earth and lived as humans had for ninety-nine percent of its history.

  “Where’d you learn boating? You just pick it up?”

  “From my father. He used to take me sailing when I was a kid.”

  “You talk to him much?”

  David
shifted awkwardly on the bed. “No. He died when I was young.”

  Kate opened her mouth to speak, but David cut her off. “Don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago. ’83. Lebanon. I was seven.”

  “The bombing at the Marine barracks?”

  David nodded. His eyes drifted over to the Immari uniform and to the silver oak leaf of a lieutenant colonel. “He was thirty-seven and already a lieutenant colonel. He might have made brigadier general or even higher. That was my dream as a kid. I had this image in my mind of standing in a Marine Corps uniform with a general’s star on my shoulder. It’s funny, I can still see the picture of myself that I held in my mind for so long. It’s amazing how clear your dreams are when you’re a kid and how complicated life gets after that. How a single ambition turns into a hundred desires and details—most of which are about what you want and who you want to be.”

  Kate took her eyes away from him, then turned in the bed and lay beside him, looking away.

  Was it her way of giving him space? David didn’t know, but he liked having her beside him, how her soft skin felt on his, her warm body heating the places where they touched.

  “The day of the funeral, my mother came home and placed the folded-up flag over the mantel. It sat there for the next twenty years, in a triangle-shaped dark wood case with a few too many coats of varnish and a glass door. Beside it she placed two pictures: a headshot of him in his uniform and a picture of them together, somewhere tropical, somewhere they were happy. The house was filled with people that day. They kept saying the same things. I went into the kitchen, got out the biggest black trash bag I could find and filled it with my toys—anything that was a soldier, a tank, or even remotely connected to the military. Then I went in my room and played Nintendo for about the next three years.”