The Cydonia Objective

1.

Caleb didn’t relax until they were over the Rocky Mountains and the majestic range loomed out the windows, presenting an imposing sight, rising tall and proud. Finding comfort in their strength, as if they offered protection from any pursuers, he leaned back, clutching the satchel to his chest as he exhaled.

On the seat across from him, Nina smiled. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him since they’d sat down, making him nervous. He wondered what those cat-like jade eyes were seeing. Was she regretting her decision to come with him, to turn against Calderon and their boys? And was she even sincere? That was the bigger question, and Caleb had spent the past six hours nervously looking over his shoulder.

Back in New York City, Caleb had called Phoebe and had their new friends provide transportation, a jet fueled and piloted by one of Temple’s trusted men. Despite fears of a last-minute assault on the runway, they took off and traveled quickly and without interruption.

Refusing to speak to her just yet, Caleb closed his eyes.

“Rest,” he heard her say. “You’ll need it.”

He gave a nod, but that was all. His mind was already drifting, losing its grip on reality, bumping and shifting visions with the turbulence.

A flash of city streets, mobbed with cheering people as a familiar man stands on a balcony, framed by huge red banners, displaying the Nazi swastika. He’s shouting, raising his fists defiantly to the churning clouds above, while down by his legs, out of sight, rests a narrow case, open, revealing a gleaming metallic shard inside.

Another rumble, the jet dipped.

Caleb’s eyes stayed closed. And dimly, he nudged his consciousness along… Show me what they were planning.

And the theater in his mind dissolved, replaced with: a vast tunnel, a yawning cavern. Frosted, gleaming with enormous icicles. A team of twenty men in parkas and heavy woolen hoods, brandishing flashlights as well as sub-machine guns, red armbands proudly displaying the same swastika. They advance slowly, toward a smooth wall with a similar design, much larger and carved with deep precision. The rectangular wall section is guarded by a pair of ram-headed sphinxes that stand crookedly on the uneven ground.

One man steps forward and unwraps something long and narrow from a cloth bundle.

“Our fuehrer will be pleased,” he whispers to the nearest man, who merely snorts.

“We don’t do this for him. But for us, for the true masters of this world.”

“You think they will notice us?”

“With the spear in our possession? They must. Everything we’ve learned, what the mystics told us… They’ve been seeking this, and now it is ours to offer up to them.”

The man with the lance nods, lowers his head and raises it up toward the door. “This then will be the key that opens their realm—their secrets—to us.”

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 her 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.

Wiping his hands on the front of his shirt, then on his pant legs, The Dove reached down under the right armrest. His fingers moved around, searching, searching. All the while, his attention didn’t leave Orlando.

Under the chair’s arm, he finally found it—a section of duct tape securing a .357 Magnum.

Inside the mountain.

The viewpoint magnifies, roars through crystalline tunnels. Gleaming walls of quartz and topaz, pillars of emerald, into a vast a chamber where the other colored orbs settle into alcoves, sparkle, fizzle, then fade into the surrounding shadows, revealing singular riders—robed, bald men and women who, heads bowed, retreat into tunnel-like structures.

Viewpoint shifts.

This orb’s parking space. After the light fades, a robed man (or woman?) exits. His/her bald head from behind is indeterminate, and the shadowy quartz walls do little to illuminate any features.

Follow.

In darkness, a long corridor, finally emerging into a chamber, plain walled…

Empty, but for a single machine. A reclining seat not unlike the one Orlando has just left, except more elaborate. More… comfortable. It’s on a track, a track leading forward into another glittering tunnel.

The figure moves to a wall, touches it and presses her (it’s definitely a her) forehead against the smooth quartz surface. As if activated by her mind, an image appears. It’s the Stargate complex interior. Phoebe and Temple are talking quietly in the main room.

Viewpoint changes: back to that lone chair. Moving in, closer.

Closer

Something out of place.

Something… left on the floor.

A piece of crumpled plastic. Lettering on the outside.

A wrapper.

With an unmistakable imprint.

“Twinkies!” Orlando shouted, his eyes flying open.

He leapt out of the chair—then froze, staring at the hefty gun gripped in the Dove’s unwavering hand, and pointed right at his heart.

The huge head shook slowly back and forth as beads of sweat fell unnoticed off the chin. The Dove made a clucking sound with his tongue.

“They said you were good, so I didn’t really have any choice.”

“You’re working with them?” Orlando was still trying to process everything. “They’ve taken you beyond the wall.”

“What can I say? Apparently I’m the chosen one.”

“Or the fool.” Orlando cleared his throat while inching ahead. “Or maybe the tool is more like it. What do they want you for?”

The head continued to shake. “Uh-huh. No, don’t think I’ll blab about it, not while others could snoop. Sorry, but you’ll die without answers.”

Orlando lunged just as the gun fired.

3.

Grand Princess Cruise Liner

“Room 2311,” Nina whispered, looking up from the terminal. They were in the business office, and Caleb stood by the door, nodding to passing guests, keeping an eye out for security—or suspicious parties.

“You sure?” he called back.

“Sure. Easy to hack into their reservation system. A lot of unsold rooms, bad economy and all, but this one’s the most out of the way, yet convenient to stairwells for an easy getaway.”

Caleb looked back and met her stone-cold eyes. “If there’s an abundance of rooms, we can each get one.” He smiled. “On different floors.”

Nina smiled back, a catlike grin. She picked up a card, swiped it on a nearby imprinter and held it up. “Sorry, darling. Only one key. And we’ve got to keep up appearances.” In a flash she was up, slipping her arm in his and leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Bring me back to our honeymoon suite, darling.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Honeymoon? Seriously?” His free hand tapped the object strapped to his ribs. “I’ve got the most powerful object, potentially, in the world under my shirt, and you want to–”

“I want to live,” Nina whispered. “Long enough for us to use that thing and save the damn world.” She tugged him toward the elevators. “Now, let’s move.”

In their suite, spacious as far as cruise accommodations went, Nina sprawled out on the bed, kicked off her shoes and pulled up a map on her smartphone.

“Okay, the next stop is at Juneau. We can charter a plane from there and–”

“No more planes,” Caleb said, groaning. He was at the desk, bent over the spear point. Two lamps trained their lights on its surface, and Caleb reverently lifted it, one side up at a time, studying the markings. Every nick and scratch, every line of etched markings.

“Fine,” Nina said. “Although parachuting out over HAARP would be a hell of a lot easier than the driving close and then having to ditch the vehicle and hoof it through the ice and snow.”

“Stealthy approach is what we need.”

“But we’ve got that. Surely—”

“Surely it can’t stop the whole arsenal available to such a heavily guarded installation.”

Nina shrugged. Turned over and arched her back in a long stretch. “Have it your way. I’m starting to think you just want to spend more time with me.”

Caleb gave her an acid stare.

“Come on,” Nina chided. “Now that you know we’ve created life? Brought not one, but two children into the world?”

Caleb stared at the spear, shaking his head.

“Come on,” Nina repeated. “I know that’s what did it for you and Lydia.”

Caleb’s eyes closed.

“She backstabbed you just as good and hard as I did, yet you took her back with open arms once she showed you pictures of little Alexander, the son you never knew you had.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?” She rolled onto her stomach now, then pivoted on the bed so she was facing him, chin cradled in her hands. “She was following orders from her Keeper father, following the rules. Playing you to get what they wanted. How was I any different?”

Caleb’s right hand settled on the lower edge of the spear; his fingers curled around it in a tight grasp and his lips trembled. He was about to turn when—

KNOCK.

They both froze, met each others’ eyes, then looked to the door. Another knock.

Nina was up in a flash, digging into her purse and retrieving her silver-plated Beretta. Finger to her lips, she approached the door. Caleb followed at a distance, the spear still in his shaking hand.

I don’t feel anything, he thought, imagining there should have been a magnetic sensation, a vibrational interface. Something like Frodo’s dagger glowing in the presence of goblins.

“What is it?” Nina called out, while eying the viewing hole.

From the other side of the door came a gruff young voice. “Delivery.”

Nina frowned, glancing back to Caleb, who was shaking his head. He whispered: “No one knew we were here, and this room was vacant. Don’t open it.”

But Nina was already unlocking the door. She slid the gun into her waistband behind her back and opened the door partway. Caleb saw the young man outside, dressed as a ship’s bellhop, holding a square box, which Nina promptly snatched out of his hands.

She dug into her pockets, but the bellhop backed away. “No need for a tip, just doing my job. And frankly, we’re all a little relieved down in the mail room.”

“What for?” she asked.

The bellhop looked around nervously. “Well, strange thing about this delivery…”

Caleb noticed now that the box was wrapped up tight with non-descript brown delivery paper, but covered excessively with yellow wrapping tape.

“…it was dropped off at our cruise director’s office three years ago. Addressed to this here room number, but—and here’s where it got really weird—instructions were that it wasn’t to be delivered until this date, which was, as I said—”

“Three years later,” Nina robotically answered. She gently shook the box, eyeing it from different angles.

“Yup,” said the bellhop, edging out of sight. “Apparently paid quite a sum for the instructions to be followed directly, and claimed he’d know if we didn’t do as he said. And he’d know if we opened the box.”

Nina looked at him. And the bellhop shifted back into view, eyeing the box, then Nina. “I uh, well… some of us, we wondered what’s in there. And well, the fact that this room only today got sold was weird enough, and well…”

Nina slammed the door on him. Locked it and turned around, facing Caleb. She hefted the box.

Caleb raised the spear. “Need a box cutter?”

They sat on the bed, the box between them.

“Is this smart?” Caleb asked, spear point poised over a seam.

“What, using a priceless ancient artifact to open a delivery box, or just the fact that we’re even considering opening it at all?

“Yes,” Caleb said, trying to be confidently humorless. “And you know as well as I, that we’re far too curious as to who sent this, and what it is.”

“Go ahead,” Nina said, nodding. “Although I think we can already guess as to who sent it.”

Caleb started sawing, gently slicing through tape and cardboard, freeing one side, then the next. “You’re thinking it’s from Montross.”

Nina smiled. “And if so, it can only mean that he saw something. Saw that—”

“We’d be here at this time.”

“And,” Nina continued as Caleb set down the spear, parted the cardboard and paper folds and reached inside with both hands, “that we’d need whatever it is that’s inside there.”

With some effort, Caleb lifted the object, just about the size of a bowling ball, and held it up to the light. Held it up so both he and Nina could admire its intricate gold and silver inlays, its detailed carved symbols unlike any language they’d ever seen.

He turned it around and around, open-mouthed until finally, he set it on the bed.

“Apparently it’s a wedding gift,” Nina said. “Otherwise, I have no idea.”

“I was wrong before,” Caleb whispered. “About the Spear being the most ancient, priceless artifact in the world. Hell, it doesn’t even fit that description for this room.”

“So you’re saying…?”

“Whatever this is, I glimpsed two things while I was holding it.”

Nina met his eyes, then suddenly reached forward and grasped his hand. Caleb moaned, fell forward towards her and suddenly her lips were there, pressing fiercely against his. His mind was rocked, his senses flattened. Something passed quickly from his mind to hers, and just as quick–the kiss, the connection–was severed.

She was on her feet, holding her head, shaking it.

“A ranch in Montana. A beat up old tractor hauling up the fossilized bones of a triceratops…” She rubbed her eyes, even as Caleb, through his reddened ones, watched her with begrudging admiration. “Men in suits taking away that… thing… that had been inside the dinosaur’s ribcage. Took it… to the Smithsonian…”

“Where,” Caleb said, continuing the vision, “it languished in the forbidden archives until one Xavier Montross conned a beautiful employee to grant him access.”

“He stole it,” Nina whispered. “And the girl… I’ve seen her before. Xavier’s never quite forgotten her.” A smile formed. “He still… loves her. This… Diana. Diana Montgomery.”

Caleb picked up the globe. “Yes, well that may be. But he’s done us one solid favor here. No one will find us now, no matter how hard they look.”

“Why? What does that thing do?”

Caleb looked up at her. “The Morpheus Initiative spent years searching for Montross after he disappeared from Alexandria, but could never find him. Not even a trace, despite having the best psychics in the world.”

Nina just gave him a blank stare until Caleb palmed the globe in his hand like a basketball.

“He’s given us a shield.”

4.

HAARP Facility – Gacona, Alaska

Alexander waited until his eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the control room before he allowed himself to take a breath. Whatever he was expecting, their entrance to the HAARP facility hadn’t been at all as he thought. It was rushed, just a quick ride down a descending ramp, past barbed wire fences beyond which the storming clouds obscured the sky and the mountains, leaving only glimpses of the sentinel-like radar arrays massed upon a field of unyielding ice.

The storm erupted just as they neared the facility, and Alexander had the impression that the station was alive, brimming with its own weather system, occluding itself with a mantle of impenetrable snow and ice. The winds swirled cyclonically, and the snowflakes seemed to be the size of baby rabbits, racing hell-bent around in a maelstrom.

And as much as the exterior was obscured, the interior was excessively bright. White walls, stainless steel doors and railings. Powerful lamps at every turn and glaring overhead bulbs seared at his eyes, eliciting smirks from his half-brothers, gliding ahead on their skateboards.

Isaac circled around and glided up on the other side of Alexander. “Don’t worry yourself about the tour,” he said in almost a gleeful whisper. “We won’t be here long enough to enjoy it, not us. Not you. Right, brother?”

Jacob’s skateboard slowed to a crawl, letting Alexander catch up. “Leave him be,” Jacob said. “Had a hard day, he has.”

“A hard couple of days, I’d say,” Isaac said. “Wandering in lost mausoleums and catacombs, getting shot at, avoiding deadly traps. Oh, and nearly buried alive under the ruins of the twice ruined Library of Alexandria!”

Alexander winced, looked down at his feet and clenched his fists.

“How tired you must be!” Isaac taunted, now from the other side, still riding circles around him. And even Jacob broke down, joining his twin in a little chuckle.

“Boys!” Calderon’s voice cut through the laughter. “Knock it off, we’re almost at the control room.”

“Just having a little fun, righto?”

Calderon leaned heavily on his cane, stamping it hard on the floor with every new step. And in his shadow, proceeding the two armed guards, Xavier Montross followed, head down. His red hair was in tangles over his face, still with the dust from the Cheops’ labyrinth trapped in the curls. He looked up once while Alexander glanced back, and they shared a mutual exchange: Hang in there, Montross seemed to say.

But when Alexander turned, he saw the two twins gliding together, making figure eights down around each other, across a huge circular floor and toward the waiting guards at a set of double steel reinforced doors, and his hopes fled.

This is it. And Alexandria was just the beginning. Montross is going to help them achieve his vision of the world’s destruction, and Dad –

He stopped, closed his eyes and focused. Drove his mind like a spike through time and space. Dad!

An arm on his shoulder pulled his vision away from a swirling pool of turquoise, complete blue in all directions. Alexander turned, and the hooded, owl-like eyes of Mason Calderon bored into his brain, and for a heart-stopping moment, Alexander feared Calderon could slip inside his mind and see what he himself couldn’t. That he could find Alexander’s father, and then it would all be over. His one, last chance. The only hope.

For all of us.

“What’d you go looking for, boy?”

Jacob and Isaac braked their skateboards, then kicked them up together, ending the ride. Alexander saw them out of the corner of his eye, but couldn’t pull away from Calderon’s gaze. “I…”

“Oh, leave him alone,” Montross’ voice came from the side, soft as a welcome breeze on a humid day. “Of course he’s looking for his father.”

Calderon blinked. “And? Did you see him?”

Alexander shook his head slowly. “Nope. I felt… blocked, like a wall was in the way.”

Something grumbled in Calderon’s throat. “Or a shield?” His eyes darted away, landing on Montross, who just shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Montross waved his hand toward the doors, and then pointed to the satchel over Calderon’s shoulder. “You have what you need. Caleb and Nina are too far away to be of consequence, your enemies cower in their tunnels, realizing there are no safe havens. The prophecy’s fulfillment is mere hours away.” He smiled broadly, stretching out his arms. “And you’ve got me at your side.”

Calderon thought for a moment, then gave a slight bow of his head. “True.” His grip loosened on Alexander’s shoulder, and a gentle push turned him around and sent him toward the doors.

“Inside, now. Time to see what this facility is truly capable of.”

Struggling to stay on his feet, still fighting the recurring splotches of blue walls in his mind’s vision, Alexander stumbled on ahead after his laughing brothers. Never feeling more alone, or lost. In a daze, he looked up, past the blinding lights, to a railing where armed military personnel patrolled the hallways outside the offices.

And for just a gleaming, hopeful moment, he thought he saw the afterimage of a woman, not unlike his mother, leaning over, smiling at him…

And he clung to that hope with all his strength. That maybe he wasn’t so alone after all.

Keeping an eye on Alexander, but feeling at least he was safe for now, Montross entered the control room and found it just as he had envisioned.

“Been here before, I take it?” Calderon was watching Montross’ reaction as the doors closed and the great chamber lit up.

“Never in the flesh.”

Montross let his eyes roam about, following the thousands of wires, ventilation tubes and piping snaking around the corners, connecting to various refrigerator-sized servers and computer banks. A glass-walled office overlooked the main floor, reached by a platform elevator.

“Of course,” Calderon said. “I assumed as much. And we never had the luxury of the Afghans and their Shield. Or, I presume, our friends in the revived Stargate Program, with theirs.”

Montross gave him a quick look, then continued his visual tour of the chamber. He took in the apexed ceiling, a hundred feet above, the sheer metal walls inclining to a point, leaving a gap straight above a device on the floor–a massive throne-like contraption that looked like it could fit a person after they had ascended the nine steps into the machine’s ‘seat’. The arm rests were enormous, and the one on the right supported a pedestal–with a slot wide enough to insert something the size of the Emerald Tablet.

“There it is,” Calderon whispered, leaning forward with both hands on his cane. At his back, the twins had gathered, at last showing some reverence. They had left their skateboards outside and now stood, heads bowed as if in prayer.

Isaac glanced sideways, first at Jacob, then past him and behind Montross, where Alexander seemed to be shrinking, trying to find a shadow. “Magnificent, eh brother?”

Jacob couldn’t help himself, he was grinning ear to ear. “Think we’ll get to try it out?”

“Could be fun,” Isaac said. “Me first though. I got me a list of cities I’d like to crush. Like Godzilla, Tokyo will be first. Then, I never liked Paris, so snotty. And…”

Alexander felt a lump in his throat. “No. This has to stop.”

Jacob shot him a confused glance, while Isaac merely chuckled. “The sad, motherless crow wants to fight destiny.”

“Not destiny,” Alexander said softly. “Insanity.”

Isaac took a step toward him, hands balling into fists. But Jacob was there in an instant, restraining his twin.

“Boys,” snapped Calderon. “Stand aside, and be quiet until you’re needed.”

After glaring at Alexander, who refused to back down, Isaac turned away and grumbled, “If we’re needed.”

“Now,” said Calderon, pivoting on his cane and facing Montross. “To work, my friend. We have an ancient enemy to eradicate. One that has slumbered too long in the glow of false superiority.”

Montross kept his attention on the central device, even as he noticed the workers above; through the windows, he could see them getting ready, industriously running about preparing the equipment and calibrating the arrays. “And just how do I fit in? And Alexander? The boys?”

Calderon gave a wolfish smile. “Alexander’s here just as insurance. So you don’t get any funny ideas of being a hero. My boys… well, if they’re needed, if you can’t do what we need, then they may step in.”

Montross gave a little laugh. “They didn’t do so well at Liberty Island, if I recall.”

Calderon shrugged. “They came through when needed at Cairo.”

“But Alexander succeeded first.” Montross sent an admiring look to his nephew, where the boy still looked hopeless and lost by himself, keeping his distance from the central machine.

“So let me guess,” Montross continued. “You need me to access the machine and interface with the Emerald Tablet and use its power to enhance this facility’s weaponry.”

“In a nutshell,” Calderon said, stroking his cane’s dragon tip. He pointed up at the windows. “First, my team is cracking the code, translating the instructions on the Tablet from the cipher we retrieved, thanks to Thoth and his box of secrets.”

Montross sighed, looking up at all that activity. “Then you’ll feed the instructions into the machine?”

Calderon shook his head. “Actually, I think we already know what needs to be done. You already know.”

“I do?” Montross didn’t. Sure, he had seen this facility, seen what the aftermath of this day would cause: the cataclysmic devastation, the eradication of all life on the planet, but he didn’t know how. Didn’t know exactly how the Tablet would be used. He stared at the machine, at the chair-like structure, suitably fitted to one individual and one Tablet.

Calderon watched his eyes. “You know. The Tablet has already worked on you. And on Alexander. You can separate from yourself. And it’s in that phase, and only in that phase, that the Tablet’s true power can be accessed. Tuned to your own astral body, melded and amplified.”

Montross nodded slowly, the truth settling in. “So in the spiritual form, someone sits in the chair, and releases the dogs of war. So to speak.”

“So to speak.” Calderon stretched his arms, and held the cane tight lengthwise. “And then we finish what the Dragon started.”

Montross thought for a moment, a hundred questions surging to be let out, but it was Alexander, coming up behind him, that spoke what was foremost on his mind. “What about Mars?”

Calderon rubbed the silver dragon’s head, tracing the jagged horns and scaled jaws. “It’s all about angles, my dear boy. All about angles.” And with that, he approached the machine.

Alexander watched the guy with the white lab coat step off the elevator and come running over to Mason Calderon. He whispered something into the senator’s ear, and then showed some numbers and figures on his handheld PDA, a stream of symbols and text.

Calderon nodded rapidly, and then patted the man on his shoulder before sending him back to the elevator. “Ready the array, Dr. Phelps. We’ll have a target shortly.”

Montross approached the chair. “I don’t know about you, but I have no idea how to work this yet. We’re not ready.”

“That’s all right. We have a test scenario first.”

Montross raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Alexander, then at the twins, who were smirking to themselves. “I can only guess.”

“Why guess?” Calderon asked. “Surely you can figure it out. Or Alexander can see it.”

“Your target?” Alexander shot back. “You mean the next place you want to destroy. More buildings to crush, people to kill?”

Isaac made a chuckling sound in his throat. “Just coming attractions.”

“Before the main event,” said Jacob, with a little less enthusiasm.

“We should have the actual coordinates momentarily from our feathered accomplice in the nest of our woefully under-matched adversaries.”

Montross perked up. “You’ve got a mole in Stargate?”

Calderon smiled. “We have followers everywhere. We could have struck and leveled them much earlier, but we’ve found it useful to have a viewpoint into our enemy’s activities.”

“Staying one step ahead,” Isaac said. “Righto, father?”

“Righto, as you say.” Calderon approached the back of the chair, where there was an LCD screen set on an angled post, and a keyboard. He tapped a few keys, grinning to himself. “Translation is done, my friends. And our scientists are working on calibrating the device, feeding in the new data. Simply… astounding.” His eyes rapidly skimmed over the data and the schematics, the formulae. “It’s all here!”

“Congratulations,” Montross said from the other side. His fingertips traced the armrests, caressing the smooth metal contours, all the way up to the rectangular slot for the Emerald Tablet. “So now you’ll have the power of the ancients.”

Calderon looked around the side. Met Montross’s eyes. “The power of Tiamat and Marduk.”

“The power of the universe.”

“You’re like me, Montross. You can’t pass up this chance. You were born special, and now you’ve been given a chance to rise above the mass of humanity. To become like Marduk, like Thoth even, if you must compare yourself to him.”

Montross closed his eyes. “A god.”

“Leave your body. Leave this world, travel to a new one.”

Montross’s eyes opened. “Mars?”

And Calderon smiled. “It’s all there, waiting for us. Where the ancients left it.”

Montross swooned. There was a flash in his mind—a desert of blue that suddenly cracked down the middle. Revealing: a glimpse of a monument in the sands, a giant face, and a tunnel-structure below it; a vast complex supported by reinforced pillars. Within the walls: flashing lights, tubes and wires, humming machinery.

He held his head, shaking it until Alexander came to his side. “Was it—?”

Montross kept his eyes on Calderon, who now appeared very interested. “Tell me, did you just get a look at our little secret?”

“I saw something down there below the Face. A facility.”

“The sacred texts are clear,” Calderon said, barely above a whisper. “The caretakers, just a few of them, remained after the War. Maintaining the banks of DNA, the memory tanks and flesh pods. When we need to be corporeal again, bodies will be ready for our arrival.”

Calderon had the Emerald Tablet out now, and its glow was fierce. Pulsing, bathing the three brothers in its light, making Montross giddy with anticipation.

“At first,” Calderon continued, “it was simply a safeguard. Redundancy in case something happened on the Earth. And there was a precedent, apparently. The meteor, what did in the dinosaurs…”

Montross nodded, but was barely listening. “It’s clear now. Wipe out the earth, get rid of the competition. Just like the Tower of Babel or the Flood.”

“Except we’ll do it right this time. And this time, we—the Gods now—will be reborn anew on the planet that is our birthright.”

“Yeah,” said Alexander, brazen now, “but then what? It’s a desert. No atmosphere, no water. No Fun.”

Isaac smirked at him and Jacob just licked his lips.

“Good question,” Montross said. “But I don’t think Mars is their ultimate destination.”

“True.” Calderon moved up, then placed the Emerald Tablet over the slot. “It’s just a bouncing off point. The stars await—the true birthplace of our race, and we will venture out there, immortal, timeless. Sending out our astral bodies, to which there are no time and space limitations. But first, there is something we must do. One more loose end.”

Isaac grinned. “About time. We strike at the lunar base.”

“The what?” Alexander asked.

“The far side of the moon,” Calderon answered as he lowered the tablet gently into the slot and the machine began to hum “Where the last remnants of Thoth’s guard have lingered. Just as a few of Marduk’s custodians stayed behind on Mars, so did Thoth leave his faithful on the lunar colony.”

“On the far side,” Montross whispered.

“Always with its face turned away from Earth,” Calderon said. “Protected from telescopes and other prying eyes.”

“And from your reach with the HAARP weapon.”

Calderon nodded, as he finished inserting the tablet. He stepped back. “But now that we know the formula we have the power to separate from matter and can travel to the Mars facility—”

Alexander got it first. “—Where you can aim from there and strike at the lunar base!”

Isaac jabbed his brother. “God, he’s slow. Must’ve been home-schooled.”

Alexander took a step back as the Emerald Tablet disappeared into the slot and the machine trembled, sending vibrations through the floor. Then, it started to glow.

His skin prickled, and he swooned as a shooting pain tore through his skull.

Just as quickly as it came on, the pain was gone.

And he was standing over his body.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my—

A flash of green light, then pain, and he was back.

Phew! Back inside.

On the floor, holding his head. Relieved to be back, but just as certain that he’d just been given an opportunity to save the day—

—and blown it.

5.

Mount Shasta

Phoebe raced out of the control center and rushed down the hall. She thought she’d get there first, but there was already an alarm sounding. Guards raced ahead of her, guns drawn. They took their positions on either side of the door.

“Orlando!” Phoebe shouted, just as Temple and Diana rounded the corner. “I saw a flash back there of a gun. Someone firing at him.”

“He was in the room?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. Could barely breathe.

They reached the door together, and when Temple tried it and found it locked, he nodded to the larger guard, who promptly entered an override code on the keypad, then threw the door open.

Phoebe pushed inside, wriggling in ahead of the guards, just slipping past Temple’s reach as he tried to hold her back.

“Orlando!” Emotions raging as she ran inside, her heart nearly gave out as soon as she saw him on the ground, face down beside the empty chair.

“Phoebe, wait!” Temple called, desperation in his voice. Dimly Phoebe thought he was trying to save her from the worst, but it was too late.

“Damn it, Orlando, don’t you be dead, don’t die on me here.” She dropped to her knees beside him, hands shaking. Touched his shoulder, squeezed it. Then, reached for a pulse.

“I’m sorry,” Temple whispered, even as his men spread out, searching the room.

“Sir!” one of them called. “A section of the wall here—it’s gone!”

Phoebe whimpered as she touched Orlando’s neck. Her fingers shook so badly she couldn’t tell if he had a pulse or not. Instead, she smoothed back his hair, leaned down and gave him a kiss. Works in the Disney movies, she thought. She bent down. Closed her eyes, heard scrambling feet, men rushing out the room through the newly-discovered exit. She caught a strange but familiar smell: of a cavern underground and a fresh stream, clear and pure air.

Ready to feel his cold skin against her lips, instead she gasped as, with a grunt and a rush of motion, Orlando turned and sat up.

“Where’d they go!?”

Phoebe opened her eyes and as she grabbed Orlando’s shoulders she scanned his chest, looking for blood stains and bullet holes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Now where’s the Dove?” Orlando stood up, taking great heaving breaths as his head whipped about in confusion. He caught sight of Temple, at the strange, arched doorway that had materialized at the side wall beside the view screen. The edges of the arch looked as though they’d been cauterized, blasted through the metal and concrete and seared right through the bedrock into the waiting tunnel.

Temple cleared his throat. “Good to see you still up and about, soldier. Now, before we go blundering in after the Dove, why don’t you tell us what happened here?

Orlando scratched his head, and only now noticed Phoebe gaping at him with a mix of relief and anger. “Wait, are those tears?”

“Shut up.” She wiped at her eyes. “Saw you get shot, so if you’re from Krypton you better start explaining.”

Orlando swallowed hard. “All right, but I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”

“You kidding?” Temple asked. “After what you guys have been through, what we’ve seen? About the only thing I don’t believe in is the Tooth Fairy. But even that, I remain open-minded about.”

“The Dove had me scanning Mars, looking for an end-around to the shield that’s blocking us up there around the Cydonia region.”

Phoebe looked closer at him. “And you got it, didn’t you?”

Orlando grinned sheepishly. “I got something. I questioned whether I could view someone or something else who knew what was up there. And I saw him.”

“The Tooth Fairy?”

“The Dove.”

“So he knew,” Temple said through gritted teeth, drawing the conclusion ahead of Orlando’s schedule. “Son of a bitch.”

“Knew, and apparently had been dealing with your friends behind the door.”

“What?!” Both Phoebe and Temple said it at once.

“Yeah,” Orlando said hurriedly, as he stepped over to the chair and picked up a Twinkie. “Breakfast of champions. Saw a wrapper in my vision, inside Mt. Shasta. I followed one of those glowing orb-UFO-like deals inside.”

“Foo fighters, we call ’em,” Temple said. “Track ’em sporadically, couple times a year they come out, but they never make contact, and before we can engage, they’re either gone or back in the mountain.”

Orlando nodded. “Anyway, I saw another one of these chairs. The Dove’s been down there, a special guest apparently. That’s when I came out of the vision, and that’s when he pulled a gun and shot me.”

“I knew it!” Phoebe said, and again looked at his undamaged chest. “You are from Krypton.”

“No, but apparently the Dove overestimated his allies.”

“What do you mean? And hurry,” Temple urged. “My men are itching to go after him, and I’m itching to see what’s down this tunnel.”

“He shot me,” Orlando said, “but I don’t know how to describe it except to say that time just stopped. The bullet hung in the air a foot from my chest. I couldn’t move, I was stuck in mid lunge for the Dove, and he was frozen with this crap-eating grin on his big face as he pulled the trigger. But then…”

“Then,” Phoebe whispered, “you saw one of them. The Custodians.”

“Yeah, them.” Orlando took a deep breath. “A bald guy with deep black eyes. Unnerving as hell. His head was huge, and at first I thought, holy crap it’s an alien. But he was tall, and wore a brown robe like some Franciscan monk. And he moved. Damn, did he move. Fast and jerky, like in one spot then the next without even taking a step. Like stop-motion film. I noticed the wall, disintegrated. And then this bald dude with big black eyes like I said, he was there. Staring into the Dove’s eyes and shaking his head sadly.”

“Then what?” Temple said, still trying to hurry him.

“Then…” Orlando closed his eyes and shuddered. “And this is why there’s no hurry looking for the Dove.”

“Oh God,” Phoebe whispered, and then she saw it too:

The Custodian, from behind. Standing between Orlando and the Dove. First, he plucks the bullet from the air and flicks it with one motion of his finger, sending it sputtering across the room. Then he turns and lays his large palm with its long spindly fingers on the Dove’s forehead, covering his eyes. “We gave you insights, opened your mind. Chose you to be the messenger, but instead you traded our secrets to the Great Enemy and worse, you sold out your own kind. And somehow you thought your actions beyond our sight?” The great bald head shook, and—from another shifting viewpoint—the almond-sized eyes turned even darker.

“All those things we would allow, as you are a pure spirit of free will. But we cannot allow the death of this one by your hands. So now we must act.”

The hand moved back and the fingers turned inward slowly, as if squeezing a grapefruit, and formed a fist. And the Dove shook, rose off the floor in an outline of fire, then… imploded. His body was rent to shreds, but all self-contained in a central implosion that swallowed up his entire exploding bulk.

And then it was gone, and the Custodian turned. “You have work to do.” He placed a finger on Orlando’s forehead and said: “Resume.”

Phoebe took in a huge gulp of air and returned just as Orlando finished telling the story to Temple.

“… blew him right up in front of me. And then touched my forehead and told me to get back to work. Like I was some slacker.”

“Knows you too well,” Phoebe said. “But apparently they have plans for you too.”

“For both of us.”

Phoebe and Orlando stared at each other in wonder, until a returning guard yelled: “Nothing there! Ends in a solid rock wall.”

“Of course,” Temple said. “So what now?”

Just then, a tiny form entered the room from the hallway.

“Aria?” Phoebe said, immediately turning at the sound.

“Glad you’re okay, Orlando,” the Hummingbird said. But she was pale, shaking. And Diana appeared behind her momentarily, pushing the wheelchair with her father.

“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 rollercoaster, 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.

“How did you do that?” She whispered, then looked over to Orlando. “Did you see it?”

He nodded, just as the flashlight beam fanned back to them, highlighting Aria’s grim but determined expression.

“See what?” Temple asked as Diana moved around and took the beam from him, then turned it off. And their eyes immediately picked up the local lighting, soft and ambient, revealing a widening chamber, largely undamaged except for a few cracks in the ceiling and walls.

“Oh,” Temple said. “This.”

Aria nodded, still leading Phoebe and Orlando, heading toward a rounded marble staircase that ascended to a second level. “I’ve seen this before,” Orlando said. “It’s where the UFO-things returned from outside.”

Temple looked doubtful. “But they all left, hightailed it out of here.”

“They did,” Phoebe agreed, “but not all their crafts left with them.”

“There,” Diana pointed, toward the second alcove from the right on the upper level. Something multi-hued, transparent. And inside…

“Room for four?” Orlando wondered, but Diana was already running up the stairs, leading Temple and Aria.

“Let’s hope,” she called back. “And let’s hope I can figure out how to fly it!”

“If anyone can,” Temple said. “It’s you.”

Orlando was about to race up after them when Phoebe held him back. He stopped and saw that her attention was riveted on the side wall. “What is that? Artwork? A mural?”

“A map, I’d say” Phoebe’s eyes bounced around from the colored circles to the elliptical lines drawn around the center object—a bright orange sun.

“There’s Saturn,” Orlando said, pointed to a striped, ringed circle. “But what’s that symbol over the smaller dot next to it? And there, the same thing on other dots.”

“They’re moons, idiot.” Phoebe smiled, looking at them all, taking in the whole scope. She was aware of Aria on the second level, watching them with interest while Diana and Temple tinkered with the craft’s controls. She hoped they could gain some insight without psychic intervention, and in time. But for now, she was engrossed with the map.

“Tell me,” said Orlando, “it’s not another Pharos-like door. Some kind of devilish test or code to break.”

Phoebe shook her head, her eyes shining, even as the room shook again and dust fell on them. “No code. No test. Just a map.”

“Of what?”

“Look closer at the symbols on those moons, Orlando.” She stepped closer as well, just to be certain her theory was correct. “Oh, if I’m right, big brother is going to be so jealous I figured this out without him.”

Orlando grinned, then peered closer under the ringed planet. “So, if I remember my astronomy class, this would be Saturn’s largest moon. Almost the size of the Earth itself. Titan.” Looked even closer, and brushed away some dust from the raised symbol. “A book?”

Phoebe nodded, tracing the same symbol not only on the Earth itself, but on its satellite. Specifically on the shaded side. “Wisdom,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

“What does it mean?” Orlando frowned. He noted the book symbol elsewhere. “It’s also on Pluto’s moon. What was that one, Charon? And here, closer, on Phobos, for Mars.”

“And look out beyond Pluto,” Phoebe said. “At the edge of the wall.”

“Another one?” Orlando scampered there, then looked back on the five feet of emptiness, just black tiles. “What the hell’s out here? And this is one big ass book, twice as large as the others. And it’s just one dark planet.”

Phoebe shook her head slowly, still staring at the Earth and the Moon. “I can only guess about that, but for those closer to home, I’d say everything is a learning plan.”

“A what?”

Another rumble, and the floor cracked. The stairway split and three steps crumbled.

“Hurry, people!” Temple shouted. “Get up here.”

“Not ready yet!” Diana yelled back, sounding like she was in a tight position, perhaps trying to jump start the craft.

“On our way!” Orlando yelled, glancing at Phoebe. “We are, aren’t we?”

Phoebe nodded, giving the map a long last look, memorizing it. “We are.”

“Learning plan?” Orlando said as they ran for the stairs.

“Libraries,” she said. “It has to be. Repositories of wisdom, starting with the one on Earth.”

“In the Pharos Vault.”

“Originally, yes.” They gingerly took the steps, careful where they placed their feet. “And maybe the others are similar, just copies of everything we—our ancestors—once knew.”

“Ancestors, or aliens?”

“Half-dozen of one, six of the other.”

“Okay,” Orlando said, jumping over a gap, then helping Phoebe. “I guess. But you think it’s more?”

“Just by the sequence and distance.” She caught her breath before the second level. “I’m sure the other lunar locations—probably well-fortified like the Pharos—contain similar wisdom so that if anything should happen on Earth…”

“Like what happened to the dinosaurs.”

“Right, then if there were time and some of humanity made it out safely, they could start again.”

“But on another planet or moon? Without oxygen, or hell, even an atmosphere?”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Diana’s voice interrupted Phoebe’s response. They approached the end of the walkway where Diana was standing beside Temple, just behind the spherical violet field. Behind them, rounded seating zones, capable of holding a dozen of them.

“Tell them on the way,” Temple snapped, motioning Phoebe and Orlando inside. But it wasn’t until Aria ran through the sparkling field and grabbed their hands that they overcame their fear and passed through, inside the UFO.

“It tickles,” Orlando said, and then he was through and taking a seat beside Phoebe, next to Aria.

“No seat belts?” Phoebe asked, but Diana only shrugged as she stood in front of a pedestal and what looked like a flat podium-style presenter.

“That’ll be the least of my violations, right after driving one of these without a license. Or a clue.”

The mountain rumbled again, the floor pitched and gave way, cracking into chunks that fell out of sight. But the sphere remained, even as the rocks crumbled around them, bouncing off the field.

“If you’re going to try something,” Temple urged, “now would be a good time.”

Aria sighed, leaning against Orlando. She looked down and whispered, “Goodbye, Daddy.”

And Diana touched something on the screen, then sent her index finger sliding outward against the surface.

The craft moved instantly, and lurched them all forward, through the disintegrating layers of rock—

—and out into the night sky.

While behind them, the mountainside fell in chunks, pulverized and blasted outward by an invisible drill that bore deeper and deeper, annihilating everything in its path.

“I can’t control it much longer,” Diana whispered, sweating, leaning over the screen.

“You’re doing great,” said Temple. “Just try to take us down.”

“Gently,” Orlando offered, gripping Phoebe and Aria a little too tightly.

“Yeah,” said Phoebe. “What he said. And then, when we land, how about telling us what you know, or think you know, about the lunar sites.”

“That whole ‘not exactly’ comment about oxygen up there.”

Temple made a throaty sound. “I can answer that. What she means is that there have been reports, scientific analysis of trace oxygen levels given off on the Moon and on Mars and Phobos, around certain locations, that indicate the venting of breathable air. Somewhere down there. Most likely a contained facility, a habitat structure.”

“Damn,” Orlando said. “So…”

“So that’s what they’re planning,” Phoebe said, eyes wide. “Calderon and his Marduk cult. Destroy the earth, but save themselves by jumping to the next station. A community all ready for them.”

“And all the wisdom they’d need to keep going.”

“And build on that knowledge,” Phoebe said. “That’s what I suspect. That, as you get farther out in the solar system, you’re rewarded for your skill in reaching those places by receiving better information, more knowledge.”

Orlando closed his eyes, seeing that last dark planet and the huge book. “Until the ultimate prize.”

She nodded just as her stomach did a back flip and they dropped precipitously fast.

“Sorry!” Diana yelled over Aria’s cry of surprise, which then turned to a giggle as she realized they were on the ground, and the sphere was rolling around them, yet keeping them upright inside it.

“Stop, stop,” Diana hissed, sliding her finger backwards repeatedly. “Brake?”

Finally, they ground to a stop, lurching against one another. Diana tapped a section of the pad.

And the sphere vanished and she fell out on the soft earth in the middle of a pine forest. Behind them, trees were smoking, scattered in their wake.

Phoebe glanced back, gasping at the shadowy, stooped form of Mt. Shasta, looking grotesquely mutated, half-formed and still losing cohesion. The sound was building, near deafening. So much so that she didn’t hear Orlando crying out until several moments later.

And then, it was just to hear a recap of his vision.

“The shield! It’s gone!”

“What shield?” Temple asked, righting himself from the dirt. His voice was barely audible.

“Mars!” Orlando yelled. “The Martian shield is gone. Well, not yet, but it’s their whole facility… bodies in tanks. Robotic-looking caretakers.” His wide eyes fixed on Phoebe. “It’s being attacked!”

“What? Who’s doing it?” Temple yelled over the rumbling destruction, even as a cloud of dust rolling from the mountain obscured the stars and the bright red speck of light in the eastern sky.

Orlando shook his head, but Aria started clapping.

She fixed her bright blue eyes on Temple, then on Diana, and smiled.

9.

HAARP

As Calderon stood up and smugly left the chamber, his work done and Stargate destroyed, Alexander briefly shut his eyes and tried to picture his father.

Repelled by an undulating, unscalable wall of blue, more powerful and unyielding than anything he had encountered before, Alexander withdrew, feeling like he bounced off entirely. And landed—

Inside of a huge snow-capped mountain, Phoebe and Orlando race into what looks like a floating globe, then soar outside in an exhilarating rush before half the mountain collapses around them.

And then he returned, wiping the grin off his face just as Jacob noticed, and Isaac turned around sharply. “What do you think he saw, brother?”

Jacob shrugged. “A happy childhood memory?”

Isaac laughed. “Couldn’t have been happier than ours. What with the hunting, the remote-viewing, the killing.”

“Everything we ever wanted,” Jacob said glumly.

Alexander shook his head. “You aren’t my brothers. I don’t care anymore. You’re nothing like my father.”

“And you,” Isaac spat, “are too much like your mother.” He grinned and raised his hand for a high-five with Jacob, who let it hang there.

Alexander felt his blood boiling. Fists clenched, he was about to advance on Isaac when he saw the boy still carried the sword-cane in his other hand behind his back. And Alexander noted the body laying beside the chair. Montross, bleeding out still, his blood pooling onto the polished floor.

Bleeding. That means he’s still alive.

“Isaac. Jacob,” Calderon stepped between them. Reached over and held out his hand. “Ah, there it is. My cane, please.”

Isaac handed it over with a slight bow, never taking his eyes off Alexander.

Jacob cleared his throat sheepishly as he glanced up to the engineers. “So, is it over?”

Calderon spun his cane, keeping his eye on Alexander. “Why don’t you boys tell me? I know I brought the mountain down around those Stargate fools, but I don’t know if any are still alive under all that rubble.”

“Let’s get us a look-see then,” said Isaac. “Seems to be all we’re good for.”

Jacob managed a grin. “Found us our brother in Alexander, we did.”

“And wait a sec. Hold the phone, he never thanked us for that, did he?”

“Boys!” Calderon snapped. “Enough. Now we have to prepare. It’s time.”

Jacob and Isaac smiled and closed their eyes, their training kicking in. “Time,” they both whispered.

“Time to shed these skins. Leave our bodies and travel the path of the Great Ones to the Red Land…”

“…where we’ll be reborn,” Isaac and Jacob said in unison.

“…and from our new home, with new eyes, we’ll observe the death throes of this planet and imagine the suffering as the world is purged. First, I will follow the instructions on the Tablet, and I will let it guide me from this flesh and into the machine, where only pure matter can interact with the Emerald Tablet’s true form.”

Isaac clapped his hands slowly, picturing it.

“We’ll set the target as the earth’s very core, and send the scalar energy waves at a direct path through the pole…”

Calderon approached the device, about to retrieve the Emerald Tablet, when a call came in over the speakers from the techs upstairs. He glanced up, and two men in lab coats rushed out of the room and leaned over the railing.

“What is it now?” Calderon snapped. “You should be powering down and resetting the arrays before we—”

“But that’s it, sir. We can’t power down!”

“What?”

Alexander perked up. His attention turned to the chair-device, where for just a moment he thought he saw an outline, like an afterimage of Calderon sitting there.

Except, that wasn’t Calderon.

“We can’t power down! It’s not letting us, not responding.”

Same build and posture, but one thing different…

Calderon fumed. “Then what’s it doing?”

…red hair!

“It’s firing, Sir.”

Calderon fumed. Firing without my guidance? “All right, so it’s still blasting Mount Shasta. Just turn the damn thing off already, that’s taken care of.”

“It’s not aimed at Mount Shasta anymore.”

Swearing, Calderon started toward the chair. I can’t wait until we’re free of this damned world. Just a few more hours. “All right, then where is it aiming?”

The technicians looked at each other, whispering, then pointing back. One of them ran inside the control room as the other raised up a hand to wait.

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Calderon took another step toward the machine, which was still humming, still throwing off waves of photo luminescent energy, then stopped as one of the boys wasn’t standing still any longer.

Alexander had slipped by on the right, and was kneeling by Montross. Leaning over, whispering something as he tried to apply pressure to the stab wound.

Montross?

Calderon spun his head back around to the device, and for a glimmering instant, saw him: the flaming red hair, the shining blue eyes. Everything scintillating in an emerald radiance.

Montross! Sitting like an emperor on his throne. Like Loki after usurping Odin. Like Lucifer on the throne of Heaven, or just like Thoth, imagining he could usurp the rule of Marduk.

“Where is it aiming!?”

“Sir,” came the voice from above. “Nowhere right now. Just up in a straight line towards the east.” The tech’s voice cracked. “But in three hours and twelve minutes, after the scalar wave of destruction has traveled a distance of two hundred and fifty million miles…”

Calderon closed his eyes. “No.”

“…entering into the path, will be the planet Mars.”

“I assume,” Calderon said in a dull voice, “You’ve calculated the precise point on the surface that will be affected?”

“We have.” Another pause. “Cydonia.”

Throwing down his cane in frustration, Calderon dropped to his knees. Basking before the Emerald Tablet’s glow, he prepared himself.

“He’s got you,” Alexander whispered, glaring at him from his uncle’s side.

“Shut up.”

“Tricked you good.”

“Shut him up!” Calderon pointed and the guards moved in, past Isaac and Jacob, who were still standing, open-jawed, unsure of what just happened. “And if the dead man stirs, shoot him!”

“Father?” Isaac was at his side.

“Be quiet, and be ready. I’m going to stop the traitor. Beat him at his own game.”

“But has the pulse already fired?”

“Not long enough,” shouted the tech above. “Another thirty seconds and the power level of the scalar wave will be sufficient to penetrate the depth of the Cydonia installation, smash the barriers and reinforced supports, and—”

But Calderon had tuned him out. Or, more appropriately, he no longer had ears with which to hear.

He stood on gossamer legs, his form shimmering with plasma-like sparks.

Everything was as he had foreseen.

Freed from flesh, he was power.

Freed from all restrictions, he was invincible.

He was a god.

And his enemy sat before him, startled at his sudden appearance. And unable to extract himself from the machine. Unable to defend himself.

Thirty seconds, Calderon thought.

Plenty of time.

10.

Ten minutes earlier, while three F-16 Fighting Falcons roared overhead, dispatched from Eielson Air Force Base, the Jeep Cherokee rammed through the chain wire fence at the southwest edge of the facility.

“Think it’ll work?” Caleb shouted over the tortured metal-on-metal collision that sent them rocketing off-road for a moment. The tires dug into the fresh snow, spun, then Nina got the Jeep back on the old service road and accelerated for the dimly-visible supply center, adjacent to the office buildings.

“Well, we heard the jets but I’m sure their security people picked them up on radar long before that. Their attention has got to be on the sky.”

“Temple said he ordered radio silence, too. So if they tried contact, they’d get nothing. Which would have to scare them a bit.”

“And the scalar weapon, I imagine, isn’t good for knocking out fast-moving aircraft, only motionless enemy sites.”

Caleb cringed, thinking about the Library of Alexandria, the devastation and loss of life, not to mention the original copies of all that wisdom.

As the snow and ice slapped the windshield, keeping the wipers working in hyperspeed, Nina shifted and threw caution out the window. “Wish our boys weren’t in there, otherwise we could have had them just level the damn place. Napalm it up.”

Caleb gripped the shrouded Spear in both hands, hefting it, feeling the rough rounded edge, just enough of a hilt-like handle, wishing he had a long staff to fit on it to truly make it a lance-like weapon instead of what it was now: a glorified dagger. He thought of his last vision, that of Alexander about to be attacked by Isaac.

“They’re hardly out of danger.”

“I know.” She shot him a quick look. “And I’m sorry. I wasn’t there, I didn’t know.”

“We’ll get there in time,” Caleb said, staring ahead, seeing the dark shape approaching. “We’ll get there.”

“Now that’s some confidence even I don’t have.” Nina slowed, seeing two smaller shapes peel away from the building. “Especially since we’ve got company.”

“Of course they’ve guarded the back.” Caleb unraveled the Spear point. “But they’re woefully unprepared.”

“No idea what’s going to hit them.”

The men, visible now in the brutal maelstrom, raised their guns.

Caleb responded, raising the Spear, pointing it at them through the windshield. “Confident or not, I have no idea how this works.”

Nina shrugged. “Then I’d suggest ducking.”

The windshield cracked just as Nina lowered her head and peeked around the steering wheel, aiming for the pair of defenders. But Caleb merely sat still, Spear held out before him like a narrow shield. Two more cracks in the windshield. A bullet whizzed past and then—SLAM—one of the guards went flying over the roof, while the other just managed to dodge out of the way.

“No chance to shut him up,” Nina said, sitting upright. “They know we’re here, but with any luck, they think we’ve got a whole army with us to go along with the air support. We’ve still got some element of surprise and distraction. Time to use it.”

The Jeep picked up speed as the building loomed in their view. Two double doors were no match for the head on greeting they provided at eighty miles an hour. The Jeep smashed through a metal railing and launched down into the warehouse floor. It slid and then Nina braked hard and spun it in a one-eighty, slamming Caleb’s side into two more astonished guards and pinning them against a rack of steel replacement girders.

One, still alive, managed to raise his MP5 and before Nina could recover and reach for her Beretta, he fired.

But Caleb was directly in his path. He instinctively held out the Spear tip and closed his eyes. Heard the gunshots, then what sounded like his own cut-off scream, but felt no pain.

“Holy crap,” came Nina’s voice. Caleb blinked and opened his eyes, registering the fate of the shooter: the MP5 had exploded as it fired, sending shrapnel backwards; his face was blackened and bloody, and the ruined gun fell from his limp fingers.

“I guess no instruction manual needed,” Nina commented as she unhooked her belt and withdrew her Beretta. “Now let’s move. Out my side, on three.”

Caleb looked past her, seeing several dark-clad forms running from shelter and hiding behind crates and piles of equipment.

She counted to three, kicked open the door and went out low, rolling, then shooting at two guards who came charging out of cover. By the time Caleb was out, she had fired three more times, and there were four bodies on the floor.

She ran to the edge of a stack of piping, aimed through it and fired again, taking out someone hiding on the other side. Reloading, she glanced back. “Move it, darling. Or else just stroll out there and draw their fire. We’ll see how well it protects you.”

Caleb crouched and moved to her side. “I think I’ll err on the side of caution for now.”

Nina shrugged. “You know, anything happens to you, I promise to take the Spear and do what has to be done.”

“I appreciate that. Just come back and give me a proper burial after you save the world.”

“No problem.”

Caleb winced as gunfire erupted from the back of the warehouse, and impacts ripped through the canisters and sparked off the floor. He looked to where the dead guard’s operable MP5 had fallen beside the broken one.

“Just the same, I’m adding to my arsenal.” He slid the spear point-down under his belt, hooking an edge, then scampered back for the weapon.

When he returned, keeping his head low in the barrage of incoming fire, Nina said: “You, a gun? Ever actually use one?”

“Yes.”

“Other than a BB gun?”

“Yes, one of these in fact.”

Nina gave him a disbelieving look after another burst of gunfire, which she answered. “And did you actually hit anything?”

Caleb peered around the edge, sighting. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“Oh just pull the trigger and aim that way.” She nodded to the left as she crouched and took off to the right.

Darting out of cover, he aimed and fired. A momentary panic as two black-clad guards stood up and leveled guns at him from twenty yards away, but then red splotches exploded on their foreheads and they went down, just as fast.

Caleb held down the trigger, struggling to maintain control against the recoil. He sent a long burst that took out lights, shattered crates and ricocheted off metal girders and frames. Two screams as the bullets punched through soft cover, and another as a guard took off and Caleb’s uncontrolled sweep happened to catch him in the shoulder.

Three more guard-soldiers ran out, charging him. Two fell to Nina’s expert marksmanship before they could take aim, the third ducked for cover. Caleb could hear him slinking around the side of a massive crate. He aimed for the far side, then saw a flash in his mind.

Behind his position: men had circled around outside. A team of six, guns drawn, running fast.

Crap! He thought. No time. He dropped to his knees, spun and let loose a screaming volley of fire out the open doors into the swirling snow that obscured the men running inside. All four, bunched together, caught the slugs square on and spun back, falling. One made it inside only a few steps before the last few rounds stopped his progress.

Now he’d hit something, Caleb thought. But he knew it was all for nothing. The last soldier, hiding behind the crate, would have sensed his opportunity. He’s out, aiming, and Nina’s not in position.

Caleb dropped the gun and reached for the spear the instant he heard the gunshot. He winced and dropped into a ball. The bullet sailed overhead, striking the pillar beside him. Then he turned, raising the Spear point as another gunshot went off. The Spear shook in his grasp, and then lit up as if struck by lightning. Electric charges crackled along its outline and darted outward.

The guard froze, so mesmerized by the light show that he didn’t see the sleek form pulling out of the shadows behind him; the figure that raised then lowered something at his head. A thwump and he went down, out cold.

“Quit screwing around,” Nina quipped. “We’re almost out of time. And reinforcements are coming.”

More bullets. More chunks of debris exploding around them. Caleb cringed and rushed to her side, where her back was up against a large section of concrete piping. “Do you have another option?”

She grinned as she leaned across him and squeezed off two shots. “Honey, you must know better than to ask that. Don’t forget, Montross obsessed about this facility for half his life. He and I went through a hundred different scenarios of how we could get in here. Studied every diagram, blueprint and schematic of this place. Someone takes a shit on level two, I can tell you which pipe flushes it out.”

Caleb made a face. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, anything that will actually help us?”

She fired again, then turned back around and shot straight ahead, seemingly at the wall. Sparks flew as the bullet impacted metal; then she grabbed Caleb’s arm. “Come on. Air duct, ventilation shaft 24B. It’ll take us right through to the central weaponry lab.”

She hauled him forward toward the broken grate that was now swinging open.

Caleb had to shake his head. “I’m suitably impressed.”

Just inside the grate, after closing it behind them and retreating into the shadows, Nina turned him around and planted a firm kiss on his lips.

This time he didn’t fight it, except a quick pullback to ask, “Now what? I have nothing else to show you.”

She locked her eyes on his. “No, but there’s something I’ve held back that you need to see.”

“Really, we don’t have the time.”

“Just take a sec.” And she pulled him close, closed her eyes and as soon as their lips touched, he saw it.

A jungle in Mexico, a touristy hacienda at the edge of a cliff overlooking a jungle of trees and vines. Inside: a young girl, auburn hair, green eyes, maybe nine years old. Sitting on a floor of blood amidst two decapitated bodies: a man and a woman. Staring, numb and unable to cry, as the two drug hitmen sling her parents’ heads into the bag and prepare the ransom letter.

A flash: and she’s escaping, darting out a window while one of the hitmen chokes on his own blood, a dinner knife stuck through his trachea. She runs…

…arriving at the American embassy the next morning, where she promptly draws them a map, and includes sketches not only of the remaining killer, but his boss. And the location of the drug kingpin’s hideout.

The DEA agents brought in to interview her ask how she got her information, if she ever left the hacienda, but she merely replies: “I just saw it.”

And then, after the operation concludes and the kingpin and his henchmen are dead, their supply confiscated, the agent makes a call. When he hangs up, he sees what the little girl has drawn now.

It’s the symbol of the CIA: the Eagle and the Star. Only, she wrote the word ‘Stargate’ underneath.

Smiling for the first time in a week, she asks when they’ll be flying back to Washington.

Caleb rocked out of the vision to find that the kiss had ended, and Nina, with but a somber nod back to him, was crawling ahead. “Now you know,” she whispered. “We’ve always had a lot more in common than you’d figured.”

Wordlessly, he followed.

11.

Alexander, crouching over Montross, trying to protect him from the two goons with guns pointed at his body, had few options left.

Calderon, kneeling on the floor, seemed to have gone into a trance; and for a moment it looked like something wispy, spectral and green passed out of his body, hurtling toward the chair where Alexander had seen that brief outline of Montross at the controls.

Then, he had to keep an eye on his ‘brothers’. Jacob and Isaac had taken up flanking positions on either side of Calderon, defending him. The sword-cane, previously at the senator’s knees, had been snapped up again by Isaac, who was glaring back at Alexander now, almost urging him to try something.

Helpless, Alexander turned toward the chair again, wishing he could see what was happening. Whatever it was, it had to happen soon. Calderon had been told he only had thirty seconds, or else their plan was finished.

At least knowing what question to ask, Alexander was poised to try to see if remote-viewing could see into the astral dimension; but his regular vision first snagged on an air vent at ground level twenty feet away. And his heart leapt in surprise.

Two faces inside, an unlikely pair. But definitely his father, a finger to his lips.

“Take out the guards,” Caleb whispered, pointing to the two over Montross.

“I could,” Nina said, “but there are six more at the back. In the shadows.”

Caleb looked. “Damn. Good eyes.” He sighed, watching his son, sizing up Jacob and Isaac, Montross bleeding and lying still; and then Calderon. And finally, the chair and the power unit.

The Emerald Tablet!

He closed his eyes and projected outward, willing to see…

Calderon was there, a blur like a green-tinged ghost. Arms out, reaching for Montross, sitting like a statue in the chair, like a man possessed or in a deep slumber. Xavier’s eyelids flickered and his lips moved as if voicing commands in an alien tongue.

Calderon launched himself and wrapped his hands around Montross’ throat. Sparks flew, the machine shuddered.

And Xavier’s mortal body rocked with convulsions just as his astral body thrashed under Calderon’s vicious assault.

“No time to wait,” Caleb shouted, kicking out the grate. “We’re going now!”

“Damn it!” Nina hissed, and her Beretta spat fire twice, knocking back both guards over Montross.

Staying in the grate was suicide, so she launched herself out, somersaulting and firing back toward the wall, even as shots came back at her.

But Caleb was there, holding the Spear aloft in both hands. Bullets slammed into something and for a moment a nearly invisible curved aperture appeared. The bullets struck and then evaporated like water droplets on a hot pan.

Caleb moved ahead and reached out for Alexander, to encase him in the shield as well. Nina’s shots apparently still went through from this side, as another grunt of pain sounded and another guard fell.

The machine continued to spark and rumble. The conduits shook, wires exploded. More guards appeared, now from above on the landing.

Caleb shouted out a warning, but too late. Nina had rolled to the side and from behind, a shot found its mark. She spun around, blood spurting from her thigh. On the ground, she aimed up, squeezed off two shots and then rolled around to fire two more at those at the bottom level. Behind her, two bodies slumped over the rail and hit the floor.

“Mom!” Jacob ran to her side, and for a moment, the gunfire stopped as the soldiers couldn’t get a clear shot. And in the respite, Caleb turned to the machine. Saw the slot on the right arm holding the Tablet.

Now or never.

He raised the spear. Briefly considered stabbing Calderon in the back, but apart from the moral disgust at the thought of attacking a defenseless human, no matter how evil, he knew the target was straight ahead. And he only had one shot at it.

Stepping around Calderon, he brought his arm back. Three steps, that was all, and strike!

But a chilling voice made him freeze.

“Stop or Alexander dies!”

Caleb turned, and saw the boy, Isaac, standing behind Alexander. Just like his vision. Isaac had him gripped by the hair, the sword tip of the cane pointed right at his son’s skull.

Montross gagged, choking for a breath. He never imagined such non-local sensations of agony could be experienced even without a body. Couldn’t even defend himself, couldn’t move his arms or else the procedure wouldn’t finish.

He was almost there. Interfacing with the machine had been surprisingly easy in this form. It was just as Calderon had expected. The Emerald Tablet was of both worlds and when he had ‘sat’ in the chair and reached through the slot, it fit like a glove. A glove that tightened and sent immediate sensations flooding through his consciousness. Numbers and equations, distances and measurements, a river of calculations. Weights and compositions of everything from massive stars to the smallest particle. It was too much, sifting through all the data. Took too long to focus, discard and graciously decline any more knowledge—things that he knew would be fleeting anyway, should he return to his body. Knowledge a physical brain just couldn’t retain and would only fade like the details of a complex dream.

So he focused. On Mars. On trajectories and lines of sight, traversing vast expanse of space, plotting a course, and then he focused on charging the power of this facility. Channeling it, building up the power levels.

It was taking too long. Taking all of his focus. He hadn’t even kept tabs on the players in the room, assuming no one could see him. Especially if they weren’t looking. His dying body was the perfect distraction.

And dying he was. He knew this here was a one way trip. Never imagined he’d be a martyr, but at the same time, he had also never seen a way to survive this day. Could he live with being the only one not to live through it?

So be it.

He thought fleetingly of Diana, and for a brief moment, he was back at the Grand Canyon, soaring over the sandstone monuments on a hang glider, with her clutching to his back in fear and excitement. And then he peeked in on her again, and there she was, piloting some unbelievable orb-like contraption, like something out of a Spielberg movie.

I’ll miss you.

He pulled his attention away momentarily, as the machine rumbled and throbbed and the arrays were charging. Glanced at his body. Alexander leaning over it, sobbing.

Then he focused again and his world turned green, blasted with more scrolling lines of data, binary codes and more formulaic text, symbols of every language, numbers and code, all whizzing past in a blur.

And the power multiplied exponentially.

And surged through the conduits and roared up through the thousands of arrays. Still building in intensity. Can’t release it all at once. Start small, then rising, each pulse a little stronger. Another minute, and the full strength will be reached. Full strength to pound the Cydonia surface. And goodbye escape route.

Sorry Calderon. Sorry—

But then the icy hands of the senator’s astral form locked around his throat, interrupting the sequence and jumbling the equations.

Montross struggled, resisting the option to remove the symbiotic connection to the Tablet. His viewpoint shifted from Calderon’s wild and crazed visage, to beyond: to see Isaac with a blade point an inch from Alexander’s skull; Nina on the floor, bleeding, and Caleb…

Caleb standing there, indecisive. In his hands, something glowing intensely bright. A long triangular object that shone like the sun emerging from an eclipse.

The Spear. The Lance. You’ve got it… Now use it!

Montross was fading, couldn’t hold it any longer.

The gambit’s failed. Cydonia will survive.

He wrenched his arm free, breaking the connection. Like ripping off a Band-Aid and losing your arm in the process.

But it doesn’t mean this son of a bitch gets to see it.

Montross swung his fist as hard as he could, sitting up at the same time for leverage.

Calderon rocked back and loosened his hold. Another punch came at him like a wrecking ball. He staggered, leaned forward and caught a blur of green descending from the chair just before an uppercut launched into his midriff and lifted him three feet in the air.

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 spread 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.”