The Prometheus Objective

14

Xavier took in the scene: Caleb and Phoebe silhouetted against the streaming shafts of purple light, like a royal couple from an ancient initiation ceremony, albeit in their sweats and loafers instead of gowns and crowns. It was elegant nonetheless, with the government agents and techs in a semi-circle around them.

He had seen enough on the screen — and at the pharma plant — to know the threat here. Anyone taking those meds, which had been prescribed the last few years in abundance for anything from depression to anxiety and sleep disorders, were susceptible to possession by… whoever the hell that was.

“Caleb!”

He turned from the shocking scene, and the mayhem and death in the bunker.

Jesus, did I start all that?

“You did it,” Caleb said in a faint voice, issuing confirmation, but also gratitude. “Stopped the launch.”

“At what cost?” Diana asked, stepping ahead. She still gripped his hand, and he wondered what she was seeing alongside any natural sights. Hopefully, if anything, something more soothing and endearing even.

He owed her so much. Sticking by him through his body-jumping, his other demands, and now this — peeking into his mind and reliving his darkest moments. And still, she held onto him without a flicker of doubt. He knew she wanted to know more, to probe his motivations and his past, to share into every dark nook and cranny, and to understand, but that could, and should all wait.

He stopped suddenly, checking the faces and the actions of all the others in the room — those here to protect them. “Are we sure about us?”

Phoebe held up a reassuring hand as she let her gaze go over each man and woman in the room. “As much as we can be. Edgerrin picked this group specifically from those who had some elements of psychic ability, his own secret Stargate-lite. And as far as my last scan, brief as it was, I didn’t see anyone else taking the drug.”

“I’ve ordered my men to watch out,” said a new voice. Xavier realized it came from the speaker, and then he saw on the screen — the bunker had become more active as Edgerrin Temple strode in, flanked by two black-clad SWAT types with helmets and guns drawn on the remaining cabinet members and agents. “Keep an eye on each other as well as outside threats. Until we sort this out.”

“I’m sorry,” Xavier said. “I couldn’t stay in that bastard’s body long enough to see it through.”

“He was in some kind of tank,” Diana said. “Breathing tube. But he was empty, left his body to…”

“Occupy anyone,” said Caleb, “with the medical marker. Including the President, unfortunately.”

“Damn doctors and their over-medicating everyone,” Phoebe quipped.

“Still,” Xavier said, thinking back to it. The rush of water, the total lack of feeling in his ‘body’, just a vague nebulous tingling that seemed to elicit separation of consciousness and at first resisted his entrance. But once inside, he regained muscular control as if operating a standing forklift. Awkwardly lifting ‘his’ arms. Grasping the tube and pulling…

“I think the body going into shock and almost drowning — it not only rocked my control but yielded to his for familiarity and self-preservation. It was different than with Calderon. There, he wasn’t in danger, he had just vacated the shell.” He sighed. “Again, I’m sorry, I knew I had to rock him back, not leave him stranded in another body.”

“Especially not that body,” said Edgerrin. “You did good work.” He looked around the room, going from body to body.

“The President’s clinging to life. The VP and Secretary of State are dead. No one else here is in any shape to lead. And besides, according to succession plans…”

Xavier swallowed hard. All eyes turned to him, including Caleb’s and Edgerrin’s.

“By the law of the land, specifically the 25th Amendment and the unprecedented situation we find ourselves in, with the need for someone clear-headed and in no danger of possession to step up…”

Don’t say it, don’t say it…

Diana clenched his hand harder as his mouth went dry and he had a sudden vision of himself standing at a podium, hand on a Bible…

“Xavier Montross, also known to the world as Secretary General Mason Calderon, you are now acting Commander in Chief and President of the United States.”

Caleb might have clapped, and someone somewhere coughed nervously, but Xavier had no pretensions of anything like celebration. Duty, however, and responsibility came fast, just as the agents in the room now backed toward him, flanking him protectively.

Diana let go grudgingly of his hand, and stepped away as an agent gave Xavier an earpiece and then held out a phone, recording as he was sworn in.

“First order of business,” Temple said after. “Access codes to NORAD and launch centers. We need to discuss a strike on the pharma plant.”

“No discussion needed,” Xavier said. “Take it out. Do it fast. We can give exact coordinates, but you need the bunker busters. The production facility is deep. And he… our enemy, whatever his name… is deeper still.”

“We may not get him, then. But we could seal him down there, and at least halt any further production of the pills. Are we sure that’s the only site?”

“We think so,” Phoebe said. “Based on our Stargate team’s analysis.”

“But even still,” Caleb said with a tone of defeat. “There’s so much product on the market already. And once word is out that it can dull the agony of these psychic onslaughts, rivals will start generic production. Break down the ingredients and mass produce it.”

“Ban the pill,” said Diana.

“Black market,” Caleb said. “It’ll still find its way into enough people’s hands that it won’t matter. With the Emerald Tablet, or the gem as I believe it truly is, and according to the ancient legends, he’ll start to be able to control not just individuals, but whole groups. Armies in fact. We won’t be able to trust anyone. He can make them turn on each other, on family and friends. Kill themselves even if he really aims to reduce the population for his sick plan.”

“Which is?” Xavier didn’t understand. He only had a glimpse of things down there in that control room. Of a map of changed borders and proposed technology to farm and transform the world. He remembered something in particular: a focus on construction at the south pole…

But understanding would all have to wait. For now, he was in control. Not that he wasn’t used to it, having climbed the political power ladder more and more lately since his ascension into Calderon; he had jump-started and bypassed all that nonsense about elections and fundraising and baby kissing.

He knew what had to be done. Still, no one had ever been prepared for this kind of crisis. Or multiple crises, and on so many fronts.

“How do we know he can’t just jump into other leaders?” Edgerrin asked. “Pakistan, Russia, the UK? There are other nuclear countries, launch centers to accomplish his same goals.”

“Maybe even target us,” Diana said, just above a terrified whisper.

“I’m not seeing it,” Phoebe said, fingers to her forehead. “But I may not be asking the right…”

“…questions,” Diana finished for her, somewhat smugly as if jumping on at last to the Stargate mantra. “Maybe this guy’s given up on that route, realizing our team can predict his moves, or anything that cataclysmic, and have time to stop it.”

“Let’s hope so,” Caleb said. “Although I’m not sure we could, entirely.”

“We’ve got missile defense systems,” Temple said. “Most still automated and online at the ready. Might be able to knock down eighty percent of attacks. Between that and your psychic precision, it’s not a bad bet to think if he didn’t get us with that first surprise maneuver just now, he may just proceed to whatever is Plan B.”

“Especially if we bomb the shit out of his home right now.”

“Missiles to go in two minutes,” Edgerrin confirmed, glancing back at a screen where two tech-types were busily keying in entries.

Xavier cleared his throat and straightened his shirt, tucking it in and trying to appear presidential. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m not seeing other attacks either, and usually I’m clued in. At least to my own potential demise.”

“So, what are you seeing?” Caleb asked, stepping away from the screen and toward him. “I also sensed that this adversary — the Man In Crimson, we’ll call him — is content to come back to population control later. His foremost aim is total knowledge. A download of the ultimate wisdom.”

“I don’t understand,” Diana said. “He just wants to be RainMan?”

“Not just him. He mentioned something about his ‘brethren’. Like a council of elders. An ancient group that apparently has access to hidden knowledge…”

“Great, another secret society.”

“Knowledge… or memories.” Caleb said the word with something like understanding.

“Memories?” Xavier asked. “Something like accessing other’s minds?”

“I think it’s more than that. I have to study this some more, but it may prove important.” He looked up at Xavier. “I had the sense we were dealing with someone a lot older than he appears, but maybe it’s not in the corporeal sense.”

“Okay, you get on that. What else can we do now to restore peace and stop the world from tearing itself apart?”

“Take down the shield?” Phoebe asked. “I mean, not to sound naïve, but isn’t it that simple?”

“Unfortunately not.” Caleb sighed. “Once up, it’s up, from everything I saw. The initial creation required focusing the earth’s energy through ley lines of power and amplified through sacred monuments and alignments. Those sites are like batteries, drained — at least for now, and served their purpose and need to recharge over millennia.”

“And now the shield is what, self-sustaining?”

“Gathering energy now from radiation in the upper atmosphere, from solar power and electro-magnetic ionosphere elements, I would theorize,” Diana said. “But I would want to access our satellites and study its actual makeup and structure. Maybe it would give some insight into how to disrupt it, which would then stop this…” She groaned and held her head.

“Yeah,” Edgerrin said from miles and miles away, finishing her sentence: “…This hell.”

“How are you managing?” Caleb asked him.

“Focus and discipline.” He made a face. “And it’s damn sure not easy. But we have a mission, and for now, I’m at your command, Montross-er, President Calderon.”

“Great.” Xavier thought for a moment. “Well, it seems we have a couple priorities. And Caleb, sorry but you have a few objectives right now, and better stay here to focus. First, get to that public address. Is YouTube working, Mr. Temple?”

“Web access is back up for now,” Temple said. “Although slow and very overloaded. Everybody and their mothers are posting live, ranting and questioning and coming up with theories and filming the violence and riots.”

Phoebe cleared her throat. “They know this is a watershed moment for the human race, and everyone’s trying to be a part of it.”

“Some are thinking it’s the Rapture or Second Coming. Religious groups going nuts with prophecy fulfilment babble. The Stock Market is on hold of course, but people don’t seem too concerned, at least about their money, for now.”

“Good,” Xavier said. “Don’t need an economic collapse on top of societal breakdown.” He sighed. “Okay, Caleb — need you to focus on Crimson Man. And his not-so-secret clan. They’re our next order of business.”

Caleb almost saluted, but then looked awkwardly away from Xavier, down to his shoes.

Interesting role change, Xavier thought, without Caleb being in charge of these missions for once.

“Phoebe, you already have your objectives.”

“Orlando, and our children. Just need to get to Alaska now.”

Xavier nodded, then turned to the screen. “Do we have transport out of here?”

Temple blinked and focused again, pulling his thoughts away from something far worse, Xavier was sure. “Rooftop chopper standing by, but there’s also an access tunnel under the building. Leads out to the street. Waiting Humvee there that can get you to JFK in twenty minutes. We have three planes standing ready.”

“With pilots that won’t try to kill us?”

“Hopefully not.”

“Okay then.” Xavier met Diana’s eyes. His vision roamed about the room, taking in the filtering indigo lights, the decorative symbols along the walls, the grandeur of the chamber amid the palpable sense of expectation.

This room now bore witness to the start of something new — or the last gasp of the old, he wasn’t yet sure which.

“Diana and I will follow Phoebe to the tunnels. Each take a plane. She’s going to Alaska, and we’re headed to DC. I’m guessing I need to be in that bunker, and need to have access to everything in there, as well as what I’m hoping you’ll tell me is a way to control the HAARP facility.”

Diana shot him a look, mirrored by Caleb.

Temple nodded.

“Good. I have a feeling we’ll need that.” He sighed, then looked up. “And don’t forget there’s also the matter of a comet coming our way, and a decision to make.”

“If we take down the shield, we’re vulnerable,” Diana said.

“More like, ‘toast’,” Phoebe countered.

“The planes will be ready,” Temple said. “But Caleb, you better do your live address thing soon. The riots are getting worse, and they’re storming Pennsylvania Avenue now. Not sure our barricades or limited forces will stop them, and then Mr. President, you’re not getting anywhere close.”

“I’ll start now,” Caleb said with trepidation in his voice.

Xavier had the feeling this was about to be one of the worst moments of his half-brother’s life. A burden he himself would never relish, but if anyone could do it, Caleb was that someone.

He let out a deep sigh, and for a moment, at least, the visions died down and let him breathe. His death was still coming, and if he peeked, it would take any number of gruesome or even non-descript guises, but for now he had his mission. His responsibility.

Diana took his hand as they walked out of the room, followed by Phoebe — after a brief hug with her brother — and then the agents came, escorting them to the elevator. Diana squeezed his hand, and he knew she was doing her best to forestall the mental anguish and the ‘sight’ that was like a light that could not be turned off, only dimmed.

He had her to protect as well as so many, many more.

And the only thing that gave him hope was that, unlike his deaths, this ascension to the highest office in the land was something he had never foreseen. So, if this had happened, maybe none of the other horrors would come to pass.

He held onto that optimism as he entered the elevator, descended and tried to clear his mind of anything but purpose.