The Prometheus Objective

Epilogue

“I don’t believe the missiles are going to launch.”

Everyone in the Stargate HQ situation room turned to the screen, patched into the War Room at the White House, where Xavier/Mason stood in his dark blue suit. He was no longer acting Commander in Chief but had been temporarily made General of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He had taken on himself the coordination of global recovery, leading a multi-national force to restore order and trust in the world’s institutions and governments.

It hadn’t been as difficult as Caleb would have thought. Not just because Xavier was a key component of the leadership, but because — while the world’s population had become psychic, the resulting change in perception had altered the global personality.

Hatred diminished, if only marginally. A bit more unity, understanding and respect grudgingly emerged. The forced exposure to the commonality of consciousness had brought the world’s disjointed factions a step closer to healing and bonded them in shared wonder.

Some truths were too hard to bury, but they were largely outweighed by positive perceptions of standing in others’ shoes and trudging through the pains of the world. But more importantly, the world had been drawn together by the commonest of emotions: fear.

Many, many had seen this very moment.

Had seen the wrath of comet Icarus, coming inextricably for its return date with their home planet.

They had seen this moment, most of those who had asked the important questions, who had overcome their petty immediate concerns and had learned to harness the gift during the brief time they owned it. They’d asked good, smart questions about the coming years and the threat they perceived, however dimly.

But most, unlike those in this room, hadn’t been skilled enough to ask the right question.

Those in this room did, and they all perceived it now. Here, after the shield had come down and the rest of the world clumsily went back to limited perceptions, these few continued to see.

As one, they sought an answer to the question posed. They drew. They sketched, they just meditated and mumbled or simply… perceived.

They saw Xavier in charge. In the War Room, but a changed one, occupied not just by the Joint Chiefs and advisors in U.S. uniforms, but by many designees from other nations. A conglomerate of powers all united against the incoming threat.

Poised to launch weapons enhanced and prepared over the past seven years.

All in expectation for this day; all according to the best minds and the most extensive computer simulations on timing and nuclear payloads. Disaster preparations had been made, shelters and relocation routes constructed. Coastal areas were evacuated, and food storehouses built up, with relief teams at the ready. The world stood united and prepared as never before.

Awaiting apocalypse or salvation.

Xavier followed the course of the comet on the great holographic screen over the table, and then, with the prayers and thoughts of everyone in the room and watching the televised event across the planet, he reached down and was about to press the launch button…

— When the screen flashed red.

“Sir,” came a disembodied voice from a speaker. “Hold, there’s something…”

And they all saw it on the holo-projector: a narrow, golden beam. Like a penlight, shooting out from the Moon…

It struck the incoming jagged comet…

…which promptly vanished.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Murmurs, then some fell to their knees in prayer while others raced for independent confirmation. Xavier held a hand to his head, then turned and faced the cameras, looking at the entire world…

Not at the world… but at Caleb and this team specifically. In his present, seven years from now, to the team gathered at the Stargate Headquarters, but also… knowingly now, to the group (himself included), seven years earlier…

At the Sodus lighthouse, where the team was meeting in the aftermath of the world returning to normal, in the aftermath of Antarctica, when they all had a chance to stop and breathe, and — not to leave anything to chance — to formulate a plan for Icarus.

“Did you see that?”

Xavier asked it then, and now, back in the present as they all pulled out of their trances. Papers and sketches around the table. Orlando had drawn the Moon on his tablet, surprisingly CGI-like artistic, with a beam indicating it had come from the dark side. It was the best of the artistic bunch, but not by much. Alexander and Phoebe had the comet exploding over the earth, with the lunar crescent lording over it. Xavier and Jacob spoke in lowered tones about the Moon’s death ray, and the fact that in seven years, unless something else happened, salvation was in the cards.

Victoria, Eric and Craig and other new recruits were seated around in comfortable couches and chairs, surrounded by their own creative output, and lots of food…

“Oh Lord,” said Caleb. He stood, on wobbly legs, considering all the graphic evidence, considering what he had just witnessed. “I’m guessing some of you just tried to view the source of that beam, as I have.”

“Had to know that would be a dead end,” said Xavier.

“A dead blue end,” Phoebe added.

“Yeah. Still, gave it a try,” Caleb turned his attention to Alexander. To Aria, beside him. To Jacob, frowning and studying the pictures with determination. The sight stirred something in him. Memories and pride. Hope.

He looked to Nina and met her eyes. Saw her smile. She knew what he was thinking. She took a step closer, and their hands found each other, and he felt her warmth and knew there would be time for many things in the next seven years.

Time for healing, for re-kindling. For grooming the next wave.

He glanced at Diana, her arms around Xavier’s waist.

For study and analysis. For missions and exploration.

He would always be a part of all that, but for now, he didn’t have to do any of it alone. Or even lead it. Others were ready.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said confidently. “And if not…”

Alexander looked up, as if on cue and it was his line. “If not, then that’s the fun of it anyway. Searching for the unknown.”

“It’s out there,” Caleb said, turning his attention back to the pictures, to the rough sketches and the shading of the sphere, representing everything that was hidden.

It was an invitation, almost as if saying…

Come on. We’re here. See if you can find us.

He smiled, a million questions in his mind.

Narrowing them down to the right ones would, as Alexander said, be fun.