“So, let me guess,” Nathan mumbled. “You went up there alone looking for me.”
“You bet I did.”
“Thanks…I think.”
“Mind telling me why you’re drunk?”
“Good question.”
“Don’t leave the house, okay? I’ll be home in two hours.”
The call ended and Nathan stared at the whiskey bottle. Blurry memories and images replayed in his mind…the roofless building near the Mt. Rushmore ruins, his father killing himself in front of Nathan’s eyes, the helicopter ride to a decontamination facility in the Montana Rockies.
Then the interrogation.
Drugs. Needles. Pain. Electric shocks down his spinal cord. His body thrashing and contorting in ways he’d never experienced. A cold metal chair in a dark room, his wrists and ankles bound. Bennie’s gut-wrenching screams in the adjacent room.
Hours later, two men with dark sunglasses returned him to his home, dragging him inside and tossing him on his bed. He vaguely recalled one of them opening a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, tipping his head back and filling his mouth. It spilled all over his face and shirt. He kept pouring. Over and over. The other bent over and smacked his cheek. “Sleep tight, Nathan. Remember…we're watching.”
Nathan rolled over and groaned, his head as heavy as a bowling ball. He wished he could forget the cold chair, the masked interrogator, the biting electricity surging through his back and body as he incorrectly answered questions about what he knew of his father’s mission, the missile, and who his father was working with.
He groaned in agony again, then fell back into a troubled slumber.
_____
Chairman Alkott wrapped up a call with one of his men.
The scene at the Rushmore ruins had been tidied up and Aidan’s belongings disposed of, including the molecular separator, his man reported. Alkott hadn’t yet notified Leland Kronemeyer of Aidan’s death. He dreaded the conversation ten times more than their previous ones.
How could this have happened?
Benjamin Hutchinson didn’t have a word to add about what transpired at the ruins, even with his granddaughter’s deportation paperwork shoved in his face. He’d been interrogated beyond his breaking point. Another round of shock torture would have stopped his heart, and there was no advantage in killing the old man. His dead body would lead authorities back to the Mt. Rushmore ruins, and from there, things would get even uglier.
The chairman activated the holographic drone footage and reviewed it for the hundredth time. Nine minutes of visuals were captured before the drone lost communication and crashed into the Black Hills. The electromagnetic field created from the discharge must have disrupted its transmitters. Twenty minutes later, the sky was black, and satellite imagery was worthless. Fifty minutes later, the hazmat crew was on the scene.
Those were the facts, but one thing frustrated him the most: He didn’t have Aidan Gallagher alive.
Alkott opened a desk drawer and pulled out Aidan’s wedding ring recovered from the site. He studied the engraving, then clenched his fingers tight around it. He went to toss it into the trashcan below the desk, but stopped.
Perhaps he shouldn’t. Leland might want it. It was evidence.
He sat the ring on the corner of his desk. At least with their leader out of the picture, the odds of Aidan’s team’s success was slim. The missile would launch as planned and would hit its target. After that, as far as Chairman Alkott was concerned, the dilemma was over. He could finally start focusing on his World Advisor campaign.
Leland Kronemeyer, on the other hand, was an active nuisance, but maybe the old bat could be convinced to accept second best. Some tax breaks perhaps, after Alkott was elected World Advisor.
His intercom beeped. It was the Director of Global Communications. Another egomaniac Alkott couldn’t wait to kick to the curb after the Ellis Three Crisis was over.
He patched his hologram through. The director’s pudgy frame filled the space in front of Alkott’s desk.
“What is it, Director?” Alkott grunted.
“My staff has sifted through the satellite feeds of the incident at the Rushmore Ruins. We erased the obvious data, but some of it might have slipped through the cracks. It’s difficult to tell.”
Alkott cursed. “What do you suggest?”
“I need an administrator override on all global communications.”
“For how long, Director? That could draw even more scrutiny on both of our agencies.”
“A twelve-hour lockout would give us the time we need to sweep all public and private feeds, and purge any incriminating data. Only you and I will have password clearance until Black Ghost is eliminated."
“Agreed. Do it now.”
“You need to create the new password, Chairman, considering your general distrust of my staff.”
Alkott rattled off a new password. A long string of numbers and symbols. “Are we through here, Director?”
The Director spun around and barked at a passing subordinate, then glared at Alkott. “Chairman, when exactly do you plan on launching that missile and putting an end to this charade? My staff has been blocking Black Ghost’s communications with Earth for nearly six months. Concealing the spacecraft’s identity requires nonstop monitoring of hundreds of satellite feeds.”
Alkott felt his blood pressure soar. He breathed deep and smiled. “You and your agency will continue to do as ordered, or else,” he said calmly. “Am I clear, Director?”
His round face reddened. “Perfectly.”
22
Previously
Tyler pulled out a chair from the tiny steel table set for two. Jillian massaged her back and yawned as she sat down. A low hum emanated from the ceiling ducts of their living quarters, leading to an oxygen generator. According to Tyler, an underground river flowed nearby, and Elliot had learned how to mine the oxygen and keep himself alive a mile below the surface of Ellis Three. He had more than just survived down here for thirty-five years. At seventy-nine years old, he was in excellent health, probably due to the rich mineral content of the groundwater.
She planted her chin in her palms and followed Tyler’s every gesture as he poured water into her glass, then his. He’d never had a steady right hand, and she giggled as water splashed onto the table around his glass. None of this felt real. This place, her husband back in her life, his voice.
“How was your first night on that bed?” Tyler asked as he sat down across from her. “I built it myself in the lab—mattress, frame, blankets, everything.”
“It was okay, I guess.”
“Something wrong with your back?”
“Must be last night’s bad dream lingering.”
“Oh?”
“I dreamt I was restrained on a slab of concrete. I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. My back seemed tender when I awoke, and I think it still does. But when I touch it, I feel nothing. Strange.”
“Not strange at all,” Tyler said. “The mind is less distracted while you’re sleeping. Minor pains you don’t notice while you’re awake are amplified once your conscious mind is out of the picture. I had similar dreams after my crash eleven years ago.”
“That’s reassuring…I guess.”
Tyler caressed her arm. “Honey, you were folded in half before Elliot worked on you—it’s a marvel you’re alive. He made your body new again like he did mine, but you need time to fully recover. Be patient. We’ll get through this together.”
“Elliot sounds like a miracle worker.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, Jillian. The man’s come up with things that will blow your mind. He’s been down here in the Archives for thirty-five years, with all sorts of advanced technology at his disposal. Wait until you see what you’re about to get involved with.”
“When do I get to meet him?”
“Soon.” He stood. “Would you excuse me for a minute? I’d like to freshen up before breakfast.”
Jillian’s eyes followed as he grabbe
d a white jumpsuit from the closet and headed for the bathroom. He was so polite now, so mannerly, despite the long hair and beard. Not that he was a barbarian before, but maybe he’d had time to think, time to sand and polish the rough edges of his personality while his exterior fell by the wayside.
She scanned the room. Their living quarters were no luxury suite, but they weren’t a prison cell either. More like a windowless dorm equipped with the essentials. The walls and floor, and nearly every item in the room were metallic, except the bed covers, of course. The mattress was soft, at first, with a fluffy golden coverlet with tassels that seemed out of place. The vase of flowers on the table was a cozy touch. Tyler said they were a perennial native to the desert a mile above them. He and Elliot Gareth grew them in a lab, where they’d be doing their training.
This would be home for the next three months, Tyler told her last night with her head against his chest. The man she had spent last night with after eleven long years was undeniably Tyler. He told her he hadn’t moved on, and thought of her and Ashlyn constantly. Not that there was much for him to move on to, considering it had only been him and Elliot Gareth living out their days a mile below the surface of Ellis Three. There was so much more they needed to discuss, but she had dozed off in his arms.
After his spacecraft crashed eleven years ago due to a landing gear malfunction, Elliot had rescued him. He found Tyler crunched up in the cockpit, burns all over his body, nearly every bone shattered and every ligament twisted. He was the only crew member alive. Elliot brought him back to the Archives. He had monitored the crash with satellites and knew where and how to retrieve him.
Tyler told her that Elliot discovered the Archives thirty-five years ago and hadn’t left since. Rankcon Corporation had been threatened by his knowledge of the Barriers. After all, Elliot was the creator of the entire thing. Leland Kronemeyer suspected he had secret access to the Barrier system and wanted him out of the picture. At the time, Elliot could think of no better hiding place than Ellis Three.
Consequently, Tyler’s rescue came with a price: he could not return to or communicate with Earth—the risk of Rankcon discovering Elliot’s whereabouts was too great. Elliot was masterminding a plan that would change things on Earth forever, for the good of all. To sweeten the deal for Tyler, Elliot would allow him to see his wife again in exchange for his help. Tyler agreed. He would have died without Elliot’s assistance.
Jillian listened to Tyler hum in the bathroom as the water ran in the sink. He seemed so happy, more chipper than she’d ever remembered him being. Not that he was a cynical person before, but he never sang or hummed while he did things.
Her eyes widened as Tyler came out of the bathroom clean shaven. She had teased him last night about losing the mountain-man look if he expected to rub his chin against her skin again.
“How do I look?” he said as he approached the table.
“Like…”
“Like the husband you remember?”
“You knew I was kidding last night, right?”
“No you weren’t. Besides, it was time to do it. You’re here now. It’s not just Elliot and me anymore.”
He sat down across from her, placing a metallic container in the center of the table. A horrid, revolting aroma disrupted her stare as he opened the lid. He reached in with a spatula and plopped what looked like a yellow sausage patty onto her plate. He placed two on his plate.
She crinkled her nose. “What’s that?”
“Protein patties. Elliot makes them in the lab.”
“Smells like a dead animal. What’s in them?”
“Elliot extracts minerals from the ground, edible molds, grubs, earthworms, monosaccharides, things of the sort.”
“Things of the sort?”
“I don’t know all the ingredients, but I do know they’ve kept me and Elliot alive. Who am I to complain?”
“So, you’ve been chowing on these mystery moon pies for eleven years?”
“Sure.”
“And you’ve never wanted to know what’s in them?”
“Honestly, Jillian, I’d rather not know.” Tyler inhaled both of his patties, then downed a glass of water.
Jillian stared at the patty, absorbing the reality of the situation. Her food rations had burned up with Encounter Five and she would be surviving off these things for the next twelve weeks.
“Come on, Jillian, eat. We have a lot to cover today.”
“I guess if you could do it for eleven years, I can do it for three months.”
“You might even grow to love them,” he said with a grin.
She rolled her eyes and stuffed it into her mouth, trying not to gag. She chewed, then reached for her glass and washed the whole thing down with one swallow. The water tasted how clean water should taste, but it did little to lessen the musky aftertaste. Even the dehydrated rations on Encounter Five weren’t this frightening. Not even the chicken liver.
“Good,” Tyler said, standing. “Ready to find out what this mission is all about?”
“Absolutely.”
Jillian followed Tyler down a dark corridor lined with windowless steel doors. Plaques with large golden script hung beside the doors: Arts and Humanities Observatory; Achievements in Nuclear Technology; Lineage of Damien AI Prototypes; Advancements in Sentient Technology.
Bright light poured from a doorway at the end of the corridor. They entered and Jillian looked around. Aisles of server racks filled the room from floor to ceiling.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“It’s a mock mainframe of the McMurdo Barrier in Antarctica. This is what Elliot and I have been working on for eleven years, with the intent to train you and your crew. We’ll be spending the next twelve weeks here. We have much to review, and it’s going to be more challenging now that it’s only the two of us.”
He went to a table and held up a metallic object resembling a frisbee.
“What’s that?” Jillian asked.
“It’s a Barrier wave analyzer. It took Elliot months to design, and you’ll need it when we return to Earth…to complete the mission.”
Jillian continued exploring the room, noticing a set of cameras mounted near the ceiling. “What are the cameras for?”
“Elliot will be observing our training sessions—to gauge our progress.”
“When do I get to meet him?”
Tyler glanced at a camera, then back at her. “I need to be upfront with you, Jillian. Elliot doesn’t completely trust you yet. He needs to see you’re committed to the mission first.”
“Ah…I see.”
“Elliot’s become paranoid in his old age,” Tyler said, winking at a camera, “and for all he knows, Leland Kronemeyer sent you here to kill him. Come on, there’s something else I want to show you.”
They walked down another dark corridor and stopped at a wide steel door.
“You’re going to love this. Are you ready?” He spoke a voice command and the thick door rumbled and receded into the wall, revealing a massive hangar. The space lit up, and a black spacecraft shaped like a boomerang was parked near the center. “This is how we’re getting home.”
Jillian’s jaw dropped. “Who built this?”
“Humans did thousands of years ago,” Tyler said. “It’s been down here in the Archives ever since, and it’s in tip-top shape. This entire hangar is a spacecraft preservation chamber.”
Jillian looked at Tyler and tried to prepare herself for the response to her next question, the one she and every archeologist in the world had been asking since the first discovery of human remains on Ellis Three. Finally, the moment had arrived, and she wasn’t sure if she was even ready to know.
“You want to know how humans got to Ellis Three thousands of years ago, don’t you?” Tyler said.
“Of course, yes!”
“Any guesses?”
“Time travel?”
“Bingo,” he said, grinning. “The Fold will collapse in the future, just as Earth’s scientists theorize
d. According to the data I’ve uncovered in the Archives, a catastrophic disruption in space-time will occur at a future date as a convoy from Earth is passing through and entering Ellis Three’s orbit. This disruption will catapult that convoy three thousand years back into Ellis Three’s past. An alternate human civilization will begin and end on Ellis Three.”
“So all the theories are true,” Jillian said, eyes wide. “At what future date will the Fold collapse?”
“Come with me, I’ll debrief you.”
She followed Tyler as they navigated around the spacecraft’s massive wings. They entered a conference room on the opposite side of the hangar. Steel chairs surrounded a long oval table. He pulled out a chair for her, his smile warm and gentle, and his eyes brimming with youthful enthusiasm. She hadn’t seen her husband this energetic since their early years of marriage. She was slightly taken aback.
The lights in the room dimmed as she sat. Tyler stepped around to the opposite side and tapped on a device in the center of the table, activating a holographic projection. Two parallel timelines appeared and hovered above them. One was blue and designated as Earth’s timeline. The other line was red, denoting Ellis Three’s timeline.
“This gets a little complicated,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He pointed at the beginning marker on Earth’s timeline. “Sixty years ago the Fold appeared in the asteroid belt of Earth’s solar system. The data I’ve analyzed in the Ellis Three Archives have provided no clue as to how it got there. I think it’s safe to assume that the Fold is a space-time anomaly whose origins we’ll never understand.”
“Like gravity waves in space where no objects of mass exist?”
“Exactly.”
He pointed to the second marker on Earth’s timeline. “Forty-nine years ago, Earth’s sun suddenly started destabilizing, causing five decades of destructive solar flares.” He paused, his expression focused and confident. “The Archives contain three thousand years of human history on Ellis Three. Scientists here had three millennia to study the Fold. They even used their understanding of the Fold’s properties to invent methods of bending local space-time, giving militaries the capability of traveling thousands of miles across this planet’s surface in eight seconds. I’ve spent eleven years down here in the Archives sifting through the data, and I’ve only made a dent. The bad news is that humans here annihilated themselves with their own technology. The last humans died off around a thousand years ago.
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