Most of what we know about physics is traditionally based on the dual foundations of general relativity and quantum mechanics. But, as you know, both cannot be right as they are interpreted by their traditional followers; they cannot coexist as formulated. Some say there is a split: that general relativity is what makes things work on a large scale and quantum mechanics on a small scale but such a concept is ludicrous. Where would such a split occur? Is there a magic point in the size of objects at which the laws of physics change?”
“What about superstring theory?” Ahana asked. “The two theories can coexist in that.”
“True,” Nagoya agreed. The fact that Ahana was up to date on all the latest theories was another asset she brought to the program. “And string theory requires we rethink our concepts of time, space, and matter. It claimed that there are many more dimensions to our universe than what we see.”
Ahana held up her hand. “But so far, only at a very small level with Calabi-Yau spaces.”
“Which no one has seen and which have only been postulated with mathematical formulas,” Nagoya said, “Still, if we stop looking at the Earth as simply a three-dimensional object but accept that there might be much to it that we don’t see or understand yet, we might be able to understand there gates better.” He tapped the screen once more. “The muon emissions that come out of the gates last longer than our physics say they should. But are they really any different? Or is it our perception that is different?”
“Relativity.” Ahana saw what he was getting at. “The muons may well be behaving the same as those in a lab, it is just that we are seeing them act differently. That means that time is variable inside the gates and on the other side, as you noted.”
“That would explain the submarine Scorpion reappearing after thirty years and the crew not appearing a day older,” Nagoya said. “I think they were caught in a wormhole between gates. I think the gates are connected in an inner space where time is very much a variable.”
“I remember when Foreman tried high-frequency radio communications through the Angkor gate to the Bermuda Triangle gate back in the early seventies. He was able to make contact when the laws of physics said he shouldn’t have been able to. The HF had to travel through the gates as the waves could not have traveled around the planet. If we could get an idea of the constitution of the world beyond the gates, probe from one gate to another, it would give us valuable data.”
“We could send a muon emitter into a gate and see what happens,” Ahana suggested.
“An emitter and a receiver,” Nagoya said. “We have to see how the patterns intersect. Could you rig something like that?”
Ahana nodded. “Yes.”
“We would have to use the Devil’s Sea gate and the Chernobyl one.”
“But-” Ahana began.
“Yes?”
“The Chernobyl gate is hot. Anyone trying to go in there would receive a fatal dose.”
“All the gates are dangerous,” Nagoya noted. “Sacrifices have to be made in the name of progress.”
Ahana’s normally calm disposition gave way to an expression of shock, but if Nagoya noticed it, he said nothing.
* * *
Eric Dane stood on the platform that ringed the top of the derrick in the center of the ship, looking out past the Glomar Explorer below him to the open sea. There was a slight breeze, and the water was calm. The sun was coming up in the east, a glowing orange ball on the horizon foretelling good weather for the day.
The massive ship was idle in the middle of an empty sea. The huge derrick took up the entire center of the ship, towering over it. The Glomar had been built by Howard Hughes in 1973 ostensibly to mine the ocean floor for minerals. In reality, as Dane had learned, the ship was built for the CIA to try to recover the remains of a Russian submarine that sank in deep water under the code name Project Jennifer. The classified reason for this recovery was to get the cipher codes the sub used. Even that, though, was a cover story, Dane now knew.
The Russian submarine the Glomar went after had gone through the Devil’s Sea gate and disappeared for a week. What was on the other side of these gates was something Dane and others were still uncertain about, but there was no doubt there were very unfriendly forces over there in the form of the Shadow. To the consternation of those participating in Project Jennifer, they discovered that some of the nuclear weapons on board the Russian submarine were missing and, even more perplexing, they found bodies on board that were not Russian sailors. One was a Japanese man in his mid thirties, yet he had dental work that dated him to the beginning of the twentieth century. They also discovered that the Russians had sunk their own submarine when it reappeared.
Dane heard someone coming up the metal stairs, but he didn’t turn. He had sensed Ariana’s approach long before he heard her arrival. A new crew had been flown in by the Navy the previous day and pulled up Deeplab and the docked Deepflight. There was no sign of the original crew of the Glomar except for numerous blood trails, mainly centered around the well pool. More casualties to add to a list that was approaching a half million, Dane thought.
Iceland was now only a dozen or so active volcanoes poking above the surface of the North Atlantic. Puerto Rico was still trying to clean up the damage from the tsunami started by action coming out of the Bermuda Triangle gate that had slammed into its northern shore. The sub pens at Groton, Connecticut, were radioactive, and a large evacuation had taken place for miles around after the detonation of the nuclear power plant of the Scorpion. The attack submarine Seawolf was gone, with no trace of the wreckage, although the Navy was still looking for both it and the remains of the ballistic missile submarine Wyoming.
“Foreman wants us back in Washington,” Ariana Michelet said. “He says Nagoya has some interesting hypotheses about the nature of the gates he wants us to look at.” Ariana was a striking woman, the daughter of one of the richest men in the world. Dane had rescued her out of the Angkor gate after her research plane was brought down by the Shadow inside the gate.
“Can he keep them closed forever?” Dane asked.
“I don’t know. From what Foreman said — and he was being very guarded — Nagoya has an idea how the gates work.”
Dane didn’t turn. “Where are all the people?”
“What people?”
“From the ships and planes we saw in the graveyard? From Deeplab? From this ship?”
“On the other side,” Ariana said.
“And what does that mean?” Dane asked.
“We’ll have to go to Washington to see what Nagoya and Foreman have come up with,” Ariana said.
Dane shook his head. “The answer isn’t in Washington, and this isn’t over. All we did was repeat history. We stopped the gates, but they’ll expand again. Next time, I think we need to open the gates and take the war to the other side.”
Ariana placed a hand on Dane’s shoulder. Her father could be considered a modern-day Howard Hughes, one of the richest men in the world and the current owner of the Glomar. His covert relationship with Foreman, the CIA man who had been tracking the gates ever since losing his brother in one during World War II and watching Flight 19 disappear in the Bermuda Triangle gate in 1945, was an example of the devious way Foremen had had to operate for decades before the recent blatant attacks out of the gates had garnered the world’s attention.”
They stayed like that for a minute before she turned to go. “I’ll meet you at the helipad with Chelsea.”
Dane heard her go down the stairs. He stared out over the ocean, but what he was really seeing was a tall Viking warrior standing in the prow of his longship, a large ax in his hand. He remembered the message the Viking had etched into the side of the Scorpion.
“You will be revenged,” Dane whispered before following Ariana.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE PAST
79 A.D.
The Oracle of Delphi had been in the Corycian Cave for six days, refusing food and drinking only the pure water brought to her f
rom the Castilian Spring by her priestesses. She had not spoken a word in that time, and those who had traveled from near and far to Delphi to consult the oracle had been turned away. And there were many who had made the journey, as the portents were dark in many places. Even though Rome ruled the Mediterranean now, the influence of the Greeks and their beliefs was very strong. There were noble men and women from Rome waiting, even those from Persia and Kingdoms beyond the border of the empire. She had listened to the tales many brought before retiring to the cave, knowing that something serious was happening to the world. She isolated herself to listen to her inner voice, which could make contact with the gods.
On the morning of the seventh day, the oracle appeared at the mouth of the cave and spoke only two words to the priestess on duty: “The Defender.”
* * *
The young woman who climbed the path was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Her tanned skin glistened, and her short red hair was plastered to the top of her skull. She wore a pair of cloth trousers and a tunic with no sleeves, a dagger stuck in her belt and a pack on her back. She had broad shoulders and was tall, towering over the priestesses escorting her. Her face had broad cheekbones and a sharp nose separating blue eyes. The priestesses paused at the entrance to the cave and indicated for her to go in alone.
She entered and paused just inside, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. She saw the omphalos, the navel stone, deep blue in color, which sat in the center of the cave. On the other side, the oracle was on her stone throne, near the crevice that went to the very center of the Earth according to some.
“Priestess Kaia.” The old woman’s voice was very low but carried a sense of power.
Kaia knelt on the near side of the omphalos and bowed her head. “Yes, Oracle?”
The oracle tapped the stone of the throne. “I have been listening to the Earth and the gods. All your life you have been ready to take a journey, but I never told you why or where. I know where now, and I will tell you why.”
The oracle gestured for Kaia to sit. “I must tell you the truth, and then you must decide. You are a priestess, not like the girls who serve me here, but of the true bloodline. You are a Defender. You sense things others cannot and you have powers they cannot imagine. It is why you have been isolated all your life. You are my granddaughter.”
Kaia’s head snapped up at the last words. “Why was I never told?”
“It was never time.”
“And my mother?”
“She died giving birth to you.”
Kaia could sense the truth of what the oracle was saying, and she caught a brief glimpse of a woman — her mother — coming from the oracle’s mind. She did not have time to dwell on her sudden sense of loss as the oracle continued.
“Our line stretches back many, many years. And it is always the women that carry the pure blood. The men we choose to mate with are picked by the inner circle of oracles.”
“My mother—” Kaia began, but the oracle waved a hand.
“I do not have time to assuage your feelings or explain that which is not important right now to you. It was the will of the inner circle, and such will is our law. It has been that way since we were forced to separate and pretend to be something that we aren’t.”
A muscle rippled on Kaia’s jaw, but she forced herself to remain under control. What do I defend?” She asked.
“Everything. We are not from here. We came from a place called Thera. The island that is there now is just a fragment of the kingdom we once had. Before Thera, our people lived in Atlantis.”
Kaia shook her head, her anger still a knotted fist her chest. “Atlantis is a myth. I have read Plato and his writings — as you made me. According to Romans who read him now, it was a device he used to make a point.”
“Atlantis is where we came from,” the oracle said simple. “I assure you it was most real.”
Again, despite her anger, Kaia knew the oracle spoke the truth. “How was it destroyed?”
“It was destroyed by the Shadow.”
“What is this Shadow?”
“A darkness upon the Earth and in it. No one knows exactly what it is, but it is deadly to every living thing. At rare times, it appears and tries to expand to cover the world. Now is one of those times.”
Kaia’s mind brought back the image of her mother she had picked up from the oracle. She heard the oracle’s words, but from a distance. All her life she had wondered who her mother was and where she was. To be told she was dead and the oracle was her grandmother overwhelmed her.
“Pay attention!” The oracle’s words were accompanied by a sharp mental slap, wiping away the image and bringing Kaia back to the here and now. She was tempted to strike back in the same way, but a lifetime of training held her back.
“The Shadow,” the oracle repeated. “It manifests itself in two ways. One is inside the Earth. There is nothing we can do about it in the Earth where it brings forth fire and earthquakes. But the Shadow that comes on the planet’s surface in the form of what we call a gate that we can see, that we can fight. It appears as a darkness on the surface of the planet. Those who go into it don’t come back out.
“We have not seen a gate since Thera was destroyed. From Thera we went to Troy. The Helen of whom stories are told was of our line. After Troy was destroyed, we scattered once more, seeking sanctuary as oracles and priestesses. Always waiting, listening, and watching. And now the Shadow is coming once more. A gate has appeared.”
“Where?”
“To the north, beyond the borders of even the Romans. But the Earth is troubled in many places, and all will be affected.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You were told to be prepared for a mission, and now that time is here. But you have no idea of the scope and importance of what you must do. There is a shield that can stop the Shadow and close the gate. You are one part of the Shield.”
“How?”
“I cannot tell you that. The knowledge has been lost, but I know that you will find someone on your journey who can tell you. I also know that you need more than you have.” The oracle closed her eyes, and her voice changed. Kaia knew she was hearing the voice of one who had had a vision. She had had many herself, some while sleeping, some while awake.
“I see a staff with a blade on one end and a seven-headed snake on the other. Such a snake is called a Naga. You must find the Naga staff, as it is part of the Shield and it is also the only weapon useful against the emissaries of the Shadow. They are creatures who I have seen in visions passed down to me. With hard white skin and red eyes. They are called Valkyries. They can travel out of the gate for a limited amount of time.
“I have seen a man. A killer. He was a soldier but is no longer. You will need his help and military force to get to the gate and enter it.
“Some of the visions are from now, some are from the past through the bloodline.” The oracle paused, then continued, “But some are from times to come.
“You must go to Rome. Tell the emperor of the threat.” The oracle reached into her robe and pulled out a ring. “Given to my grandmother long ago. It will gain you an audience with the Emperor. Convincing him of the danger, that is another matter. You must keep your eyes open for signs. You have more power than you know. You would have taken my place if the Shadow had not come.”
“My mother-”Kaia began.
“Yes?”
“Where is she buried?”
“In the sacred grove.”
“I wish to see her grave before I leave.”
* * *
Steel on steel, the sound of mortal combat echoed off the stonewalls of the arena, rising above the screams of the bloodthirsty crowd. Forty thousand people lined the stands of Rome’s amphitheater, and they were on their feet, as the highlight of the first day of the games was under way, a fight to the death between local favorite Falco and four retiarii.
Falco was a mymillo, the most heavily armed type of gladiator, the name coming from the fish
symbol on his helmet. He had a breastplate, metal rings guarding his sword arm, a heavy shield in his right hand, and a sword in his left to complete his armament. The retiarius, or net men, were more lightly armed, each having just a net, trident, and dagger. They were also the only class of gladiator that did not wear a helmet. All four had light skin, prisoners from the northern territories, perhaps Britain.
A net flew, and Falco sidestepped, shoving it away with his shield, careful not to get the edge of the shield caught on it. The four men were working in pairs, two approaching, two waiting, trying to wear him down, waiting for him to make a fatal mistake.
Falco was a large man, as befitted a mymillo towering over the net men. His body was solidly muscled and covered with scars from former engagements. His skin was burned dark from the hours he spent training outdoors. His hair was clipped close to his skull and prematurely gray, a normal thing among those in his occupation. His most intriguing feature were his eyes, deep blue, which spoke of foreign blood.
As the man who had cast scuttled to recover his net, Falco bellowed and charged forward toward his partner. That man took a step backward, and Falco whirled toward the first man, slashing with his sword. He caught the first retiarius as he was gathering up the net. The man was good, blocking the blow with his trident and trying to rip the sword from Falco’s grip by twisting the haft, pinning the blade with forks. He might as well have been trying to move the arm of the statue of the emperor that gazed down from above the imperial box.
Falco’s arm not only didn’t move, he slid the sword down until the guard rested on the base of the trident, then thrust upward with his shield, the metal edge catching the retiarius under the chin, smashing into his jaw and lifting the smaller man off his feet. Falco was still going with the flow of the blow, turning, knowing what was coming even before he saw it, that the second retiarius was casting, trying to catch from behind. He still had the first man hanging on the edge of his shield, and as he completed the turn, he heaved with all his strength, tossing the body at the net. The man went down in a tumble.
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