The Cydonia Objective mi-3

by David Sakmyster

  “Didn’t you see it too? You’ve got to believe me. It was a long time ago, had to be. Only this pyramid and the Sphinx were there, but Egypt wasn’t a desert. There was a jungle, and—”

  “I believe you.” Caleb leaned forward, rubbing his head. “I don’t want to believe you, but I do. There have been a lot of crackpot theories about this site, this pyramid. I never gave much thought to some of the more outlandish ones, like that the Great Pyramid was an ancient power source, or a weapon used by extraterrestrial ‘gods’ in their own petty wars. But now…”

  “But now it doesn’t seem so… crackpotty.”

  Caleb smiled. “Nice word, Alexander. No it doesn’t, but I didn’t see all that. I saw something else, I was focused on the man.”

  “The Pharaoh guy? What about him?”

  “It seemed,” Caleb said, “he wasn’t really there.”

  Alexander blinked, trying to recall what he’d seen. The man sitting there, holding the tablet. All that heat and power passing into him, through him. “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Caleb said. “I think that was just his projection, whatever it is Montross learned how to do.”

  “And Grandpa.”

  Caleb nodded. “But somehow, while in that out of body phase, he could still touch the Emerald Tablet. Move it, insert it.”

  “Like I was able to move the lever under the Sphinx!” Alexander’s eyes shined with the memory.

  Caleb nodded as he shined the light into the groove, trying to see anything down there. “And that’s the key, I think. To what the Emerald Tablet can do. It interfaces with consciousness, or our souls, or something. One and the same and phased together with the spirit, the Tablet’s full power can be consciously controlled, wielded.”

  Alexander whistled. “So what did I see them attacking?”

  “I can’t say, yet. But I don’t think it helps us now. This… place. This facility is dormant. I can feel it. Even if we brought the Tablet down here, I think they—whoever they were—Thoth’s enemies maybe, dismantled the core. Maybe it was in some ancient war, something that turned this lush land into a desert. Whatever it was, this facility, this pyramid, is nothing now but a tomb. Our tomb, unless we can get out.”

  “Perhaps,” said a new voice. “I can be of assistance.”

  #

  Alexander spun around, fumbling with his light. Shining it this way and that, finally zeroing in on the presence: back at the passage entrance that led into this chamber. A lone figure stood there.

  It took him a moment to see that it was a woman. Someone in a long gray cloak. Actually, he realized, a sari. Draped over her shoulder and wrapped around her body. She had short hair, white, and her face was beautiful despite its age.

  “Easy,” Caleb whispered. “I think I know her, but how-?”

  “-Did I find you?” The woman approached, her own flashlight aimed down, a large maglite beam glinting off the solid floor and making it seem like she walked on a star. “I got a call from your very concerned sister.”

  “Phoebe!”

  “She was fine when I talked to her. In a helicopter, heading towards some mission for your American friends.”

  “What friends?” Alexander was rubbing his head, shining his light from the newcomer to his father.

  “Not important now,” said the woman as she took a moment to shine her light on the central apparatus, following the shaft upwards to where her more powerful light caught it merging with the precipitous ceiling. “I can’t believe it. This really exists.”

  “Who are you?” Alexander asked, but then his eyes adjusted, and he saw her more clearly, not as a ghostly goddess of the abyss, but as flesh and blood. He had seen her before, on rare occasions when all the Keepers would gather. When Lydia and Uncle Robert would send him off to play (or learn) in the upper levels of the Alexandrian Library while they met and decided the fate of the recovered scrolls. “You’re—”

  “Rashi Singh.” Caleb stood and bowed to her. “Keeper, this was too dangerous, you coming down here. And how did you even bypass the guards up there?”

  There was a gleam in her dark eyes as she spoke. “Herodotus. The lost chapters. Deliberately cut from his Histories, preserved and sent away, according to his notes, because the priests at Thebes demanded that what he had seen below the Pyramids be kept secret.”

  “I must not have seen that scroll,” Caleb said excitedly.

  “You were too busy,” Rashi replied, “apparently with your own secrets.”

  Caleb let that slide. “So Herodotus was down here. He had spoken of legends about a labyrinth.”

  “Hints, myths. The priests allowed such talk.”

  “So the lost chapter had a map?”

  Rashi pulled out an iPhone and turned it so Caleb and Alexander could see the screen, where there was a scanned image, a hand-drawn pyramid, and a series of tunnels and chambers sketched beneath it. “It did, one that showed several other exits, including the one at the Cairo Museum.”

  “Uncle Montross!” Alexander perked up.

  “I believe he’s been captured,” Rashi said quietly. “But you knew that already. I assumed he was your decoy, and you hoped to find one of the other exits.”

  “That was the plan,” Caleb said. “But first, this…” He motioned to the central chamber. “Did Herodotus mention what this was?”

  Rashi shook her head and raised the phone, scrolling over on the screen. “It’s drawn here, and Herodotus relates in his scrolls that he has heard only half-whispered legends, rumors that it might have been a place of defense, a way for the king to send his divine wrath against any adversary, anywhere on the earth. Or in the sky.”

  “A weapon,” Alexander whispered.

  The Keeper stared at the chamber, moving closer and stooping so she could look inside. “Herodotus claims even the priests had lost all wisdom about its true function, and any clues had now been transformed into unrelated ritual and half-remembered purpose.”

  Caleb nodded. “Then we’re done here. I assume you got in through the more distant entrance point. From what I had RV’d, it was northwest of the city, not far from the Nile.”

  “Yes. But come along quickly. Before they brave the traps to search for you. And before they once again try to RV you—and perhaps see us.”

  Alexander shifted. “Maybe they’ve already done it and they’re waiting by the exit like they were at the museum.”

  “Maybe,” Caleb said. “But hopefully they didn’t ask the right questions and only got that hit for Xavier. But you’re right, they’ll be trying again soon. I just hope Nina’s preoccupied and her kids… I mean our kids… aren’t that focused.”

  “We’ll have to take that risk,” Rashi said. “Now come on, I have a boat and a crew standing by to take you.”

  “To where?” Alexander asked, giving one last look to the chamber, imagining himself in there, sitting at the controls, with godlike power dancing from his finger tips.

  The Keeper smiled. “I have a feeling you’re going to need our help once more. We’re going to Alexandria.”

  8.

  They landed at the Bamian airstrip, one and a half miles from the town, and an armored convoy waited for them. A contingent of NATO forces, Marines and CIA operatives, almost forty men, armed to the teeth, gathered in their vehicles and took off as soon as Temple herded Orlando and Phoebe into the third jeep and gave the order.

  Looking pale as he slipped into a flak jacket two sizes too large for him, Orlando tried to sound jovial. “Just like Saigon, eh Phoebe?”

  “Knock it off with the Die Hard quotes,” she snapped as Temple helped her into her vest. “You weren’t even in diapers, much less junior high.”

  “Yeah, knock it off. We’re losing the element of surprise.” Temple pointed through the front windshield. The huge sandstone cliffs loomed ahead, pale blue in the pre-dawn shadows. Venus kissed the peak’s crown, then Phoebe watched the morning star disappear in the sand and dust from the lead jeep’s spitting tires. And
then the first glint of the sun’s rays touched the upper edges of the mountains.

  Phoebe craned her neck to see better. The western niche in the cliff was achingly empty. And far to its right, the other one, smaller but just as lonely. Already plans were being made by several archaeological preservation societies to rebuild the statues, but the region still wasn’t safe. Not yet.

  She looked ahead grimly and found her heart racing as they came to a sliding stop in a cloud of dust. To her left and right, the other members of the convoy were leaping out of their vehicles, rushing toward a cave entrance.

  “Let’s go,” Temple said, slipping on a helmet and fixing Phoebe’s, switching on the maglite at its center.

  Orlando held up his bare hands. “Where’s my gun?”

  “You’re just an observer,” Temple said, kicking open the door and leading them out. “If we get to the point where you need to shoot something, we’re already dead.”

  Orlando coughed as he jumped out with Phoebe, and the dust and the already stinging heat knocked him back. He staggered, but then Phoebe’s hand caught his, and he was running along with her and six NATO troops—or Marines—he couldn’t tell. Weapons drawn, scanning the cliff side, aiming at the darkened caves. Back at the lonely village tenements a few huddled forms appeared, watching with mild interest.

  Somewhere a rooster crowed, and up above, a pair of eagles circled hungrily.

  Phoebe paused, steadied herself and stared up at the giant cliff wall, the imposing deeply carved-out niche. And she closed her eyes. “Wait, I just want to see if I can—”

  “Not now,” Temple barked. “Satisfy your curiosity later.”

  “But, I can see who really built them!”

  “Later.” He dragged her forward. “The Hummingbird’s running out of time.”

  Orlando followed Phoebe’s wistful glance to the empty niche and the rubble of the once-proud statue. Then he chased after them. “I sure hope they haven’t RV’d us coming.”

  As they entered the first cave and took up positions, lining the initial cavern and the first part of the descending passage, Temple said: “Not likely, but we’re on our guard. Hopefully the fact that you only recently RV’d the boy and got us our approach plan, that changed the future sufficiently.”

  “I thought this Eye dude was just a shield,” Orlando said.

  Temple shook his head. “He’s what we’d call a well-rounded bastard. RV skills just like yours. He was searching for the Hummingbird, and we believe she knew it. She and her family were originally from Kabul, but they fled. Came here while she shielded their movements. Found a cave and tried to stay awake and hidden as long as she could. Probably had her parents try to keep her alert and focused. Coffee beans, whatever, but in the end she couldn’t last. Dozed off and the Eye zeroed in on her.”

  He pulled out an iPhone and Phoebe recognized Orlando’s map on it. A few others in the team had the same thing. Temple raised a fist, pointing ahead, and the lead team of four moved off silently, approaching the first of many mined-passageways Orlando had seen.

  “Here we go,” Temple whispered, and pushed them on ahead after the others had all descended into the depths of the ancient mountainside.

  “We’ll pause at two-minute intervals,” he said. “And give you two a chance to look ahead and see if anything’s changed.”

  “On it already,” Phoebe responded, touching her forehead under the helmet. “Multi-tasking.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Orlando glared at him.

  “Easy,” Phoebe whispered, reaching back to grasp his fingers.

  He smiled. “Sorry. Without your big brother around, I have to protect you.”

  “Oh? And what about you? Last I recall, you were the one getting your ass kicked by eels and needed me to save you.”

  “Fight about who loves who more later,” Temple hissed as they rounded a corner. He raised the phone, spoke something into his microphone, and two more soldiers rounded the right-most corner and doubled back, standing guard.

  “Through obstacle three,” came a voice over Temple’s headset. He ordered the team ahead, pushing them on. And then they were moving faster through a section relatively free of mines and traps. Orlando let go of Phoebe’s hand to adjust the light on his visor, and he ducked in several places as the cavern ceiling dipped. Seeing it in this viewpoint, from a higher angle than when he remote-viewed the village boy, left him disoriented.

  A few more twisting turns, a short, steep descent, then a sharp turn, and suddenly they all stopped as the lead members went to work disarming another trap.

  Temple turned around. “Okay, you two are up. Try RVing–” His eyes went wide. “Where’s Phoebe?”

  Orlando spun, reaching out into the shadows. His light probed the walls, the corners. He darted back and turned the corner.

  But she was gone.

  #

  As part of her multi-tasking, Phoebe was viewing the path ahead, and specifically trying to hone in on the Hummingbird. Hoping maybe the girl was still asleep, without her shield, but it wasn’t working.

  Nothing but a wall of blue greeted her when she thought about the child. A repelling force like a shockwave, more powerful than she’d ever felt before, like she’d been slapped away from snooping where she didn’t belong. She groaned, slipped behind the last tier of squad members who kept moving, following their PDAs.

  Hugging a wall and catching her breath, Phoebe finally shook her head and tried to follow the dark shadows and the flickering beams of light up ahead. But it seemed they’d sped up, the corridor lengthened, and no matter how fast she tried to move, she couldn’t close the distance. They rounded a corner and she was alone.

  Panicked now, she moved faster, scuttling after them, holding out her hands, brushing the rough walls with her fingertips. Reaching a dead end, she turned her head left and then right, shining the feeble beam in each direction, stabbing into the endless gloom of both passageways.

  She held her breath.

  Listened.

  And heard only scrapes and scuffles sounding from each hallway.

  She turned back around, but the way she thought she had come from was now blocked by a solid wall of sandstone. She desperately wished Temple had fitted them with radios like the other team members, but now there was nothing to do but stay here and wait. She couldn’t call out and risk alerting the enemy.

  Maybe she could RV the way. And for a second, she thought first about her brother, wondering how Caleb and Alexander were faring.

  A glimpse—a flash of light in the gloom, and she saw them: following a woman in a gray flowing sari across a stretch of desert, toward a waiting boat on the Nile.

  Smiling, she turned her attention to the corridor on her left, and as she was about to project her thoughts in that direction, her light caught the flash of something white darting out of view. Her breath caught in her throat and she staggered forward, mouth open. Still not daring to call out, she rushed ahead then skidded to a stop, suddenly terrified of setting off fish wire traps or buried mines.

  Was this a trick?

  I saw a face, she thought. Someone all in white, there for a moment, gone the next. Still fearing a trick, she moved cautiously. A few more steps, then she stopped. Flicked off her headlamp. Don’t want to give anyone a target.

  Then she tried to peer ahead in her mind.

  And once again she winced, reeling immediately from a wall of blue.

  A sound up ahead like a throaty chuckling.

  “Who’s there?” she called out.

  Laughter again. Cruel and mocking.

  This time, behind her.

  She backed up. Flattened against the wall and crouched. Again she reached out with her mind, trying to see, but there was nothing in either direction, nothing but that awful blue, closing in around her on all sides like a sphere. Shrinking.

  And then the laughter again. And footfalls approaching.

  “Come out, come out…”

  Oh god,
it’s the Eye.

  “I’ve got you now, another bird for my cage.”

  A light sprang on, just feet away, the beam extending—

  “I’ve got—”

  -then freezing. Dust motes suspended.

  “…you…” The word slowed, stretched and faded with a series of echoes as the light dimmed.

  And Phoebe realized she was falling backwards, through the wall that now wasn’t a wall. A veil of blackness sucked her in, then resealed where she had been crouching just as time seemed to hiccup, then snap back into place.

  “…now!” She heard the Eye speaking, but it sounded like it came from a great distance.

  The darkness around her trembled.

  Fists pounded on the other side of the wall and a defiant grunting reached her ears.

  Dazed, she turned around and saw that she stood on a great precipice overlooking an impossible sight.

  A glimpse only, lasting maybe four or five seconds. A time in which she took in an incredible vista, a chasm stretching miles across and just as deep, jagged cliffs encircling and enshrining a valley in the shadowy depths. The gloom was punctuated only by an array of lights—some sort of oddly purple phosphorescence—clinging to unnatural towers of rock or crystal, shimmering domes and palatial hillside gardens. The sound of underground streams reached her ears, the plunking of rocks into a cool lake. A fresh breeze rushed across her hair, cooling her skin, blowing back her dusty hair.

  But then the image faded, the darkness closed in around her, and all that remained was a man in a white robe, with a gray beard down to his waist.

  He smiled at her and said, “We have watched you for a long time, Phoebe Crowe. Welcome to a place no outsider has ever seen, except in the embrace of dreams that never linger for long upon waking. Welcome…” He spread his arms wide and the darkness behind him unclouded for just a moment, revealing the subterranean city in all its glowing splendor.

  “…to Shamballa.”

  #

  Orlando wanted to race back through the tunnels looking for her, calling her name, but Temple hauled him back. He waved to two of his men and sent them back, hissing at them that they should have watched her.