by A. G. Riddle
But if the water topped the mountain, their only option would be to find something to make a raft out of and try to make landfall further inland. But where would the new coastline form? Miles, hundreds of miles away?
A sound, over the ridge—like the Earth was taking a deep breath. Paul could feel the wind rushing past him, flowing out to sea.
“Come on,” he grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her toward a ridge, pushing his legs through now knee-deep water. It was all Paul could do not to reel back when he saw the wall of water rushing over the sea.
He thought Mary was going to release his hand for a moment, but she squeezed harder.
Paul looked from the mountain to the valley—which was fully submerged. They could run back, try to get under water, hold on to something. Would that be safe? He had absolutely no idea.
Or they could run to the mountain top. If the wave topped it…
He made his decision.
He tugged at Mary’s hand, and she followed as fast as she could, not saying a word.
He pushed harder, feeling her strength draining as well as his own.
Finally, she fell in the water, and Paul jerked her up. “Keep going,” he said, wrapping his arm around her, half-carrying her as her legs walked and kicked the water.
Ahead, the forest stopped and a clearing spread out. It wasn’t the top of the mountain, but…
Figures, moving, heading toward a rock outcropping.
“Help!” Paul yelled. He released Mary, and she collapsed into the water on her hands and knees. Paul rushed forward, waving his arms back and forth in the air. “Hey!”
The figures stopped, then two of them were racing towards him, cutting through the water with breathtaking speed. The man was tall, over six feet and well-built. A soldier. And so was the woman, though she was trim, her skin dark caramel.
The man put his shoulder into Paul’s stomach and hoisted him up, holding him by his legs while speeding back to the clearing, only slightly slower with Paul’s added weight. Paul saw the woman lift Mary the same way, and then they were close behind them.
A skinny Asian teenager with short black hair was grabbing small packages out of massive crates stacked on pallets in the clearing.
“Time to go, Milo,” the man called.
He set Paul down, and the woman released Mary. Their rescuers ran full on toward a rock wall and… disappeared.
The Asian teenager stopped just before it and waved his hand. “Come on.” He turned and walked through the rock.
Paul and Mary charged after them and right through the wall, which was clearly a hologram of some kind.
The area beyond was almost pitch-black, save for a tiny glowing yellow light at the end of the tunnel, like a train in the far distance.
“Come on!” A voice ahead of them called.
Paul again grabbed Mary’s hand, and they lumbered through the dark on their exhausted legs.
The impact of the wave was deafening. Paul felt as though he were in the barrel of a gun that had been fired. The blow threw him and Mary against the left wall. They rolled to the ground, and water rushed over them. The shaft was on a downward incline. It would fill…
Paul again felt hands on him, and he was up, floating through the shaft, the soldier carrying him.
The yellow light grew brighter and the splash of water louder until he saw a set of doors part, and the five of them were out of the shaft, into an elevator of some sort. The man worked a panel that closed the doors quickly, but there was still three feet of water in the elevator. He seemed not to care. The lights in the elevator flickered, and it shuddered a few times. Paul wasn’t sure if it was losing power.
He leaned against the wall, trying to take stock of his injuries. He hurt all over, and his muscles throbbed. It was hard to isolate any particular malady.
“I’m Paul Brenner,” he said, to no one in particular.
“I thought you might be,” the soldier said. “I’m David Vale.”
“Thank you for saving us… twice.”
“No problem.” He stared at the water. “Just doing my job.”
The teenager smiled at Paul. “I’m Milo.”
The elevator doors opened, emptying the water into a dry hallway where a woman stood. Paul recognized her. He had seen her in months of videos during the Atlantis Plague clinical trials, talked to her several times on the phone, but he had never seen Kate Warner in person until this moment.
14
Paul unfolded the crisp, dry clothes Kate had provided and began stripping off his soaked shirt and pants. He threw them on the narrow bed and used the pillow to sponge some of the water off his body. He was so soaked he wondered if he’d ever be dry again.
“You knew about this?”
Mary was staring at him, still wearing her own soggy clothes, ignoring her clean set on the desk. They were alone in the small bedroom, and her voice boomed in the space.
“I did.”
“When we were married?”
Paul could see where this was going. “I’ve known for twenty years—”
“You… knew about an alien spacecraft, buried outside Gibraltar, for twenty years, including the entire time we were married, and you said not one word about it to your astronomer wife who spent day and night searching for any shred, any minute sign of alien life?”
“Mary—”
“The sort of betrayal and lack of trust—”
“I took an oath, Mary. I knew the vessel existed, but I’ve never been inside until now. I knew nothing about it. I still don’t. My part of the Continuity consortium was fighting the plague.”
“They’re connected?”
“Yes. The plague originated from this vessel, from the sentry device. It was extracted in 1918.” Paul paused, watching Mary take off her clothes. “I’ll wait outside.”
“Stay. I want to hear this—while we’re alone.”
“I can…”
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, Paul.”
Paul turned around just the same, and he could almost feel Mary smiling at his modesty.
“So whoever built this vessel caused the plague?” she asked.
“Yes. The Atlanteans have been conducting genetic experiments, guiding human evolution for seventy thousand years—since the Toba Catastrophe that almost caused humanity’s extinction. We think the Spanish flu in 1918 was a mistake on their part, caused by the radiation from one of their devices, the Bell. Kate Warner, the woman you met, cured the plague. She’s the daughter of a World War I soldier who found the Bell. During the Spanish flu, he placed her mother, who had died during the outbreak, in a resurrection tube in another section of this vessel. Kate was born in 1978. Her father went missing in the eighties. Dr. Martin Grey adopted her. He was the organizer and chairman of the Continuity group. He recruited me in the early nineties at a conference I attended. He died during the plague.”
“You trust these people?”
Paul glanced back. “Yes. Well, Kate and after the rescue on the mountainside, I’d say I trust the others as well.”
“You think we should share what we know with them?”
“I do. There’s something else. Continuity, the plague, that’s what I was always working on.”
Mary was silent for a moment. “In that case, I would say it was worth it.”
Paul watched her glide through the double doors and out into the corridor.
He had been certain that it was worth it too—until this moment.
Kate was reviewing the results of a full ship diagnostic when Paul and Mary entered the conference room wearing the dry clothes she had provided.
David, Sonja, and Milo were huddled at the end of the raised table, sorting their MREs, weapons, and supplies. Paul spoke to David first. “Thank you again for saving us out there.”
“No problem.”
“We’d like to share something, the reason we came here,” Paul said, then nodded to Mary.
Mary introduced herself and her background: a
radio astronomer focused on finding and analyzing signs of extraterrestrial life.
“About two weeks ago, the radio telescope picked up an organized signal. A code.”
“That’s impossible,” Kate said.
“I verified it myself.”
“You have a copy of the signal?”
“Yes.” Mary held up a USB key. “It has two parts. The first part, a binary sequence, is two numbers: Earth’s exact location. The second part is a code made from four values.”
Kate tried to access Alpha’s link to the beacon, hoping to verify the signal.
David seemed to know what she was doing. He gave her a look that said, Pay attention to our guests.
Paul spoke before she had a chance. “Why did you say it was impossible?”
“Two Atlantean scientists came here one hundred fifty thousand years ago to study the early humans on this planet. As part of their routine procedures, they deployed a beacon. It filters the light we can see and blocks any signals either to or from Earth.”
Kate thought Mary was on the verge of crying. “What’s wrong?” Kate asked.
“Nothing… that’s just my soul collapsing like a neutron star,” Mary said.
Kate thought the comparison was a little dramatic.
“Why did they deploy a beacon? Why hide?” Paul asked.
“Protection. The scientists were aware of several threats in the galaxy—”
“What kind—” David began, but Kate cut him off. “I don’t know. Not part of my memories.”
Before anyone could ask, Kate explained that through a twist of fate, she had been born in 1978 with one of the Atlantean scientist’s memories—the ones the other scientist, Dr. Arthur Janus, had wanted his partner to resurrect with.
“So…” Mary said. “The scientists or you—”
“The scientists,” Kate corrected. “I’ve only seen memories of what they did.”
“Right. Were they protecting us or themselves with the beacon?”
“Both.”
“So how did this signal get through?”
Kate used her link to Alpha to connect to the beacon. The orbiting communications station had recorded an incoming signal and allowed it to pass. And there was something even more surprising. “It’s true, there was a transmission two weeks ago. One outgoing. A message sent from the beacon.”
“Who?” David asked.
“It had to be Janus,” Kate said. “When you and he entered the Atlantean ship to rescue me. When Dorian rescued Ares.”
“Can you see his transmission?” David asked.
“No. I should be able to, but access to the message is restricted from here. I don’t know why. The damage to the ship may have disrupted the interface.”
“What’s the other signal?” Mary asked.
Kate tried to access the entry on the beacon, but it too had restricted access. But… “It’s Atlantean.”
“How is that possible?” David asked.
“It’s not.” Kate explained that the Atlantean homeworld had fallen fifty thousand years ago, and the sole survivors of the war had sought refuge here on Earth, under the protection of the beacon, where their enemy couldn’t find them. General Ares, an Atlantean soldier, had brought the refugees here. Ares had joined the two scientists, colluding with Janus’ partner in secret to control human evolution. Ares had ultimately betrayed the scientists, killing Janus’ partner and injuring and trapping Janus.
“So Janus sent a transmission to someone—presumably an Atlantean,” David said, “and it sounds like he got a response—that’s how it got past the beacon.”
“Yes,” Kate said.
“Any ideas who it’s from or what it is?” David asked.
“No.” Kate said, lost in thought.
“It could be an ally,” Sonja said. “Help.”
“The world could use it.” Paul proceeded to share his experience with the group, how the American government had tried to use Continuity to eliminate people it felt were too weak to fight or fend for themselves. “I assume other nations are looking at the same scenario. The global flood would presumably increase the urgency.”
“Makes you wonder who to even pull for in this war,” David said.
“Indeed.”
“What’s our status here?” David asked Kate.
“Dire. The ship is more or less offline. The main computer core is gone. We’ve got emergency power and communications; that’s how I could access the beacon. We’ve got hull breaches all along the perimeter. The shaft leading out of the mountain is completely flooded.
“Assuming any of the mountain is still above sea level, we’d have to swim for it.” Kate read David’s expression. “No, there are no oxygen tanks down here. There are plenty of EVA suits, but they’re in these sections.” She brought up a map on the screen. “They were destroyed in the blasts.”
“We’re trapped,” David said.
“Almost. There’s a portal room at the other end of the ship.”
“Similar to the one in the other section—that connected to the ship in Antarctica?”
“Yes. The portal can conceivably take us to two locations. Antarctica or the beacon. But access to Antarctica is closed from that end.”
“Going there would be too dangerous anyway,” David said.
“I agree. Ares would know the second we stepped through the portal. But we can go to the beacon. If we make it there, we can see the messages and send a response.”
“I like it,” David said. “A lot better than drowning.”
“Me too. But, there may be a… slight problem with getting to the portal.”
15
Immari Operations Base Prism
Antarctica
Through the habitat’s large picture window, Dorian watched the Immari crews disassembling the white caterpillar shaped buildings, along with the rest of Fortress Antarctica. Ares’ order to break down the camp was nearly as surprising as what he wanted them to do with it: drop it into the ocean.
For hours, the crews had been tearing apart the rail guns, buildings, and everything in between, loading the parts into the fleet of planes on the ice runway for disposal at sea.
Why? Dorian wondered. It made no sense—to build all this then toss it in the sea.
Ares had ordered Dorian to evacuate the remaining staff to the mountains of South Africa, where the new Immari headquarters would be established.
Behind him, a small group of middle managers, morons, and scientists argued over the details. Dorian had bowed out of the conversation early, unable to justify wasting his time. Their planning was pointless. They were simply doing Ares’ bidding. He had planned this sequence of events thousands of years ago, and he didn’t care to share any particulars of it, didn’t think Dorian was worthy.
“If the Isthmus of Panama is underwater, the Atlantic and Pacific have been joined again. All our models are wrong. Global sea currents are…”
Their models, Dorian thought, smiling.
“The axis is a bigger issue. We know the weight of the ice at the South Pole tilts the earth. If we’ve lost enough, the axis will shift. The equator moves—”
“Which would melt more ice.”
“Yes. We could be looking at a complete melt off. That could be the reason for the full evacuation.”
“Should we call up more personnel?”
“He didn’t say to—”
“It’s implied in our mandate. Full evacuation at best speed possible.”
A technician approached Dorian. “General Ares has asked for you to join him in the ship.”
Dorian desperately wanted to tell “Lord Ares” where to shove his summons, but he simply trudged out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, he was two miles below the surface, inside the expansive Atlantean ship, standing in a room he had never seen before. Ares stood at a terminal that scrolled text in a language Dorian couldn’t read.
“I know you’re not happy with me, Dorian.”
“I salu
te your penchant for understatement.”
“I saved lives today.”
“Really? I’m sure my primitive earthman math can’t hold a candle to your advanced Atlantean calculus, but I count millions of bodies floating in a toxic soup all over the planet as lives lost. But hey, that’s just me, your humble pet caveman here.”
Dorian sensed that Ares wanted to reprimand him, strike back at him as he had in the corridor, but the Atlantean restrained himself. He needs me for something, Dorian thought.
“I didn’t tell you the plan because you would have tried to stop me.”
“No. I would have killed you.”
“You would have tried. So in not telling you, I’ve saved your life—once again.”
“Again?”
“I’m counting my genetic interventions that led to your species in the first place. Now for the matter at hand. We control the world, Dorian. We have won. Now we will build an army and win the future. There is an enemy out there. It’s only a matter of time before they find this world. You will not survive—unless we work together. We can save the survivors of this flood. We can lead our people off this world to meet our enemy, surprising them, winning our right to exist in the universe.” He turned, pacing away, letting the words sink in.
When Ares spoke again, his tone was gentler. “If I hadn’t done what I did today, every person on this world would have perished. We’ve sacrificed lives today, but in war, you must sacrifice lives to win—and you must win to preserve your civilization and your way of life. Losers don’t write history. They’re burned, buried, and forgotten.”
“You started the war out there.”
“The war out there started thousands of years ago; you just can’t see the battle lines. They reach the length of this galaxy, crossing every human world.”
“What do you want from me?”
“You have a role to play, Dorian. You’ve always known that. When we’ve defeated our enemy, you can return here and do whatever you want with this world.”
