The Cydonia Objective (Morpheus Initiative 03) (34 page)

"So how does the Tablet fit in?" Orlando asked. "And why does Calderon need it?"

"That," said Temple, "is your objective number one. Probe the Emerald Tablet and question its relationship with Cydonia. There's something there. What it is, we're entirely in the dark about."

Diana cleared her throat. "We know Mars once had a thriving ecosystem, a habitable environment, before its devastation. And now, knowing what we know about the real history of Earth, I believe we're in a position to answer one of the great mysteries of evolution. Where we came from, and how we 'evolved' so fast, without a discoverable missing link."

"How?" Orlando said, then trembled.

"Wait," said Phoebe. "A cataclysm on Mars. The red land that sunk. Out beyond the Pillars of Hercules." Phoebe looked at Diana and saw the agreement in her eyes. "That's where Plato put it."

"Put what?" asked Orlando

Diana smiled. "Atlantis. I believe Mars was Atlantis, and it's why no one has ever found it."

"Looking in the wrong spot," Phoebe said. "But so many legends speak of it. Mayans, the Phoenicians, a lot of cultures, not only associated Mars and the color red with war and violence, but with their origins. Egypt, with its 'upper' and 'lower' land. The lower world, or the Underworld being red… The place where they came from. The place…" She gasped.

"The place where they would go again. Once they died." 

She stared at Orlando. "Oh my god."

"What?"

Temple frowned. "What are you thinking?"

Phoebe closed her eyes. "I'm thinking I'm nuts to say this, but it might explain it all, especially what Calderon is after."

"What?" Orlando asked again, insistent.

"What's the great mystery of many religions, and especially Christianity?"

Orlando shrugged. "The resurrection?"

"Close," Phoebe said. "How about this—that in order to receive eternal life, what do you have to do first?"

"Besides all that, do good deeds, give to the poor and believe in Him?"

"Think more obvious," Phoebe said. "First, before your soul can live forever, you have to die."

"Die…" Orlando's eyes clouded. "Oh, I get it."

"Explain please," Diana said, leaning forward. "Does this have to do with the Emerald Tablet?"

"Oh yes," Temple said. "If it's truly the Tablet of Destiny, like in the Babylonian creation epic, then it has the power of the universe. A power to harness energy and create a weapon. Maybe it's been used in the past like upon Mohenjo-Daro."

"And in the Great Pyramid," Phoebe said at once. "I think Thoth had it, and used it as a retaliation or preemptive strike, maybe on the remnants on Mars, or somewhere else here, as the two sides squared off over our fate."

"But the Tablet has another power," Orlando said.

Phoebe nodded. "For eternal life, you need to die first… but I'm guessing that first, you need to be prepared. Ready, like all those instructions on the walls of the Pharaoh's tombs. They were trying to give the soul directions, a way to get somewhere and be reborn. But to do that…"

"You had to have control over your soul."  Orlando's eyes flashed. "The Emerald Tablet—it somehow acts to free your consciousness from your body. And keep it under your control."

"I know," said Phoebe, "my dad could do it. Even after he died, he kept appearing to us. And Xavier… it seems he learned how to leave his body for a time."

"And now," said Temple, "Calderon's got it. Maybe he plans to use it just for himself, but my guess is that he'll extend that ability to people in his cabal, his lodge or whatever. And then, with HAARP as his tool and the Tablet's power to enhance its ionizing beams…"

"He'll destroy the Earth," Orlando whispered. "I wondered why he would just commit suicide, just for revenge—and wipe us all out. But now I know."

Phoebe nodded. "Wow, just like those Heaven's Gate cultists back some years. They killed themselves and hoped their spirits would hop aboard some passing spaceship on a comet."

"Looks like they may have gleamed a bit of the truth," Orlando said.

"Or at least, what Calderon believes is the truth."

"So we've got to stop them," Phoebe said. "But how?  He's got the Tablet. Probably the keys and the translation as well. They could be on their way to Alaska now. We're out of time."

"Not necessarily," Temple said. "There's still Mars. If you can find out what's there, maybe it's something we can use or threaten Calderon with."

"And if we can't?" asked Phoebe. "Don't they have shields there? I'm guessing they do."

"Yes," Temple said. "But you've shown you can get past them by looking for creative end-arounds. I trust you."

"Not to sound like a broken record here, but what if we can't?" Orlando asked.

Temple's expression turned rock-hard. "Then we can only hope for aid from an unlikely source. That the Watchers get off the sidelines and rejoin the fray."

12.

Gacona, Alaska

Alexander awoke with a start and a popping in his ears. Yawning, he looked out the window, taking several moments for the vast expanse of white to register as snow and ice.

"We're over the Yukon," one of the twins said. Alexander let his vision linger on the sprawling ice-capped mountains draped in wispy clouds. The sky was a stark but dull metallic blue; the sun somewhere low beyond the range of jagged peaks. Finally he turned his face away and looked at the boy standing in front of him.

They were on some kind of fancy Learjet. Alexander hadn't really paid attention when they'd boarded. He just knew it was sleek and narrow, with wide leather seats and TVs and a lot of leg room. But he'd had little time to appreciate any of it, as they lifted off quickly from Alexandria, and then someone gave him a drink of water that tasted funny, and as the twins looked on from across the aisle, giggling, he dozed right off, unable to even hang onto any coherent thoughts.

All he knew now was that he was alive. Safe for the moment, but everything had changed. Their enemies had the Books of Thoth and the Emerald Tablet—the ancient relics he had sworn to protect. Some Keeper he turned out to be. Probably the shortest tenure of any of them throughout history. And now, he very likely was going to preside over their extermination.

But then he had a more sobering thought. That it wasn't just going to be the Keepers. What was done to the Library—as awful as it was—that was just a taste of what would happen if Calderon and his followers succeeded.

Sleep was troubling and anything but restful, full of fiery cataclysmic nightmares, shifting earth, exploding volcanoes and rivers of lava. Clouds of ash hung low in the sky, huge fissures opened in the ground, swallowing up entire cities; seas boiled and monster waves crashed over the world.

He shook the visions away, then yawned again, popping his ears. "We're descending?"

"Yep," said the twin stood in front of him, just standing there like a bemused spectator at a zoo. He was nibbling on a Snickers bar.

Alexander frowned at him. "Jacob?"  It wasn't easy to tell them apart, especially when they dressed the same. Now they wore baggy jeans, hi-top Nikes and long-sleeve navy-blue shirts. But Alexander had spent some time studying the twins. Jacob seemed to be a little neater, his shirt tucked in, his hair combed back, while his brother's appearance was more ruffled. Isaac sat in his seat, playing a Nintendo DS, grinning as he energetically twisted his arms and mashed the buttons with his fingers.

Calderon was in the back, sitting opposite from Xavier Montross, who seemed to be fast asleep.
Or drugged,
Alexander thought. Two of Calderon's goons sat on either side of Xavier, arms crossed, eyes straight ahead.

Alexander craned his neck to see what Calderon was holding, and he let out a gasp.

"The Emerald Tablet," said Jacob. "Yeah, he's been studying it, meditating and stuff for about two hours."  It was resting on the senator's lap, and he seemed to be in a trance. His palms gently rubbed the Tablet's outer surface, fingertips moving slowly, tracing unseen words and signs. Tiny flickers of green sparked off his skin and fizzled in the air.

"My brother and I are next," Jacob continued.

Alexander turned his attention away. "Next?"

Jacob took a seat beside him, crossing his legs and leaning forward. "Our dad—stepdad, obviously—said we need to learn its secrets after he's done. Us, and the other members of…"  He trailed off suddenly, catching himself.

"Members of what?" Alexander asked. "Oh, your special cult that wants to destroy the world?"

A light shined in Jacob's deep brown eyes. "More like remake the world."

"And how are you going to do that?  By first killing everyone else?"

Jacob smiled. He glanced over to Isaac, who was still deeply involved in his game, the headphones crackling with explosions and violence. "You're special, Alexander. Maybe when you see what we can become, what we're meant to be, you'll accept that. And then maybe we'll accept you. You'll be one of the saved."

Alexander shook his head. "I don't understand any of this. And I don't think you do, either. You're just being used. And that Tablet…"  He glanced back at Calderon.

"Come on, Alexander. Don't be like that. We're brothers, the three of us. Part of an ancient prophecy. Even you have to see that we're special. Chosen."

Alexander glanced out the window, seeing the mountains in clearer detail. "If that's true," he said. "I wish we were never born."

Jacob eyes hardened. "How can you say that?"

"Let him whine," said another voice. The headphones were off, and Isaac was sitting up, stretching. "Our little brother doesn't have any sense of purpose. He can't dream big, like you and me, Jacob."

Alexander turned away again, flushing.

"Doesn't even have any real talent, I bet."  Isaac leaned forward, his coal-black hair flipping over his eyes. "Didn't see us coming, did you brother?  Didn't see your lighthouse burning up. Or," he said, chuckling, "your mom…"

"Shut up," Alexander said. It was just above a whisper. He was gripping the chair's armrests. Legs tensing.

"Or what?"

Jacob held up a hand. "Isaac, leave him alone. I think he's had a bad week."

"Awww."  Isaac leaned back and put his feet on his twin's chair. "Suck it up, little brother. It only gets worse from here."

Alexander gave them both a glare, full of hate. "Stop it. Don't talk to me anymore."

His grin widening, Isaac shrugged at Jacob. "Another threat, brother. I don't think we like his tone."

Alexander leaned forward. "I've already killed a man during this 'bad week'. Don't push me."

Jacob and Isaac both stared at him. "You?"  Isaac cut off his laugh when he saw Alexander wasn't backing down.

"Shot him in the head," Alexander continued. He never blinked.

Jacob's mouth hung open until Isaac slapped him on the shoulder. "Huh. Maybe we should give that a look-see. Make sure the brat's not lying."

Jacob nodded.

"Besides," said Isaac, "it would be cool to see someone get shot in the skull."  He gave Alexander a begrudging look of modest respect.