Judgment (10 page)

“We
found
the archive.”
 

“Find it and unlock it,” Charlie corrected. “The Templars separated the key and the Ark for a reason, but it was to keep them both away from Astrals, not human hands.”
 

“You can’t know that. You saw what happened at Sinai.” He looked at Charlie, trying to imagine emotion in the stoic man. “You even
felt
it, same as the rest of us.”
 

“You can’t let your personal baggage get in the way of—”

“Then
you
take it, Charlie! You and Peers. Take the key and march right into Ember Flats and complete my father’s exalted mission. Peers showed me some of his satellite imagery. If I had to guess, he’s like Nathan — one of the privileged few the Astrals granted access and control so they could keep order. Either way, he’s got some pretty pictures. And not just satellite, or shots from above. It’s like someone stood right in front of the goddamned mega-platform they built for the Ark and took souvenir photos then emailed them over to Peers.”
 

“He says it’s Astral technology, and that he’s hijacked it.”

Cameron shook his head. Charlie never seemed to accept nuance, or get a subtle point.
 

“It’s right there in the Ember Flats town square,” Cameron said, suddenly tired. “I can even see the impression, where the key must fit into its front. I don’t think anyone would stop you if you walked right up to the thing and opened it up. It’s like they’re waiting for it to happen.”
 

“That’s exactly my point, Cameron. They’re waiting for you to go in and do what needs to be done.”
 

Cameron sighed. He’d been hearing this same argument for five long years. Charlie had barely wavered, and neither had Kindred — Charlie’s unlikely ally. Charlie wanted to insert the key and open the Ark because it’s what Benjamin’s research seemed to suggest. Kindred wanted the same thing because he sensed something in the Astral collective that suggested breath was being held on both sides, and would be until the deed was done. Delaying, Kindred said, was like a kid locking himself in his room because he was in trouble, hoping in vain that the problem might have disappeared when he finally came out.
 

But the situation was frustratingly rigid. No matter how many times Cameron suggested the group split so that each contingent could do what they felt must, Charlie and Kindred refused. They wouldn’t take the key to the Ark. They’d stick around and keep insisting that Cameron do it.
 

“Fuck that, Charlie.”
 

“You should talk to Peers about this.”

“Well, fuck Peers, too.”
 

“He’s been attacking the same puzzles as we were. Only he’s been able to incorporate new information and keep working these past years instead of merely running.” Charlie looked quickly at Cameron, eyes behind thick glasses and clearly attempting to take the implied reproach from his words. “Because he’s English, he’s got a slightly different perspective. You may want to hear it.”
 

“Stonehenge, I suppose.”
 

“Arthurian legend,” Charlie replied.
 

Cameron barked a small laugh. “Well, that makes sense.
Camelot
. You really are becoming the new Benjamin Bannister. I suppose an alien sat around the Round Table?”

“You know how myths are. Over time, they become more symbolic than literally true. Some event happened, and the people of the time built a moralistic story around it. Myths aren’t history; they’re closer to parables. In this case, it’s the myth of the sword in the stone.”

Cameron laughed again.
 

“How long has it been since we’ve been in danger from Astrals seeking the key, Cameron?”
 

Cameron pretended to look at an invisible watch. “Hours?”
 

“They pinned us down but didn’t attack. You and Jeanine were separated from the rest of us and they chased both groups, but did they ever
truly
pursue us?”
 

Cameron wanted to give an obvious yes, possibly with an insulting eye roll. But he paused a second too long, and Charlie’s words began to tumble through his head. They’d been in danger plenty, but not from the Astrals. The only verifiable danger came from the Mullah — the radical branch of Templars who had different views on how history was supposed to unfold. The Astrals always showed, swarmed, and flashed their teeth, but they hadn’t lost anyone since Nathan Andreus’s daughter, Grace. And the aliens weren’t the ones who had ended her life.
 

“What Peers has been telling me makes sense,” Charlie proceeded into Cameron’s silence. “Beings came from the sky, and humanity cowered. But in the past, there’s always been evidence of societies built together, not conquest.”
 

“Aren’t you the one who said back in Moab that colonization came first, and annihilation followed?”
 

“Matter of perspective, maybe.”
 

“And Heaven’s Veil? Was that a matter of perspective, Charlie?”
 

“If you’re objective, yes. They needed to find the archive, after the Templars hid it, because what it contains is necessary for their next stage on Earth. But they’re making this up as they go too, Cameron. If they’ve always left a device behind to record what humanity did in their absence between epochs — like security camera footage to be reviewed the next day for patterns — then it makes sense that they tried to find it first thing. It was supposed to be under Vail, below the Apex pyramid. In the past, it seems to have always been left at one of the nexus points. But the Templars had a sense of humor last time. They took the Ark from where the Astrals left it and stowed it where it had famously judged humanity in the past. But the Astrals didn’t know the Templars had found it, and when they saw that the key had been removed and stored separately, back in Cottonwood, I imagine that made them nervous. So they followed us, assuming we’d lead them to it. When that didn’t work, they powered up the grid in Heaven’s Veil, turning on what Clara called the ‘spotlight.’ We put an end to that, too, by blowing up the Apex. What choice did we leave them?”

“You’re right, Charlie. Obliterating an entire city full of hundreds of thousands of people was really sensible once you look at it that way.”
 

“Don’t be dense,” Charlie snapped, surprising Cameron. “This is a race that’s been around for hundreds of thousands of years at least, possibly millions, or billions. Cosmologically speaking, there’s room on the timeline for a species nearly that old given the right circumstances. They seeded life throughout the galaxy, maybe
many
galaxies. They’ve likely had the capacity for intergalactic travel since before humanity was a gleam in evolution’s eye. We don’t know how long their natural lifespans are as individuals, but I don’t think it matters because they’re barely individuals. You’ve heard how Kindred talks about his nightmares.”
 

Cameron had. Kindred was Meyer Dempsey through and through, but some part of his higher mind must have held bits of his former Titan self. He sometimes had night terrors of the day he was changed, and of how petrified he felt to be cut from their collective.

“They don’t think the way we do,” Charlie said, his intensity fully returned. “It’s stupid and arrogant to attribute human thought to beings that might, for all intents and purposes, think of themselves as timeless — in a single unbroken mind, if not in body. When you’re that old, you don’t worry about whether your meal at a restaurant is five minutes late or lose your Zen when the person in front of you at the ten-items-or-less line has fifty items. So yes, Cameron. To them, destroying Heaven’s Veil might have seemed perfectly sensible. If we killed as many Astrals as they killed humans, they’d shrug it off and keep ticking. It’s possible they feel it was no big deal. And by doing it, they generated an emotional signal — from the dying but also from anyone who saw or heard about it — that would have to stream out and into their lost archive. They tried to find it through more peaceful means, but humanity kept it hidden. They need it to do their work. So in their shoes, what choice did they have?”

Cameron just stared. “So we had it coming? That’s great, Charlie. Now can you explain why ‘inferior’ races are just begging for ethnic cleansing, or why women who dress provocatively have a justifiable rape coming?”
 

 
“Stay in your shell, Cameron. Keep applying your own way of seeing the world to the Astrals. See how far it gets you. Or how much further it gets you than the past five years of running away.”
 

Cameron glared at the scientist. Charlie was normally comically stodgy, so stiff and divorced from the normal rules of social intelligence that he couldn’t be convincingly angry or offensive. But this was a new Charlie, and Cameron saw determination in the set of his jaw as they sat in the near-dark. For decades, Cameron had known him as his father’s straight man — someone everyone dismissed because it was only Charlie — too oblivious to know any better. But he had several PhDs and knew more, by far, than anyone else in their longtime group. Speaking with Peers — and incorporating whatever the man had told him — seemed to have finally snapped Charlie out of complacency. Cameron didn’t have to listen, but doing so now felt like deliberately burying his head in the sand. And this time, if he refused to hear Charlie, he felt somehow sure the group would split, and the division would be permanent.
 

“The sword in the stone, huh?”
 

“That’s what Peers thinks,” Charlie said, an edge still in his voice.

“So what does it mean? What comes next?”
 

“You know what comes next.” Charlie fixed Cameron in his hard stare. “Nobody could pull Excalibur from the stone, even as it sat there in the middle of the town square for anyone to try. Nobody but Arthur.”
 

“If you think it’s right,” Cameron said, “I’m willing to trust him. I’ll give him the key, and he can open it … and God help us all if the Astrals don’t like what they see we’ve done while they’ve been away.” Cameron thought of Hitler. He thought of cults led by deadly leaders. He thought of poverty, starvation, apathy, hatred. It wasn’t a pretty picture, but if Charlie was right, the Astrals had all the time in the world. They’d wait as long as humanity required to make up their minds and face the jury.
 

“Based on all Peers showed me, that’s not how it works,” Charlie said. “You touched the key first, inside the Cottonwood archives.”

But Cameron couldn’t go back. He
wouldn’t
go back. Not ever.
 

“You’re King Arthur in this tale,” Charlie said, “and it’s time to pull Excalibur from the stone.”
 

“I’m going.”

Meyer stopped, Lila’s back to him. He thought he’d been quiet, even on the Den’s stone floors. The place was a study in opposites, stocked to the rafters with technological equipment — damn near a post-Astral version of NORAD at Cheyenne Mountain — but there were no niceties to go with all the doodads. Charlie might as well have designed the place. It was eminently practical and not at all warm. The perfect hideout for a logical pragmatist. If they weren’t planning to leave immediately, Charlie would be happy here. As might Kindred, with all the Astrals in the air.
 

“I hope you don’t mean what I think you do.”
 

Lila turned to face her father. “I suppose you’re going to ground me?”
 

“Maybe.” But he allowed a smile. He saw Lila almost smile back. Smiles from her father were still disarming. Time was, he barely ever smiled or laughed. But that was before he was confined for two full years, forced to confront his humanity first, his sanity and survival second.
 

“Dad, I’m twenty-four years old. You can’t tell me what to do.”
 

“I don’t think I’ve told you to do anything. All I did was walk into the room.” He looked around. “Is Christopher here?”
 

“He’s with Clara. She wanted to explore.”
 

“Did Peers say it was okay?”
 

Lila nodded. “They’re with Aubrey. I told him not to show Clara where they kept their enemies’ severed heads.”
 

“Please tell me that’s a joke.” But the smile was larger now.
 

“Don’t try to soften me up. I said I’m going.”
 

Meyer entered the small room. It probably hadn’t been intended as a bedroom, but it had become one. There were three skinny collapsible cots against the walls. Two had been pushed together. Meyer felt a curious unpleasant sensation and marveled at himself for a moment from the outside. Even after all that had happened, the idea of his adult daughter sleeping beside a man still gave his stomach a quiet punch.
 

“I’m just checking out the digs.” Meyer circled the room. It was
so
blank. Three cots, accompanying bedclothes, and nothing else. They’d been wearing their travel backpacks in Derinkuyu when the Astrals arrived, but Lila had handed hers off to Christopher once it became too unwieldy in the tight passages. He’d lost it in the exodus, and now it seemed Lila would need to share Piper’s clothes until they found another former human spot to raid.