The Cydonia Objective (Morpheus Initiative 03) (35 page)

"You ever killed anyone?" Alexander asked, still feeling cocky even though his heart was thundering. His ears popped again, and he winced with the sharp pain.

Jacob looked down, but Isaac smiled and rubbed his hands together. "May 5
^th
, last year. Seattle. Check it out while we're checking you out."

Alexander met Jacob's eyes, and the silent twin gave a slight shake of his head in warning. His lips moved, forming the word "Don't…"

Alexander trembled, tried to listen to the advice but it was too late.

Some kind of ceremony, people with robes and holding candles. A dark, shadowy chamber, with a circular—or octagonal—rim of marble pillars and some kind of black altar in the center. A man wearing silver shackles and a white robe with lunar designs on it topples over as the crowd of ram-headed spectators cheer.

Two boys stand over the gagged man who's bleeding from his skull as the boy—a leering, dancing youth dressed in red and wearing a horned mask—dances on his feet; he's holding a gold-tipped spear, preparing for another jab.

The captive tries to wriggle away, but there's some kind of barbed-wire netting caught around his legs and pinning back his arms. A thrust, and the golden point comes back red after puncturing the man's lungs, between two ribs.

Another cheer, and then a man with a familiar cane steps out of the shadows. "Very good. Now it's your brother's turn to finish the battle."

The boy lowers his head and grudgingly hands the lance over to the other boy, who reluctantly takes it.

"Finish the re-enactment," Calderon urges, raising his cane as the multitude begins to hum and chant incomprehensible syllables.

Feeling the eyes of everyone upon him—especially those of his brother—the boy steps up, raising the spear with both trembling hands. He meets the agonized eyes of the sacrifice. Chooses his spot, hoping for a clean kill, and closes his eyes before he wills his arms to strike.

A gasp and a shrieking cry of pain.

Laughter.

Isaac's mask is off, and he's barely able to contain his glee, pointing… 

The spear point is stuck in the captive's breastplate, just under the throat. He's missed the heart completely.

Jacob lets go, turns and drops to his knees. Bile rushes up out of his mouth, soaking the floor. Calderon shakes his head, then nods to Isaac who moves in. He puts his foot on the captive's chest, pulls out the lance, then quickly drives it in, lower and to the right, spearing the heart and ending the man's cries.

Jacob crawls away, into the shadows where he curls up, safe in the darkness.

Alexander lurched back in his seat with a sudden jolt. Turbulence.

Isaac was back in his seat, cross-legged. Eyes closed. Remote-viewing with a smile on his face. But Jacob looked ashen, staring at Alexander. "You saw…?"

Nodding, Alexander glanced away, out the window to the snowy terrain rising up to meet them. "Why… what was that?"

"A re-enactment," Jacob whispered. "Marduk and Tiamat. The whole planetary war thing. Everyone has to do it, our stepdad said. And… it was supposed to prepare us for what we needed to do."

"What—to kill a lot of people?"

Jacob gave a weak nod.

"But you… you're not like your brother."  Alexander took a breath, and with it, found some hope. "This doesn't have to happen. You can help us."

Jacob shook his head. "It's already done. It's over."

"No," said Alexander. "Our dad's still out there. He'll figure out a way. He'll stop this."

Jacob looked down, then back to where Calderon had just now opened his eyes. He was exhaling calmly, but his eyes shone with an emerald tint. "I'm not sure I want to. You don't understand what we can become…"

"What?"

"Don't you get it?  It's what we were meant to be. It's what we were promised."

Alexander frowned, trying to remember his dad's lessons. The stories and myths.

With a little enthusiasm returning to his voice, Jacob said: "We'll be gods."

"I'm a kid," Alexander said quietly, fixing Jacob with a cold stare. "That's all I want to be."

Calderon slipped the tablet back in the leather case on top of the translation tablets, then raised his cane and nudged Xavier, who didn't move. His eyelids were rapidly flickering.

"Look sharp, boys!" Calderon called. "The HAARP facility is standing ready for us. We're landing in ten minutes. And then…" He turned his gaze out the window, looking out of over the expanse of the polar realm, and Alexander imagined he considered himself observing the whole world.

A grunt, then a familiar voice filled the cabin.

"Don't celebrate yet," said Xavier. He was blinking, rubbing his eyes. "I just popped in on my half-brother."

Alexander saw Calderon's shoulders tense. He gripped the cane with both hands. "And?"

Xavier flashed Alexander a smile of reassurance. "And it seems, dear Caleb has found it."

"No…  Nina should have stopped him by now."

A shake of his head, and then Xavier gave a light chuckle. "Seems old flames have been rekindled. And Lady Liberty has given up her deepest secret."

"The spear…" Calderon almost choked on the word, then reached for his cell phone.

Xavier nodded. "Yes, call in your troops. Alert Homeland Security, and hope he hasn't already booked a flight. Because he's got it."

Alexander's heart was pounding, his throat tight with excitement and hope.

"And," Xavier continued, "he's coming for you."

BOOK THREE

Myth and Marvel

1.

Caleb didn't relax until they were over the Rocky Mountains and the majestic range loomed out the windows, presenting an imposing sight, rising tall and proud. Finding comfort in their strength, as if they offered protection from any pursuers, he leaned back, clutching the satchel to his chest as he exhaled.

On the seat across from him, Nina smiled. She hadn't taken her eyes off him since they'd sat down, making him nervous. He wondered what those cat-like jade eyes were seeing. Was she regretting her decision to come with him, to turn against Calderon and their boys? 
And was she even sincere?
That was the bigger question, and Caleb had spent the past six hours nervously looking over his shoulder.

Back in New York City, Caleb had called Phoebe and had their new friends provide transportation, a jet fueled and piloted by one of Temple's trusted men. Despite fears of a last-minute assault on the runway, they took off and traveled quickly and without interruption.

Refusing to speak to her just yet, Caleb closed his eyes.

"Rest," he heard her say. "You'll need it."

He gave a nod, but that was all. His mind was already drifting, losing its grip on reality, bumping and shifting visions with the turbulence.

A flash of city streets, mobbed with cheering people as a familiar man stands on a balcony, framed by huge red banners, displaying the Nazi swastika. He's shouting, raising his fists defiantly to the churning clouds above, while down by his legs, out of sight, rests a narrow case, open, revealing a gleaming metallic shard inside.

Another rumble, the jet dipped.

Caleb's eyes stayed closed. And dimly, he nudged his consciousness along… 
Show me what they were planning.

And the theater in his mind dissolved, replaced with:
a vast tunnel, a yawning cavern. Frosted, gleaming with enormous icicles. A team of twenty men in parkas and heavy woolen hoods, brandishing flashlights as well as sub-machine guns, red armbands proudly displaying the same swastika. They advance slowly, toward a smooth wall with a similar design, much larger and carved with deep precision. The rectangular wall section is guarded by a pair of ram-headed sphinxes that stand crookedly on the uneven ground.

One man steps forward and unwraps something long and narrow from a cloth bundle.

"Our fuehrer will be pleased," he whispers to the nearest man, who merely snorts.

"We don't do this for him. But for us, for the true masters of this world."

"You think they will notice us?"

"With the spear in our possession?  They must. Everything we've learned, what the mystics told us… They've been seeking this, and now it is ours to offer up to them."

The man with the lance nods, lowers his head and raises it up toward the door. "This then will be the key that opens their realm—their secrets—to us."

The others bow their heads and drop to one knee.

And they wait.

And wait.

Until the man's arms get tired and he can barely hold up the artifact any longer.

"What are they waiting for?" he whispers to his companion.

The other man, his eyes narrowed under ice-flecked eyebrows, shakes his head. "Maybe we're not yet worthy."

The spear lowers. "We did not yet come as victors."

"The war goes badly."

"We must win first. Conquer."

"Purify."

Both men stand, and as the spear again is wrapped in its cloth, they turn their eyes from the door, from the ram-headed guardians.

"We will return when we've succeeded."

Caleb stirred. Something was happening. Not there in the vision, but-

"F-18s!" the pilot's voice shouted over the intercom. "Claiming we're violating FAA directives. Forcing us to land."

Caleb looked outside. They were over water.

"Where are we?"

"You slept long enough," Nina snapped. "We circled Seattle, and are flying up the coast. Thought it best to avoid complications, but apparently that didn't work."

"Get Temple," Caleb yelled. "Ask him to–"

"Already tried. He's working it, but his orders are being countermanded."

Calderon.

"He knows," Nina said, gripping the back of the chair in front of her. She shot Caleb a worried look. "The boys… I'm a liability right now. They can latch onto me easily, find me anywhere."

"We have to land," the pilot called back. "Or they're promising to shoot us out of the sky."

"He'll do it," Nina said.

"But the Spear-?"