The Atlantis World (The Origin Mystery, Book 3) (12 page)

“Mission parameters?”

“Kill. We don’t need them alive. Don’t take chances, Dorian. The stakes are too high.”

“Why can’t we access the beacon from here? We have a portal too. I could wait for them.”

“The portals here aren’t keyed for the beacon—only the scientist’s ships are. Access is strictly limited. But you have my memories and my access genes. You can follow them. The beacon is the absolute last place you can stop them. This mission will determine all of our fates, Dorian.”

C
HAPTER
16

Kate was searching for just the right words when David rubbed his eyebrows and said, “I’m sorry, but when I hear ‘we may have a problem,’ it almost always, and I mean 99.9% of the time, means we’re screwed.”

“I… wouldn’t go that far,” Kate said. Kate brought up the schematic of the ship again. “Normally, we would take the outer corridors to the portal room. But they’re flooded.”

“What about the large chamber in the middle? ‘Arc 1701-D.’”

“That’s the
potential
problem—traveling through it.”

“What is it?”

“Arc stands for Arcology. 1701 is the world it was collected from, and D is the size designation—the largest. This arc is five miles long and three miles wide.”

“Arcology?”

“It’s a self-contained ecosystem. The Atlanteans collected them from worlds they visited, almost like little snow globes. The landers, in this case, the
Alpha Lander
, carries the arc machines to the surface where it studies the world, collecting data. Then it gathers a subset of the planet’s species and makes a balanced biosphere. The goal is to collect exotic species the Atlantean citizens might like to see when the arcs are exhibited back on the homeworld.”

“So it’s like a portable zoo exhibit,” Sonja said.

“Yes. The scientists used it to generate support. Science was hard to fund, even on the Atlantis world.”

David held his hand up. “I’m thinking the key words here are ‘exotic species.’”

“Yes. That’s one of the issues,” Kate said.

“The other?”

“Usually when the arc is done with collection, the lander takes it back to the space vessel for storage. This arc hadn’t been detached yet when the ship was attacked. Conceivably the arcologies should sustain themselves indefinitely—they’re on a separate power source from the lander, and the arc computer is constantly taking readings, intervening to balance the biosphere.”

“So if we enter, could it try to… balance us out?” David asked.

“If we traverse it fast enough, that won’t be a problem.”

“So speed is the issue?”

“Yes. Well, one of the issues but not the biggest. This arc has been tossed around—once thirteen thousand years ago when the lander was split in half by Ares’ attack on the scientists, then again nine months ago when my father destroyed the other half of the ship off Gibraltar and pushed this half to Morocco, and today, when the mines rattled the ship. There’s no telling what the environment is like inside. Some species could have died out, others mutated, to say nothing of the terrain, which could be impassable.”

Paul stared from Kate to David. “Sorry but this sounds worse every second.”

David rubbed his eyebrows again. “Let’s back up. What was the arc like when it was collected? And please, please tell me exactly what the exotic creatures are.”

“Okay.” Kate took a deep breath. “World 1701 was basically a vast rainforest, like the Amazon.”

“Snakes inside?” David asked quickly.

“Definitely.”

“I hate snakes.”

“They’re low on the predator list,” Kate said. “The research logs say that world 1701 was in a binary star system—that means it has two suns.”

David and Mary both gave her a look that said,
We know what a binary star system is
. Paul stared at the floor, looking nervous. Sonja’s expression was blank, utterly unreadable, and Milo struck a sharp contrast with them all: a wide grin on his face, like a kid waiting for an amusement park ride to start.

“The days are long in the arc,” Kate said. “There’s sunlight for about twenty hours. The overlap of the passing of the two suns in the middle of the day is extremely bright and hot. The night lasts about five hours. That’s when things might get… dangerous.”

“The exotic creatures.” David said.

“Yes. The scientists had never seen anything like the predators on 1701. They’re flying reptiles that hunt at night, but what they do during the long days is what makes them special. They spread out on mountain tops and collect sunlight. Their bodies are covered in scales that are essentially photocells. They charge during the day, collecting solar power that fuels the cells at night. They use the power to cloak themselves, essentially becoming invisible.”

“Cool,” Milo said.

“Can we cross in a single day?” David asked.

“I doubt it. If the terrain is like it was on 1701, it’s dense. We’ll have to cut our way through, camp for at least one night, maybe two.”

“How smart are they?”

“Very smart. They have a social structure, hunt in packs, and adapt quickly.”

“Can I talk to you?”

When Kate and David were alone in the bedroom, he said, “You’ve
got
to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“We’ve been living next door to a Jurassic Park snow globe for two weeks, and you never bothered to mention it?”

“Well, I didn’t… think it would come up.”

“Unbelievable.”

Kate sat on the bed and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry, okay. I mean, didn’t you ever wonder why the lander was so big? Sixty square miles?”

“No, Kate, I never really stopped to contemplate why the lander was so big.” He paced the room. “I feel like Sam Neill in Jurassic Park when he realizes the raptor cage is open.”

Kate wondered what part of the male brain prioritized movie scene storage above all other details in life. Maybe the answer was in the Atlantean research database somewhere. It was all she could do not to launch a query for the answer.

“Is there another arc?”

“Yes,” Kate said. “The ship had two—one on the other side for balance—that’s why 1701-D was attached. But the other one, which was destroyed thirteen thousand years ago, is empty. It would have contained an Earth arcology.”

“The wooly mammoth/saber-toothed cat exhibit?”

“Something like that,” Kate said dryly.

“Sorry, it’s been a rough day.” David massaged his eyelids. “Between your news and… I thought Dorian and Ares were contained…”

“If we can get to the beacon, and contact help, whoever sent the message, we can turn this around,” Kate said. “There is one more issue.” She read David’s exasperated expression and spoke quickly. “But I think we can handle it. The arc access doors are jammed. Alpha can’t open them.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure. It could be the arc locking them down, preventing access, or something else.”

David nodded.

“What do you want to do?” she asked.

“We don’t have a choice. We grabbed as much food as we could from up top, but it won’t last. We have to try to reach the beacon—for our sake and everyone else’s. We’ll blow the arc doors open and take our chances inside.”

Thirty minutes later, David and Sonja were placing the last of the explosives on the door that led to Arc 1701-D.

“This is half of what we have,” Sonja said. “If it’s not enough, we won’t be able to get out.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” David said.

They set the timer and retreated.

The echo of the blast was deafening, even far from the explosion. The group of six cautiously approached the dust cloud that spread out, filling the corridors on each side of the arc door. The beads of light at the floor and ceiling glowed through the gray-black cloud, guiding their way.

When David got his first glance at the arc door, he first felt relief: the explosions had punched through. But that was all the good news.

C
HAPTER
17

My world is dying
, Dorian thought as he watched the storms over the sea form, rage, and fade just as quickly.

The flight had been like riding a roller coaster for hours: one second the plane was plummeting, diving into the dark unknown, the next it was coasting, sunlight shining through the windows. He and his six soldiers were strapped in tight, and no one had said a word since takeoff. Three of the men had thrown up about an hour in. Two still dry-heaved every fifteen minutes or so, when the turbulence was especially bad. The other three stared straight ahead, gritting their teeth.

At least he knew whom he could depend on now—when the fight began. And it would start soon. Somewhere under the vast sea that consumed more and more of his planet, David Vale was waiting on him.

Dorian had almost killed David twice—once in Pakistan, again in China, and Dorian
had
killed him twice: both times in the Atlantean vessel in Antarctica. The first time, David had resurrected in Antarctica, directly across from Dorian, thanks to David’s Atlantis Gene, which Kate had given him. David was stronger, but Dorian was smarter. Or rather, willing to do things David wasn’t. David wasn’t a survivor. His moral compass had been his weakness. Dorian had killed him for a second time, but David had resurrected in the Atlantean structure off the coast of Morocco.

Today would be their final conflict.

But Kate Warner was smarter than both of them. She was sublimely clever, and she had knowledge Dorian didn’t. That was their advantage: David’s strength and Kate’s brains. But Dorian had the element of surprise. And something else—the willingness to do what had to be done to save his people. He was the march of human history, embodied in one man. A survivor, standing against impossible odds, doing the things others, like Kate and David, turned their backs on. He was the essence of human survival.

A part of him was nervous about the final confrontation with David. That would be the true test—whether Dorian could win.

If he could, he would turn his sights on Ares. The Atlantean was a snake, a manipulator. Dorian didn’t trust him. He would have to go next, after Dorian had learned the full truth, especially about this “enemy” Ares was so frightened of.

“Sir, we’re at the drop zone,” the pilot called into Dorian’s headset.

Dorian peered out the narrow window. Water stretched out as far as he could see.

Dorian marveled. What he saw used to be the coast of Morocco.

“Drop the probe,” he said.

He raised the tablet and watched the telemetry on the split screen, which showed a contour of the new sea floor on the right-hand side and a video feed on the left. Dorian recognized a mountain top, completely submerged. He tapped the tablet, directing the probe. A few seconds later, the Atlantean ship, the
Alpha Lander
, came into view. It was buried deep.

“Mark it,” Dorian said.

They would find the airlock entrance after the dive.

“Form up for jump!” Dorian called to the six soldiers.

On the next pass, they spilled out of the aircraft, falling to the pitch-black sea at terminal velocity, their bodies formed into a dart, their hands held at their sides, oxygen tanks on their backs. Just as they reached the surface, the most recent storm receded and sunlight broke through, showering their entrance to the watery unknown with light.

Dorian plunged into the water and instantly spun himself about, searching for his men. One of them had veered too low and collided with the rocks just below the surface. His now broken body floated in the lighted murkiness.

The other five figures spread out, the sunlight carving their outlines in the water.

“Form up on me,” Dorian called over his intercom.

As the soldiers swam toward him, Dorian surveyed the dark water between them. Something else floated in the space. Not debris.

The silence in the water shattered. An explosion, then an eruption of white bubbles and air engulfed him, throwing Dorian into the submerged mountainside. He rolled across the rock, trying to grasp a handhold. Finally, he came to rest. His hands instinctively reached for his oxygen tank. It was intact. He was safe. He turned, peering into the water. The chaos was clearing. Four of his men still floated in the abyss. They called over the radio, sounding off, then awaited his order.