Decipher, p.53
Decipher, page 53
November grabbed hold of the first rope and shouted at the top of her lungs to be hauled up, leaving Gant to defend himself. The fastest approaching Golem leapt at them from several yards away, bringing its sword over its head to slice at them both in the process.
November screamed into her sonic weapon and obliterated the menace in mid-air, but their assailant had not been alone. Three pounced in on Gant and the marine had no choice but to make a jump for it. Planting his foot into the oncoming automaton’s face, he used the creature as a vaulting platform to flip up and grab hold of November’s leg.
November howled in terror, unaware of what was going on and loosened her grip. The palms of her hands felt like they were on fire as ropeburn ripped them to shreds, but she managed to hang on.
Gant gritted his teeth in anticipation as another Golem sprang at them, but spying some kind of post jutting down from the bridge, like the ones on top, he swung and kicked against it in an effort to dislodge their attacker.
It worked. The Golem slammed into the Carbon 60 post and simply clung there. Its whole body twitched and shivered as a slew of faces from the Var suddenly appeared under the glass to meet it head on and sucked their creation back inside.
The Golems on the ground faltered.
As the team on the bridge pulled their friends to safety, the Golems gathered below and stared up at them. Dissatisfied with the turn of events, one vengeful Golem made a last-minute bid to wreak disaster and leapt up after them both, extending his sword as far as it would go and slashing at the sole of Gant’s boot.
The blow was true and sure. Gant screamed in rage and agony as a gash opened up and blood poured from his foot. But it didn’t stop him from crawling over onto the hard floor of the bridge next to an exhausted November. He rolled to a stop, clutching his sliced-up foot and was met by a more than gleeful Pearce who commented: “Smarts, doesn’t it?”
Sarah checked over the warhead and its container. There was something odd about it which she just couldn’t put her finger on.
She studied the locks. They were busted—from the inside out, like something had crawled inside and expanded until the metal gave way. Sarah popped them cautiously and threw open the trunk.
She flinched in surprise.
Gant groaned as he got up. “What is it?” he demanded as he hobbled over, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
What he found was a pile of wires and busted parts, chewed components and burnt main boards. The warhead had been decimated.
Hackett peered over his shoulder. “And this was worth three lives, how?”
Gant dismissed him, angrily jamming his hands into the mass of junk and unsalvageable parts.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Sarah warned, but the marine wouldn’t listen.
“What happened to my bomb?” he cried desperately. “I was depending on my bomb! What happened to my warhead?”
But even as he said it, tiny glass spiders had emerged from the wreckage to make a direct attack on the man. Using long, needlelike teeth, they scampered across polished steel components and jabbed deep into Gant’s stress-ridden fingers.
The major screamed in agony, flinging the tiny creatures aside. Sarah recognized them as similar to the ones she had seen at Giza, but far more vicious. Instinctively she tipped the whole trunk over and spilled the lot onto the Carbon 60 floor.
In a flurry of high-pitched whines the tiny crystal spiders tried to make a run for it, but were caught in the grips of the low-frequency waves being pulsed out by elements within the Carbon 60 thoroughfare.
They exploded in miniature pops and whistles like Chinese firecrackers.
Gant hung his head in shame. “I’ve failed,” he said. “We’re screwed.”
But Scott, his back to the others, stood by the low wall of the bridge and looking out at the amassed congregation of angry automatons below, was quite sure they were not. “We’ll be fine,” he announced confidently. “I know we will be.”
With that he plunged his own sonic device firmly and deeply into one of the many recesses along the entire length of the wall and murmured something almost inaudible.
Belatedly, the Golems below became aware of what he was doing and scattered. Those at the far shores scrambled to safety. Others chanced it by leaping for the bridge, but if they were capable of reflective thought it was probable that they wished they hadn’t bothered. For as they clung to the crystal bridge and convulsed to their own doom, the water below them began to shimmer and sparkle as it regained a fluidity it had not seen in some time.
Those Golems still stuck out on the canal splashed beneath the surface and sank like a bunch of rocks.
Hackett was impressed. “Ever had that sinking feeling?” Scott was not amused so he took another stab at it. “Well, this place did sink one time before, I seem to remember. You’d think they’d be prepared for it.”
Scott still did not find it funny.
The waters were calm and still before them. Breathtakingly pure and clear, it was possible to see right to the bottom. Those Golems that had sunk to the bottom of the canal had disappeared. They had become quite literally invisible. The only way to make them out was to try and spot the odd shadow flitting about darkly against the lighter stonework below.
And when that had been achieved, one feature became startlingly clear: they were extraordinarily fast swimmers. And they were massing, coming together in a group and swarming.
It dawned on them all, but Matheson was the first to say it: “I don’t think that was such a good idea. I don’t think that was a good idea at all. We better get going.”
Gant glanced up from where he was sitting on the floor nursing his foot. “Go where?” he glowered.
Matheson jerked a thumb at Scott. “Go where he says, I guess.”
“And where is that … exactly?”
“I don’t know,” Matheson shrugged. “But he’s right, Major, we gotta get going.” He glanced back over the side. The mass of shadows was growing. “There is something so outta whack going on down there.”
Gant strained to get to his feet. It was clear he couldn’t put much weight on his damaged foot but he stood there with dignity and even straightened his uniform. “Why worry about it? Why don’t you get your buddy here to sort it all out since he seems to know so much about this place all of a sudden? How do we know he’s not turning into one of them and leading us into a trap?”
“That’s not fair!” Pearce interrupted, but Scott held up his hand to silence him.
“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “Look, Major, I’m plugged into this place. I am in constant communication with the machine. But I cannot see around corners. I only know where we’re going because I asked. I only know what to do—because I asked.”
Gant launched himself forward and grabbed Scott by the throat. “I have had about as much of this cosmic riddle as I can take. Now you tell me what lies ahead, nerd-boy, or so help me God I’ll throw you to those cute little fishes down there. Now—where—are—we—going?”
The others didn’t know what to do, but Scott didn’t seem as fazed as he might have been. He indicated the vast pyramid on top of the four large statues. “We’re going there,” he said. “That’s the control center.”
Gant’s grip tightened. “And what do we do when we get there?”
“You do nothing,” Scott explained. “I will go inside—and die.”
SACRIFICE
“Richard—you step into that chamber and you’re never coming back. What are you even talking about! What about your daughter? Think about her.”
“Ralph,” Scott smiled serenely, “unless somebody steps into that chamber, my daughter will die. All our sons and daughters will die.” He forced back a chuckle, giddy with excitement. “It really is that simple.”
“We have thirty minutes,” Pearce remarked earnestly, checking his timepiece with unflappable accuracy. “And this is the best solution you can come up with? Why do you have to die? I don’t understand.” He grabbed Gant’s arm. “Get your fucking hands off him. Richard, what gives here?”
“I will have to merge with this thing. The only way to teach it that we as a species survived the last flood and have developed sufficiently, is for two of us to physically join with the machine. Let it know us in our essence. The machine will connect with me at a subatomic level. It will form a bond like something akin to fusion. It will strip me of all outwardly visible humanity. For one brief moment I will continue to be human. But I will have all the resources and the accumulated knowledge of thousands of years of human history. Access to the records of countless civilizations at my fingertips.
“As the most modern addition to this great repository of knowledge, my twenty-first-century mind will provide all the current data about population centers, fragile ecosystems and any other zones around the earth that require special protection. I will be able to control and manipulate each wing within the global network and reach of this machine and will channel its energies to the most effective parts. The task this machine has been assigned is to turn our planet into one gigantic crystal. The seas, the air, and the liquid inner core of this entire planet will become one solid mass. Immovable. For one brief moment this planet will experience pure order in a solar system of chaos. I will avert our destruction. For one brief moment … I will be God … and then I’ll be gone.
“There will be no coming back. I will be dismembered, a particle at a time. I will become part of this … device. I swill become history. I will transform into pure information.” He paused to let them all consider this, then added: “We are approaching the time of Easter, the ancient festival of sacrifice and renewal. It is written in the very mythology of civilization that mankind’s future is based on the notion of sacrifice.” He smiled, such a knowing smile that it disarmed any wavering doubts the others may have had. “Like I said in my lecture when you met me for the very first time, Ralph and Bob … You must take all of the Bible, not just parts. And in that vein, I am taking all of the myths and legends, not just parts. It was written thousands of years ago that someone would have to die to save mankind. It may as well be me.”
Hackett narrowed his eyes. “You said two people must step into the chamber,” he noted, “not one. Who’s the second?”
“You noticed that, huh?”
“I notice everything.”
“One man must enter the chamber—and one woman.” Scott turned to Sarah. Held out a hand. “What do you think? Feel like playing Eve to my Adam? Want a shot at wiping the slate clean?”
Sarah looked at the epigrapher’s hand and hesitated for a moment. But she couldn’t help succumbing to that gnawing, nervous anticipation of giving herself over to one gigantic explosion of experiential wonderment.
Slowly, tentatively, she slipped her hand into his. Embraced his warmth, and felt contented.
“Now wait a minute!” Pearce thundered. “Has everyone gone insane?”
“Y’know, it’s actually funny,” Hackett mused, rubbing his jaw. “Studies have proved that suicides experience something akin to overwhelming joy just hours, even days before they finally blow their brains out, or slice up their wrists. It has something to do with the release. Knowing that everything will finally end. They will have attained, in their opinion, a solution.”
“Not that!” Pearce exploded. “Sacrifice? Are you nuts? If this is about that shit in your leg, Richard, we can take care of that. We can remove it! Okay, so you might have to lose your leg, but you’ll be alive.”
Hackett moved in closer to them. It was obvious he agreed.
“You don’t have to do this,” he pressed upon them firmly. “This is crazy. You have everything to live for. I, on the other hand—”
“hou?”
It was harsh, almost accusatory. But Hackett let it slip.
“Jon,” Scott said softly. “To you, it’s about the puzzle. The game. To you—it’s always been the puzzle.” Scott looked deep into the physicist’s eyes. Admired his friend, the curiosity and sincerity that burned in that man’s eyes. Yes, friend. In the final analysis, Scott concluded, he could call this man his friend. “Jon … for me, it’s always been about the answer. The ultimate knowledge. This way, I get it. I get my answer. About who we are. Where we come from.”
Hackett took it in with humility.
“You wouldn’t be content with just an answer,” Scott concluded. “You require the riddle.”
Hackett smiled. The same curious smile that had always so incensed Scott from the very first moment he had met him. And which now brought so much delight and gratification. There were a thousand and one questions rattling around in Jon Hackett’s mind. But out of respect he was asking none of them.
Scott appreciated that.
Instead, all Hackett said, sincerely, was: “To all things, there is a rhythm. Maybe this is the rhythm of your life.”
“Twenty minutes,” Matheson announced, looking down at the water. “Folks, we really oughta get the fuck outta here. I do not like what I’m seeing down there!”
And that was when the water rippled, parted and frothed as a huge crystal fin cut through it and came toward them. Followed by another. Then another. Until ultimately the sheer bulk of the merged single entity below was revealed before them, its fangs the size of tree trunks, its crystal scales iridescent and pearl-like.
Like the very serpent from the Book of Revelation itself—the incarnation of Satan—the vast Goliath-sized beast of the sea snapped its truck-sized jaws together in a thunderous clap, slithered its way over to them, reared up—and roared.
20 MINUTES
They ran like they had never run in their lives before.
The true Leviathan of Atlantis cut through the water as if it didn’t exist, reached over the bridge and when it failed to connect with its first strike, ducked underneath and reared its head up the other side.
It screamed in outraged fury and swiped again.
It missed. Its canoe-sized talons swinging just inches overhead.
It knew that it couldn’t strike directly downward and swat them like mere insects. And that fact alone frustrated it even more. It had to be careful too, about its line of attack. It had to be precise, jabbing its massive paw between tall spindly columns of Carbon 60 that seemed to have been placed there purely to foil the incredible beast.
As the seven ran, the Leviathan turned its swim into a backstroke so it could keep track of its prey while keeping pace with it.
It lashed with its tail this time, making a whipping attack across their paths in the hope they would run into trouble.
But they never did.
Instead, those with sonic devices merely pointed their weapons in the beast’s direction and shouted the sacred word with all the ferocity they could muster.
Vast dead chunks of crystal fell from the beast’s chest as it took direct hit after direct hit. It finally crashed to a halt, sending a tidal wave of water swelling into the shoreline buildings ahead. And as it screamed in agony the seven did all they could to remain upright and moving as the backwash swilled along the bridge and threatened to sweep them over and into the canal.
They headed directly for the continuation of the Carbon 60 thoroughfare beyond, lined with tall crystal buildings on either side and knew instinctively that at the very least, for this stretch of the journey they would be safe.
But the Leviathan had other ideas, for as the team headed off down the main road that was littered with icy glacial protrusions from where the cavern had still not truly receded in places, the creature lined itself up with a granite-paved side road and rushed toward it.
Its razor-sharp blade-like plates and fins aeroplaning sheets of water up into the air, it roared toward the dockside and at the last available moment—it shattered.
Tens of thousands of massive shards of crystal chunks were catapulted up the road. They bounced. Rolled. And using the momentum to their advantage, transformed into ten thousand more Golems—sprinting at full pelt.
Hackett was the first to notice this, as the thoroughfare leveled out. It was suddenly like taking a trip down a ghostly version of any downtown Manhattan street, and glancing over to notice that a horde of ghosts had decided to run the marathon parallel to them, just the next block over.
Not only that, they were much faster than the humans, and in all likelihood were about to head them off at the pass.
Hackett stared straight ahead, felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins.
And gulped.
Ahead lay a zigzagging path between glacial deposits. A route so confusing it was hard to tell at first in which direction they were going since their line-of-sight view of the central district, not far away now, was obscured.
And then it happened. The frightening prospect they had all been dreading and never voiced.
Though the way ahead clearly continued, the C60 path upon which they trod and upon which their lives depended, disappeared under sheets of ice. Sometimes the depth of that ice covering could be measured in mere, frustrating inches. But those inches crucially separated life from death.
And the Golems knew this.
As the ice undulated up and down in front of them like the gentle rolling of the countryside, the seven were confronted with squads of Golem search teams, pouring out from occasional side streets and meeting them head on, taking up attacking postures on the brows of the hills.
Zihamtu! Zihamtu! Zihamtu!
The obstructions were removed. But it wouldn’t be long before their luck ran out.
When they reached the second canal, a much narrower affair than the first, they were relieved to find that all that ice actually worked in their favor, obscuring them from view as they journeyed across the wide open space toward the center.
And so it was with ten minutes to spare before the sun was due to trumpet its last gravity wave, that the seven remaining members of the Antarctic Team found themselves descending into the streets of the inner circle of Atlantis, passing by the spectacularly vast and imposing statues, which in turn supported the incredible crystal pyramid some 200 feet above their heads.
