The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery, #2)

He stalked out of the room, to a lab. He programmed the cases, then picked up a silver cylinder that contained the final therapy.

He donned the suit and exited the ship.

The area outside was an ice cathedral, just as he had seen before.

He set the case down and tapped a few places on his arm, on a control panel built into the suit. Slowly, the case changed. It seemed to flow together, and then the silver-white fluid that had been an alloy swirled at the ground and moved higher, swaying back and forth, like a cobra emerging from a basket. Two arms separated from the silver column, then clashed together. Tendrils reached across until the glowing door was complete. Instinctively, Dorian knew what it was: a wormhole. A gateway to the exact point he needed to reach.

Dorian stepped through.

He stood on a mountaintop. No, it was more than a mountain. A volcano. Tidal waves of liquid rock burned and churned below. A tropical paradise spread out across the islands that surrounded it.

He held the cylinder out, then dropped it into the soup of liquid rock.

What was this?

His mind seemed to answer. A backup plan. If I fail—if I’m trapped on the scientists’ vessel—the genetic transformation will still go forward. It would only be a matter of time before the volcano erupted, shooting the therapy into the air and then raining it down around the world.

He set the other case down and it formed another door. He stepped through it.

He emerged on the bridge of the scientists’ vessel. It was buried of course, but he could quickly remedy that.

He accessed the controls, turning the ship’s systems on one by one. He turned his head.

Did he feel…

The air… it was draining. Yes, he could feel it now.

Dorian had known that it was a risk—that the scientist could try to trap or kill him, but he had no choice but to take the risk. Waiting would have served no purpose. He tried to focus on the crisis at hand.

How long did he have?

He raced out of the bridge. His mind combed through the options.

The shuttle bay. No. He had nowhere to go. The ship was at least two hundred meters below the surface, maybe more. What was protocol?

Did they have any portal-making technology on board? Were they allowed to carry it? Even if they did, he would never find it.

EVA suits. Yes, a suit would have oxygen.

He could feel the air growing thinner by the second. He stopped and pressed his hand against the wall, activating a ship map. EVA suits. Where would they be? Near an airlock.

His breath grew raspy.

He swallowed, but he couldn’t quite get it down.

He worked the map. He needed another option. Medical. It was close.

He stumbled down the hall. The doors parted, and he collapsed inside.

A bank of six shimmering glass tubes spread out before him.

He crawled.

How fitting, he thought. To spend eternity in a tube, far below the surface. That is my fate. I cannot escape it. I will never greet death, never fulfill my destiny. My army will never rise, and I will never rest.

The tube opened.

He crawled inside.





Dorian was again in the helicopter. The wind blew across his face, and the roar of the rotor blades thumped in his ears.

For the first time, it all made sense. The pieces fit together; the entire picture was clear.

The portal in Germany. It led to the ship, to Ares. Brilliant.

Kate. She had the Atlantean scientist’s memories. She could unlock the ship and free Ares. Together, Ares and Dorian could complete their work on Earth and transport their army to the final war. Victory would come soon after.

Dorian stared at Kate. She sat across from him, her eyes closed.

Ares’ words echoed in his mind. She’s the key to everything. But you must wait. At some point very soon, she will acquire a piece of information—a code. That code is the key to freeing me. You must capture her after she has the code and bring her to me.

Dorian marveled at Ares’ genius. The realization, the full appreciation of the Atlantean’s plan struck him. He felt… awe. Dorian finally felt as though he had an equal. No, a superior. But Ares was something more. Dorian knew it now: Ares had designed the entire process partly for him—for Dorian’s own growth. The charade in Antarctica, his challenge to find Kate Warner. It was as though Ares was… mentoring Dorian. But it was even more than that. Ares was more than a mentor to him. Dorian had a part of Ares inside of him, his memories and more—his desires, his unrealized dreams.

A father. That was the most apt term. That’s what Ares was to him.

And they would be together again soon.

Dorian tried to imagine their reunion, what he would say, what Ares would say. And after… what else did Ares have left to teach him? What would Dorian learn about himself? He knew it now. That was his true desire—to finally unravel the greatest mystery of all: how he had come to be what he was.

Ares and the answers waited beyond the portal. They would reach it soon.





CHAPTER 93


CDC

Atlanta, Georgia


Paul Brenner opened the door and walked to his nephew’s bedside. The boy was still.