Antarctica
Through the habitat’s large picture window, Dorian watched the Immari crews disassembling the white caterpillar shaped buildings, along with the rest of Fortress Antarctica. Ares’ order to break down the camp was nearly as surprising as what he wanted them to do with it: drop it into the ocean.
For hours, the crews had been tearing apart the rail guns, buildings, and everything in between, loading the parts into the fleet of planes on the ice runway for disposal at sea.
Why? Dorian wondered. It made no sense—to build all this then toss it in the sea.
Ares had ordered Dorian to evacuate the remaining staff to the mountains of South Africa, where the new Immari headquarters would be established.
Behind him, a small group of middle managers, morons, and scientists argued over the details. Dorian had bowed out of the conversation early, unable to justify wasting his time. Their planning was pointless. They were simply doing Ares’ bidding. He had planned this sequence of events thousands of years ago, and he didn’t care to share any particulars of it, didn’t think Dorian was worthy.
“If the Isthmus of Panama is underwater, the Atlantic and Pacific have been joined again. All our models are wrong. Global sea currents are…”
Their models, Dorian thought, smiling.
“The axis is a bigger issue. We know the weight of the ice at the South Pole tilts the earth. If we’ve lost enough, the axis will shift. The equator moves—”
“Which would melt more ice.”
“Yes. We could be looking at a complete melt off. That could be the reason for the full evacuation.”
“Should we call up more personnel?”
“He didn’t say to—”
“It’s implied in our mandate. Full evacuation at best speed possible.”
A technician approached Dorian. “General Ares has asked for you to join him in the ship.”
Dorian desperately wanted to tell “Lord Ares” where to shove his summons, but he simply trudged out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, he was two miles below the surface, inside the expansive Atlantean ship, standing in a room he had never seen before. Ares stood at a terminal that scrolled text in a language Dorian couldn’t read.
“I know you’re not happy with me, Dorian.”
“I salute your penchant for understatement.”
“I saved lives today.”
“Really? I’m sure my primitive earthman math can’t hold a candle to your advanced Atlantean calculus, but I count millions of bodies floating in a toxic soup all over the planet as lives lost. But hey, that’s just me, your humble pet caveman here.”
Dorian sensed that Ares wanted to reprimand him, strike back at him as he had in the corridor, but the Atlantean restrained himself. He needs me for something, Dorian thought.
“I didn’t tell you the plan because you would have tried to stop me.”
“No. I would have killed you.”
“You would have tried. So in not telling you, I’ve saved your life—once again.”
“Again?”
“I’m counting my genetic interventions that led to your species in the first place. Now for the matter at hand. We control the world, Dorian. We have won. Now we will build an army and win the future. There is an enemy out there. It’s only a matter of time before they find this world. You will not survive—unless we work together. We can save the survivors of this flood. We can lead our people off this world to meet our enemy, surprising them, winning our right to exist in the universe.” He turned, pacing away, letting the words sink in.
When Ares spoke again, his tone was gentler. “If I hadn’t done what I did today, every person on this world would have perished. We’ve sacrificed lives today, but in war, you must sacrifice lives to win—and you must win to preserve your civilization and your way of life. Losers don’t write history. They’re burned, buried, and forgotten.”
“You started the war out there.”
“The war out there started thousands of years ago; you just can’t see the battle lines. They reach the length of this galaxy, crossing every human world.”
“What do you want from me?”
“You have a role to play, Dorian. You’ve always known that. When we’ve defeated our enemy, you can return here and do whatever you want with this world.”
“Wow. Let me just thank you for slaughtering millions of my fellow humans and giving me our screwed up world. You’ve been so helpful.”
Ares exhaled. “You still don’t grasp the magnitude of what you’re involved in, Dorian. But you will soon. Very soon.”
“As much as I appreciate this post-apocalyptic pep-talk, I’m getting this sneaking suspicion that I’m here because you need me to do something. And that’s the only reason I’m here.”
“I’ve never lied to you, Dorian. I’ve kept things from you—for your own good. You’re here because we have a problem.”
“We or you?”
“My problems are your problems. Like it or not, we’re in this together now.”
Across the room, a panel flickered to life, and an image of what Dorian thought was a dark gray space station appeared.
“What is that?”
“The beacon.”
“Beacon?”
“It’s a specialized communications array. Research teams and our military deploy them. They shroud worlds, blocking all incoming or outgoing communications and light, essentially hiding what’s occurring on that world. This beacon has been orbiting Earth for the last one hundred fifty thousand years. It’s the only reason any of us are still alive.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that our enemy is trying to disable it. And if they succeed, if that beacon is destroyed or turned off, they will be here in days, and they will slaughter every last one of us.”
Dorian stared at the floating gray station. “I’m listening.”
Ares walked closer to Dorian. “Let’s try this your way. What would you like to know?”
“Why now?”
“A message was sent fourteen days ago.”
“Janus.”
“He used his access codes to send a message when he was on the scientists’ deep space vessel just before he destroyed it.”
“A message to our enemy?”
“I doubt it. I can’t see his message, but I assume it was intercepted by our enemy. They likely know the general vicinity it came from but not the exact world. They sent their reply to every suspected world, customizing the address to make the recipient think it was tailored for them. They’re just waiting for a response or for one of the beacons to go out. You have a term for this?”
“Yeah. Shaking the bushes.”
“They’re shaking the bushes,” Ares said.
“What’s the problem? As long as we don’t respond or disable—”
“The problem is that someone just tried to access the beacon from the Alpha Lander—the scientist’s ship off the coast of Morocco. What’s left of it.”
“Kate and David.”
“I assume so. If I’m right, they’re on their way to the beacon right now. There’s a portal with access within the section of the ship they’re confined to.”
“Confined?”
“They should be completely submerged by now.”
“If they reach the beacon…”
“They could either send a reply message—directed at the origin—or simply disable the beacon. If they do that, our enemy will be upon us in days. You must stop them from reaching the beacon.”
“They have a head start.”
“Yes. If you can’t intercept them in the Alpha Lander, follow them to the beacon. The portal in the Alpha Lander is keyed for your Atlantis Gene print.”
“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.”
CHAPTER 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