Batman slipped open a pouch on his Utility Belt and pulled out a pair of miniature binoculars. Taking his eyes off Green Lantern for the first time, he trained the 50X binoculars down the valley, tracking the massive spoil-pile that marked out Superman and Wonder Woman's progress. They had almost reached the outskirts of the city, a feat of power akin to building the Great Wall of China in a morning.
Marveling at the sheer strength that allowed them to excavate this engineering wonder with their bare hands. Batman snapped the binoculars shut and replaced them in their pouch. These beings can shift planets in their orbit, he'd thought more than once in his many years as a League member. What am I doing working with them?
Manhunter and the Flash reappeared silently by his side. The site was clear. It was time.
This is it, Lantern, Batman thought. Let the dam go!
The energy field faded and vanished, and Green Lantern shot high into the air under the power of his ring.
For an endless second, nothing happened. No water spouted from the holes. The cracks in the dam face seemed frozen, checked in their relentless expansion.
Then, with a roar like some maddened behemoth, the waters broke free. There was a thunderous snap, like a giant whip cracking, and, almost in slow motion, the whole dam face crumbled into little more than a sandpile.
A mighty cataract of seething, roiling water poured from the collapsing dam, carrying thousands of tons of concrete with it. A wall of water fifty feet high swept into the craggy valley side, gouging out a half-mile section. The wave crashed over the hydroelectric plant with the intensity of a tsunami, smashing down walls and buildings as if they were toy bricks.
As Batman had realized, there was no way the tail-race and riverbed could cope with the sudden inundation. The angry waters churned as they plunged into the channel dug by Wonder Woman and Superman, spilling over the sides in massive waves, scouring away the earth and soil of the valley sides, ripping out century-old trees, carrying away rocks as big as houses.
But the channel held, funneling the waters until a ten-foot-high wave raced down it at almost a hundred miles an hour.
Minutes later, Superman and Wonder Woman hovered in the air over the city harbor, watching as the waters of Lake Gotham swept through and plunged headlong into the sea. If any ships were put in danger, they wanted to be on hand.
"Excellent." Wonder Woman nodded her satisfaction. The setting sun glinted off her tiara and the amulets she wore on her wrists, making her look every inch the Amazon Princess that she was. "There's no damage caused except the digging of the channel itself, and we can fill that in once the waters recede."
She soared higher in the air, beckoning for Superman to follow. "Let' s join the others."
Seconds later, they stood with their companions on the crag, looking down on the scene of destruction. More than half the dam had disappeared, carried off by the raging flow. The surging waters had settled slightly, but it would take days for the man-made lake to drain off completely.
"So . . . why wouldn't you let us fuse the dam?" Superman asked Batman.
"There were suspicions when the dam was built," Batman told them all. "Substandard materials. For every rip you fused, a dozen others would have opened."
Batman turned away, then thought better of it as he recollected J'onn J'onzz's subtle reminder that they were a team. "I wasn't withholding information from anyone," the vigilante continued. "There just wasn't time to explain. All in all, we did a good job."
"Maybe better than you think," the Flash grinned. "We might even be rewarded for services to archaeology. Look down there–"
He pointed to the valley side just below the dam, where the broiling water had swept away thousands of tons of soil and vegetation.
Revealed there, in the last bright rays of the setting sun, stood a hundred-foot-tall truncated stone pyramid. It seemed out of place–so alien and enigmatic. Shafts of mellow purple light played for a moment across its stonework. Then the sun was gone, and the pyramid remained shrouded in darkness.
CHAPTER 2
Descent into Darkness
Gotham County, October 19
"Incredible!"
Jenny Ayles stood on the top of the pyramid, a flat platform about thirty feet square, her head turning slowly to take in the panoramic views. Night was falling, and the surrounding Gotham Hills seemed to glow deep purple in the fading light. The planet Venus shone brightly just above the horizon, and the first stars were already twinkling softly in the rapidly darkening sky.
"This view can't have changed all that much since the pyramid was first built."
Beside her, Jenny's companion nodded agreement. "Nearly five thousand years," Peter Glaston murmured. "More than a hundred and fifty human generations." He glanced up, raising his right hand to point to the brightest star. "Of course, the land might be the same, but the night sky was very different. Polaris wasn't the Pole Star then. It was one of the stars in the constellation Taurus, I think."
"And tonight we'll find out if the ancients recorded what they saw in the architecture of their pyramid," a skeptical voice broke in from behind them. "Right, Peter?"
Jenny and Peter started. They hadn't realized Robert Mills, professor of archaeology at Gotham University and leader of their little expedition, was standing so dose. Instantly, Peter became defensive at the faintly mocking tone in the older man's voice.
"You might find it far-fetched, Professor," Peter said evenly, his lanky frame turning to acknowledge Mills's presence, "but you can't deny it is a possibility. And you've always taught
