The Cydonia Objective

Do you sense me? I’m here, I’m here! But you have to go, have to run. Hear me! Little girl, hummingbird! Tell them, warn them!

She wakes. It’s done. And hopefully there’s time.

Surging back now, closer. On the ice-swept dunes, roads barely cleared, a black Jeep Cherokee rumbles at full speed, tearing ahead toward Gacona. Inside: two familiar faces. Nina, Caleb. Hurry—

—Montross urged as his mind returned. He glanced up.

There was Calderon, furiously concentrating, aiming, wielding the device as if it was a part of himself, a hideous grin on his face.

Can they stop it? Montross wondered. Those occupants of the lights? Could they make it here in time, stop the firing sequence? He doubted it. If they could, surely they would have intervened by now.

Perhaps they weren’t powerful enough.

Or perhaps they are, Montross thought. But they just won’t get involved. Instead acting the part of gods wholeheartedly, letting those they watch over truly live or die according to their free will.

A blur, and Alexander was in motion. But Montross knew his intent, saw it first. The boy, his nephew, was going to attempt to knock Isaac down, take the cane and charge Calderon. Only, it wouldn’t work.

An abrupt, shocking image:

Alexander on his back, choking on his own blood, hands over his chest. A look of complete confusion and loss on his face.

Montross wasn’t sure if Isaac killed him or if one of the guards intervened to protect the senator, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Montross might not be able to save the world, but he could at least save one person, someone he had come to care about more than he ever imagined.

He moved, stepping in Alexander’s path, then he rushed Calderon.

Three steps away, Montross was sure he’d do it, he’d get in there and twist Calderon’s head, snap his neck, rip the Emerald Tablet free and then—

But that was when he felt a sharp prick, and at first thought he got stung by something. With the next step, however, just as Calderon’s eyes flashed in surprise, Montross felt a warm splash of liquid. And his left side went numb.

“No!” It was Alexander’s voice.

Then a chuckle, and Isaac moved into focus. Holding the cane with a sword point dripping red from its tip. Isaac’s grinning face angled down on him as Montross slipped on his own blood, fell to his knees.

Calderon’s voice: “Damn fool kid! We need him alive. Alive!”

“He is, dear father. He is.”

“Pull through, he will,” said Jacob at his other side. But his voice wasn’t as confident.

Alexander moved into view, his eyes pleading. “Stay with me, uncle Xavier! Stay.”

But Montross could only shake his head. Leaned forward and whispered: “Don’t give up. Your father’s coming.”

And then, as the machine rumbled and sparkled with emerald energy, as Calderon roared uncontrollably with the power he sent out as a conduit, a power surging on a path of destruction toward Mt. Shasta, Montross collapsed.

7.

Outside of Gacona—Twilight

Caleb lowered the binoculars. He shifted on his belly, crept backwards and stood back up when he was out of sight of the HAARP facility. “Can’t see anything through the snowfall.”

“Not with those eyes,” Nina said, watching with amusement as he brushed the snow off his chest. “Try your other skills.”

“Try yours. You should be able to zero in on your kids.”

“Our kids. Plus one of yours.” She leaned back against the Jeep Cherokee. “You’ve got better odds.”

“And skill, apparently. Even with my drawbacks.”

“Guilt. Self-oppression.” Nina snickered. “Do you slap yourself for fun or just wallow in your own loathing?”

“Knock it off and try to help. We’ve got to get in there, and undetected long enough to use this spear and destroy the Emerald Table before it’s used.”

“Hopefully they haven’t already done it. Those arrays are in motion, from what I can see through the storm.”

“Either way, let’s go.” He started back for the Jeep. “Maybe we just try the brazen frontal assault and see what happens. Maybe the spear will protect us.”

Nina laughed. “What’s the quote? ‘Heaven looks after fools, drunks and the United States’?”

Caleb sighed. “At least with the Spear on our soil, it seems the latter’s been pretty much true. Not sure about fools and drunks, but I’m not seeing an alternative to a foolish act at this point. And besides, with this snowstorm, we might get close without attracting attention.”

Shrugging, Nina followed, then set a hand on his shoulder as he was about to get in. Caleb turned, surprised, about to shrug away to avoid any psychic intrusion her touch might elicit, but instead, he found she had other plans.

Her other hand, fast as a bullet, whipped around the back of his neck, and before he could struggle, she pulled his face close and locked her lips on his.

And as the storm seemed to take note and surge in their direction, the ferocity of the icy wind was dulled by the heat in her touch. Caleb moaned, his legs went weak and his mind evaporated into her insistent caress, supplying visions of complete clarity, plucked from a short distance away.

A face in the snowstorm, only a face as the body is covered in a gossamer gown the color of the snow. Her hair, untouched by the flakes, and her eyes: deep green, lush like a forest of sweet-smelling pine.

Lydia.

It’s like she’s watching, but there’s no hint of jealousy. Closer and closer she comes, and now her breath exudes crystalline steam, so close as her eyes melt with emotion, with a mix of pity and urgency, as she speaks.

“Let go, Caleb.”

The viewpoint shudders. Flickers, and Nina’s appearance superimposes over Lydia’s.

The response floats over the howling wind. “I can’t.”

“Let go, and forgive.”

“Forgive her? Never!”

A hand raises and soft, warm fingers touch his frozen cheek. “Not just her.”

Another shudder, Nina and Lydia joining, two sets of matching green eyes boring into his mind. “Forgive…”

“… myself?”

Lydia-Nina smile. Fingertips linger on his cheek, brush his lips… Eyes shine once more as they retreat… then are lost in the swirling, screaming storm.

And the kiss is broken.

Nina pulled away, fighting a look of shock and dismay. “What was that?”