Thomas Greanias - Raising Atlantis

“They’re aligned to the obelisk like the heavens over Antarctica in the present day,” he said conclusively, as if there could be no debate.

“Which I suppose must surely be the most worthy moment in human history,” she said, “because the great Conrad Yeats is alive and he discovered it.”

Conrad smiled. “Finally, we agree on something.”

Serena looked at him with scorn. “Has it dawned on you that maybe you’re the biggest jackass of all time and that this is humanity’s most ignoble moment if you remove that obelisk?”

It had indeed dawned on Conrad, and now he was getting annoyed with her.

“Think about it, Serena,” he told her. “If what you’re saying is true, then P4’s builders knew that only an advanced civilization with sophisticated technology could even locate this pyramid, much less penetrate it. It’s our advancement that makes us noble. So this moment simply must be the most worthy time, and this obelisk is the key to the knowledge of the origins of human civilization.”

“Or maybe it’s a Trojan horse,” she said. “Maybe that obelisk is like the hour hand of a clock, the pin in a grenade. You remove it and our day is over, Conrad.”

“Or maybe you’re afraid the Church is going to lose its place as the arbiter of Genesis,” he said, having heard enough of her hysterics. “Maybe it’s time to let go of ignorance and fear and make way for a new day of enlightenment.”

Conrad looked at Yeats, who gestured to the obelisk.

“Just pick up the goddamn scepter, son. Because if you don’t, there are dozens of armed Russians outside this chamber who might, and God knows how many more UNACOMers on the ice.”

Conrad glanced at Serena and approached the Scepter of Osiris. He could feel her fear as he placed his hands on the obelisk. It felt smooth, as if the inscriptions were beneath its surface.

“You’re dreaming, Conrad, if you think your father is going to let you walk out of P4 with that scepter,” she said. “At least within the context of the United Nations, there’s a chance the rest of the world will know about your find.”

Conrad hesitated. He felt a weird floating sensation inside, something he couldn’t explain. Reaching for the obelisk, he could feel tiny vibrations radiating from it. But then he pulled back.

“What in God’s name are you waiting for?” Yeats demanded.

Conrad wasn’t sure. This was a once-in-a-millennium chance to make his mark in the sands of time and turn history on its head with a spectacular discovery. It was his one shot at immortality.

“I’m telling you, Conrad, don’t rush into this,” Serena urged him. “You might unleash something you can’t undo.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sister,” Yeats said. “Somebody is going to remove this obelisk, and it had better be Conrad. Because he’s the only one who can do it. If anybody is worthy, it’s him.”

“Allow me to be a character witness and tell you that you’re completely wrong,” Serena said. “Just because he’s your son doesn’t mean-”

“Conrad’s not my son.”

Conrad stopped cold. So did Serena. Even the Russian held his breath. A heavy silence filled the chamber.

“Fine, you’re his adoptive father,” Serena said quietly, apparently sympathetic to Conrad’s sensitivity to the subject.

“Not even that.” Yeats shed his supply pack and started to rummage through it.

Conrad stared at his father, wondering what sort of revelation he was about to produce. Why now, of all times? Conrad thought. Why here, of all places?

“He is.” Yeats held up a digital camera.

“You have his picture?” Conrad looked at the digital image in the viewing screen. It was a picture of the Seal of Osiris from the floor of the geothermal chamber.

“This is your father,” Yeats said.

Conrad stared at the figure of the bearded man inside the mechanical-looking throne and felt something stir deep inside him, from a place he never knew existed.

“What are you saying?”

“I found you in a capsule buried in the ice more than thirty-five years ago,” Yeats said in a grim voice that rattled Conrad to the bone. “You couldn’t have been more than four.”

Conrad was silent. Then he heard a giggle. It was Serena.

“My God, Yeats,” she said. “How dumb do you think we are?”

But Yeats wasn’t laughing, and Conrad had never seen the look in his father’s eyes that he did right now.

“You don’t need anyone to tell you what’s true, son,” Yeats said. “You know it.”

Conrad’s mind was racing. Yeats had to be lying. After all, Conrad had his DNA tested in search of his parentage, and there was nothing that would suggest he wasn’t a red-blooded American male. On the other hand, setting aside its utter implausibility, it explained everything about his lost early years.

“If this is a lie, then you’re one sick son of a bitch,” Conrad told Yeats. “But if it’s the truth, then everything else is a lie, and I’ve never been anything more to you than a science project. I’m damned either way.”

“Then save yourself now, Conrad,” Yeats said. “I was the same age you are when Uncle Sam scrubbed the Mars mission and took my dream away from me. I never had a choice. You do. Don’t be like me and regret losing this opportunity for the rest of your life.”

The dirty trick worked. As Conrad stared at Yeats, he could behold a cracked reflection of his future self should he fail now. It was a visage that made him shudder.

Serena seemed to sense she had lost the battle. “Conrad, please,” she begged.

“I’m sorry, Serena,” he said slowly as he began to twist the obelisk in its socket. As he did, the curved walls of the geodesic chamber began to spin and the constellations above them changed. With a dull rumble, the floor itself began to rotate.

“We need more time to figure this out,” Serena screamed, lunging for him. “You just can’t make a decision for the rest of the world. You’ve got to wait.”

But Yeats stopped her cold with the barrel of a Glock in her face. “Like Eisenhower stopping on the banks of the Elbe when he should have beat the Russians to Berlin in 1945?” he said. “Or Nixon pulling the plug on the Mars mission in 1969? I don’t think so. Decisive force was required then, and it is now. I’m not stopping anywhere short of my mission’s objective.”

Conrad glanced at Serena trying to squirm out of Yeats’s arms. “Don’t do it, Conrad. I swear-”

“Stop swearing, Serena,” he told her. “You’ll only break another vow.”

Reaching for the obelisk with both hands, he told himself that this opportunity was simply too irresistible to pass up. And if he let this moment go, then he might as well count his life as over.

“Please, Conrad…”

Conrad could feel the obelisk easing away from the altar as he lifted it free and clear. He smiled in triumph at Serena.

“There,” he said with a trace of relief. “That wasn’t so-”

But the rest of his sentence was cut off by an ear-splitting crack.

“Oh, my God,” Serena breathed as a great rumbling overhead grew deafening.

The domed walls of the chamber spun at fantastic speeds like some cosmic coil ready to snap. Then, suddenly, the spinning stopped. The constellations locked, and an explosive shock wave rocked the pyramid.

Inside Ice Base Orionon the surface,Colonel O’Dell was playing poker with Vlad Lenin and two other Russians in the mess hall module when their plastic cups of vodka began to shake and the Klaxon sounded.

O’Dell looked at the puzzled Vlad. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the Russians. He darted out of the mess module, Vlad right behind him.