David Sakmyster - The Cydonia Objective

“…the dark side of the Moon?”

After wandering in the darkness, a black so pervasive he couldn’t see anything in front of his face, not even knowing which direction was up, Alexander shifted his perspective. Looking in a direction he at first insisted was down, his brain finally perceived the tiny lights above as stars and not reflective coins in the depths of some bottomless sea. A moment later, realization set in and he understood he was either dreaming or remote viewing.

This wasn’t the vault in Alexandria, where he was surely still pinned beneath that table and the body of one of the Keepers—Rashi, who had thrown herself over him at the last instant before the ceiling collapsed.

This was somewhere else . A vast, black surface that suddenly wasn’t so perfectly dark, as if his eyes were adjusting, filtering and refining the starlight so he could see…

He was standing inside a shallow crater. Impossibly shallow, and more like a trench ripped through the shale, and in every direction he could see the rough outlines of bizarre geology: ridges sharply-protruding peaks, rocky hills thrust out of the land, dust and debris laying in their ancient poses, and suddenly…

His consciousness shot upward, and then skidded around the horizon, until the darkness abruptly merged with light, and around the lip of the orb—the familiar cratered surface—he was greeted with the gleaming blue-green hues of the Earth.

“Alexander…”

His dad’s voice. Weak, like it was spoken from the other end of a massive tunnel. Alexander shook his head, and was relieved to find he could do it. No broken neck or spine at least. But everything was dark, so dark…

He tried to sit up, but found someone was laying on top of him.

At first, with a choking sob, he thought: Mom? But then memories flitted back, descending into their respective pockets where they belonged, and everything fit right once again. The cave-in. The earthquake or whatever it was. Rashi… oh, Rashi…

He felt around her back, but could only move his hands so far before reaching something hard and cold like steel. Then he felt something wet and warm over her back.

“Rashi?”

Nothing.

Then again he thought he heard his father calling his name, but he shut it out for a minute, trying to see, really see . He relaxed, willed his mind to focus, and slipped back-

-to this very room, only minutes ago. Rashi looking up, alarm on her face as dust fell. Dad yelling, reaching for him, and then the ceiling dropping, the dome shattering down the middle. Huge chunks of masonry shorn into pieces, tumbling, crashing onto the table, pummeling the servers, an enormous beam, trailing sparks, slamming toward him. Then Rashi was there, throwing herself onto him just as she grunted and the lights went out.

But Alexander could still see, this time from a higher vantage point, in the gaping crater’s hole, looking down as the walls crumbled and car-sized boulders tumbled free, raining into the hole, piling onto the carnage. But somehow, the beam and several larger pieces of bedrock formed a jutting triangular incline that protected part of the chamber from total destruction. Just enough, he saw in a hazy night-vision light, to crawl out and be able to stand, maybe reach the terminals. But his father…

His vision skirted over the barrier, the wall of debris in the center of the Keeper sanctuary. There was Caleb, trying to lift an enormous slab with a metal bar. Sparks were flying from the ceiling, dancing around the alcoves where the scrolls hid like frightened children behind cracked windows.

“Dad,” Alexander whispered, ending the vision and returning to darkness. Then louder: “ Dad!” He shifted, reached up and felt Rashi’s neck.

No pulse, nothing.

Revulsion gave way to utter fear as the darkness reclaimed him. Shifting sounds in the room. The floor shuddering, beams groaning still. Please no aftershocks.

“Hideki? Belarus? Anyone? Can anyone hear me?”

“Alexander?” again, his father. A little stronger.

“Dad, I hear you!”

Silence, then: “Oh, thank God. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know. I’m trapped.” Under poor, poor Rashi.

“I know,” he said. “I saw. Rashi protected you. I saw you were pinned and not moving, but I didn’t know…”

“I’m okay.” He squirmed and was grateful for his natural skinniness when he found he could pull away gradually and slide out from under her. The beam shifted and dust and pebbles fell onto his face. Covering his eyes, he waited, not moving. Feel like I’m playing ‘Operation’. One wrong move and it’s game over.

“Can you see anything?”

“No,” Alexander shouted back. “At least, not with my normal eyes. But I RV’d and saw… I know I can’t get out of here on my own. I’m sorry, I can’t even get to you.”

He heard the metal bar drop. “I know, Alexander. I’m sorry. I saw that the floor collapsed, but the good news is that a lot of material ejected out of the crater.”

“How’s that good news?”

“Well, the stuff above you isn’t solid, and air’s getting in.”

Alexander took a deep breath, relishing the taste, however dusty. “So I won’t suffocate.” He pulled himself out farther, until only his left leg was still caught. Then it was free, and it felt good to be out. He stretched his legs, wiggled his toes. Then tried to sit up.

“Alexander?”

“Fine!” he shouted back, wincing through the effort. “Although everything feels bruised. I’m glad it’s dark, Dad. I don’t want to see—”

“Don’t think about it, not now Alexander.”

He nodded. Once again, face to face with death, but asked not to face it.

“Listen, son. You have to be strong, and you have to do something for me.”

Alexander got to his knees and reached above him, trying to see how much room there was, and whether he could stand.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes, Dad. And I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen it. The computer terminal, the servers.”

“That’s right. Now, there should be a flashlight somewhere, in the computer desk if it’s still in one piece.

After a long minute of fumbling and searching, scraping his fingers on sharp rocks and jagged pieces of masonry, banging his head on something, he touched a flat metal surface. Followed it around to locate a cold handle. Pulled it, reached inside, among a stack of papers, staplers, magnifying glasses.

“There it is.”

The light was painful and almost surreal, bringing into focus a twisted scene of incomprehensible shapes, angles and obstacles. Nothing that Alexander could recognize immediately; it was as if he’d been teleported to some alien prison cell.

“Alexander, do you have it? Can you see?”

“Yep, got it. Now what?”

“The computer . Is it…?”

“Here…” Alexander found the laptop, on its side, the top dented. He opened it and was relieved to see the screen saver functioning. Moved the mouse, and the password prompt appeared. “Working!”

“Okay, you remember the password?”

“Yeah.” Alexander smiled. He secured the flashlight under his chin, and angled his head so it was pointing at the screen. “Sostratus.”

He typed it in and he gained access.

“Good,” said his father. His voice seemed weaker, tired. Resigned. “Now, listen carefully. They’re going to be here soon. And they’re going to get what they really want—”

Alexander touched the charms around his neck. “The Keys. But maybe I could…”