David Sakmyster - The Cydonia Objective

And besides, came a voice that wasn’t his. There are other routes to knowledge. And a succession of majestic structures hurtled through his vision: great pillared repositories set in the unlikeliest of settings: lunar monasteries, crimson landscapes, frozen wastes under alien stars.

It’s all out there, waiting for us.

Caleb shoved the spear in farther, twisted, then wrenched it free.

“NOOO!” Calderon shouted in his mind, and reached for him, but Caleb swung the spear free in a wide arc, slashing Calderon’s ethereal form across the neck. A disembodied, glowing head went sailing into the gloom just as the tablet exploded with such force that Caleb was hurled ten feet back, just as the machine tore apart and pieces scattered in all directions.

Gasping, dropping the spear which was now too hot to hold, his fingers scalded, Caleb stood up, only to be surrounded by six soldiers pointing MP5s at his face.

“Stop!” yelled Senator Calderon, now leaning on his cane, standing over Isaac’s body. “It’s over,” he said. Not to the guards, not to Jacob or Nina or Alexander, but to Caleb.

“It’s over,” he said again, and added a wink and a smile.

Alexander raced past him and slid by the guards to throw his arms around Caleb. “Dad!” Then, lower: “Don’t worry, I saw it all.”

Calderon’s voice cracked then sounded more urgent as he addressed the guards. “Go, get medical help.” He leaned down beside Nina, and curiously, took her hand in his. Through glazed eyes, she smiled at him. Jacob knelt beside his brother and bowed his head.

Caleb stood up warily. “What the hell is going on?”

Alexander pulled on his arm, and when Caleb bent down, Alexander whispered in his ear.

Then Calderon turned, reached over and closed Xavier Montross’ eyelids. “Sleep tight, old friend.” He stood, faced Caleb and spread out his arms, as if feeling for the fit of a new suit.

“I don’t believe it.” Caleb just stared, wide-eyed.

“He’s right, my dear half-brother. Not a bad trade overall.” Xavier Montross, speaking through his new flesh, grinned. “And now that I’m a powerful senator, things are going to go a little differently.”

Seattle, Washington—12 Hours Later

When Caleb finally left the hospital room, it was only after a promise, doubly made, that he would not leave Nina this time. That he’d be back to check on her in a few hours.

“And besides,” Caleb had said, leaning over and brushing her dark curls away from those penetrating eyes that for the first time displayed a sense of weakness, “Jacob wants to spend some time getting to know you.”

He had backed up, and then let the boy come closer. Jacob pulled up a chair and leaned in, eager to hear more of his mother’s stories, the ones she could tell just by touching him, with little effort.

Caleb eased the door shut behind him, and went to the conference room that Colonel Temple had secured for their use and debriefing. Temple had his arm in a sling, and the others were all in some form of recovery: bandages, tired eyes, covered in dust and filth.

“Looks like we could all use a good hosing down and a night’s sleep at the Ritz,” Temple said, “but that’ll have to wait.”

Phoebe came over and gave Caleb another big hug. “Good to have you back, big brother.”

Caleb squeezed her tight, then let go and nodded to Orlando. He shook hands with Diana Montgomery and offered the same to the girl, Aria, but she merely high-fived him and went back to whispering and giggling to Alexander, who was blushing profusely.

“Alexander? Made a new friend, I see.” Caleb took a seat across from his son, who just grinned sheepishly. “It’s okay,” Caleb said, “just stay where I can see the both of you. If you’re out of my sight and I go looking and only see blue, I’m going to be mad.”

Phoebe kicked him under the table.

Orlando, finishing his second Red Bull, licked his lips and grinned foolishly at Phoebe. “Still, I may have to borrow your talents, Miss Hummingbird, from time to time.”

Phoebe glared at him. “Don’t you dare try to hide from me. Or I’ll go dig up that Spear—wherever you hid it, big brother. Seriously, I’ll find it and—”

Just then, the door banged open.

And Senator Calderon walked in, closing the door behind him.

“Ah, good. You’re all here.” He walked inside, leaning slightly on a new cane, this one carved from a knobby pine. “Stupid limp. Guy should’ve taken better care of himself.”

Smiling at Diana, he took a seat beside her, and after a moment she took his hand in hers.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” she said.

“I’ll get his body in better shape,” Montross promised.

“I can wait,” she whispered. “As long as I’ve got you back.”

“So,” Temple asked breaking the awkward moment. “Senator. What was their answer?”

Calderon-Montross smiled and took a moment to answer. “How could they refuse me? Apparently I’ve got half the country’s leaders in my pocket, or dying to get there. Influence is too tame a word.”

Caleb looked around, confused. “Sorry, I’ve been in seeing to Nina’s recovery. What’s going on?”

Temple sighed. “Only my retirement.” He leaned back, rubbing his neck with his good hand. “From direct involvement, at least. Getting too old for this. Time for new blood.”

Caleb blinked at him, then at Montross. Everyone else in the room seemed to be smiling at some inside joke.

“Congratulations,” Montross said. “Caleb Crowe, you are now the new acting head of the Stargate Program.”

Caleb nearly fell off his chair. “What? No, I couldn’t, not after—”

“You can,” said Temple.

“And you should,” said Montross. “I know they royally screwed your dad, and Waxman did what he did, but you have a chance to do it your way.”

Caleb looked at Phoebe and Orlando for help. “But the Morpheus Initiative—”

“—can still exist, just merge it in with Stargate.”

“Bigger budget, more resources,” Phoebe said.

“Better benefits,” Orlando added, shaking his empty can. “Maybe get us a decent health plan?”

“Think about it,” Temple said. “I’ll stay on and help as an advisor. But you’re the man with the skill. You, Phoebe, Orlando. Montross and Nina. Alexander. You guys were way ahead of us, and sure I’ve done okay with recruiting, but you… You can do this the way it should be done.”

Caleb looked helplessly from Phoebe’s smiling face to Montross, his eyes shining more and more like the true Montross.

“Do it,” the senator said. “Because I’m going to need your skills very soon. Yours, and a lot of others’. We’ve got to build this big, because the threat’s not over.”

“What do you mean?” Caleb asked, his head still spinning.

“The threat,” Montross said, “and the opportunity.”

“The Custodians,” Phoebe said. “They’re still here. And what they are scares the beJesus out of us.”

“I thought you said they saved you. Both here and in Afghanistan.”

“I did. They did.” Phoebe sighed, leaning in across the table. “But the one told me that they ‘weren’t what they seemed’.”

“And some of us,” Orlando said, “we got impressions, hits of different kinds of stuff. Scary impressions…”

Alexander added to the discussion: “Like maybe there are two sets of these beings lurking around.”

“Some,” said Montross, “that are watching out for us, maybe even encouraging us mere mortals on the path back to wisdom…”

“Others,” said Phoebe, “more like the Old Testament nasty gods who want to keep us down. Divided, with our link to the eternal forever denied.”