“Okay then,” Phoebe said after tearing her eyes away and blinking as if to rid her irises of the grainy Martian sands. “I guess we know our objective.”
Orlando grinned at the screen. “Big Red. The God of War, Ares to the Greeks, Mars for the Romans, and…”
“Knock it off,” Phoebe quipped. “You’re not my brother.”
“No,” Temple said, “but you’ll do just fine. Orlando, I’d like you to go and assist the Dove in his search. Both of you together should be able to crack this thing, get around those shields and see what’s really down there.”
“You mean Google Mars isn’t accurate?”
Temple rolled his eyes. “Please.” He turned to Phoebe. “I won’t even get into the layers of disinformation and outright data manipulation, but in all honesty, despite a few badly eroded surface monuments, what’s really of interest is, I believe, under the surface.” He turned to Phoebe. “I’d ask you to go too, but I’d spare you what could be rather… awkward company.”
Phoebe nodded. “Thanks. I gather he doesn’t see many girls on a day to day basis.”
“Not in the flesh, no.”
Orlando clapped his hands. “All right, I’m off to see the Dove. Or as I would have called him–”
“Please don’t say it,” Phoebe begged, shaking her head.
“-Big Bird.”
Orlando chuckled to himself and headed out, while Phoebe rolled her eyes at Temple. “See what I have to live with?”
Temple managed a smile. “Now, for you. I’d like you to—”
His phone chirped. “Hang on a sec.”
But as he reached for it, Phoebe swooned and had to grab the nearest table edge. She looked up sharply just as his eyes met hers and he spoke into the phone. “Talk to me.”
He nodded, then again. Then said: “When was this? Okay, get me a secure channel to Eielson Air Force base. Commander Maxwell. Have him call me back in three minutes.”
When Temple disconnected the call, Phoebe searched his eyes. “My brother! I saw him!”
He studied her carefully. “Where?’
Phoebe almost choked on the word. “Falling.” She swallowed hard. “From a plane.”
Temple nodded, his face grim. “They were shot down just north of Vancouver Island.”
“And…?” Phoebe’s heart was racing. “What else did you hear? Because I saw nothing! They were falling towards something below, on the water, something…” She rubbed her head. “I don’t know! Then it all just went blue again!”
“Blue? You’re sure?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“No, but that I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“I believe they fell together, or they jumped out of the plane before it was attacked.”
“They? Who do you mean?” Phoebe blinked, then winced as she eyes closed for a second. “Nina! It was her I saw falling before him.”
“Yes, it was her plane. She may have been taking him to HAARP.”
Phoebe frowned. “I… don’t think so. That’s not the sense I had. Plus, they were shot down, and not by your guys, right?”
“Right, which I suppose indicates that Nina may have had a change of heart.”
Phoebe looked down. “Still don’t trust that bitch.” Her eyes lifted. “But you think they survived?”
“If you can’t see them, then it might mean something else is acting in their vicinity. Something that’s clouding your sight.”
Phoebe blinked, then glanced over Temple’s shoulder, to the side area where Aria sat talking to Diana.
“Something,” Phoebe said, focusing on the NASA scientist, “that might be powerful enough to keep them hidden—and maybe even safe.”
Orlando knocked, softly at first, then a little louder. Shrugged, then pushed his way inside. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then… a squeaking, and the great bulk that was the Dove turned in his massive ergonomic chair.
“Ah, so it’s to be babysitting duty, is it?”
“Uh,” Orlando stammered. “That colonel guy said I’m supposed to help out here.”
The Dove let out a belch. His eyes, serious and dark, focused on Orlando for an uncomfortable moment. Then he brushed crumbs off his bulging gut, grinned and pointed to a plain-looking metal chair in the corner. “Pull up a seat, amigo. Let’s see what we can see.”
Orlando nodded, wrinkling his nose at the smell of Cheezits, and stepped over a collection of Hostess Twinkie wrappers. “Okay, so it must be the maid’s day off?”
“Cute.” The Dove clicked some buttons on the arm of his chair and the giant screen on the far wall flickered to life. And The Face came into focus, stopping Orlando in his tracks. “Never seen it that big, have you?”
“Or in that much detail. I thought we didn’t have these kind of images. And the last one was all kinds of fuzzy. Looked like crap.”
“Exactly like some weather-eroded three hundred million year old mountain would expect to look, right?”
Orlando nodded. He reached the chair and started dragging it back as The Dove clicked and moved a joystick, and the image zoomed in on the Face’s left eye. “Of course they don’t show you the good stuff, the stuff they can’t understand. Everything else—everything released out to the world and to Google—all clever manipulations. Like you’ve probably heard from now, certain people in certain positions have known for years that something was out there long ago. Something that apparently hasn’t stuck around.”
“Or else it got blown up long ago.”
The Dove’s huge head nodded. Beads of sweat cascaded down his cheeks like he’d just come in out of a rainstorm. “That’s the thought, except we all know that just like when you try to wipe out a bees’ nest, you never get them all. Some are out gathering stuff or just buzzing around, and they’re the ones that then go into hiding, waiting out the eons.”
Orlando sat down and looked at his empty hands, then glanced around the room. “Got a spare Tablet?”
“Nope.”
“Pad of paper?”
“Negative.”
“Napkin and crayons?”
Another shake of the massive head. “Just take a deep breath, focus on the eye there, and go to work.”
Orlando sighed. “So it’s going to be that kind of day. Demoted to the Dark Ages.” He crossed his arms, lowered his head and tried not to breathe through his nose. One last peek at the rounded dark cavity on the screen, and then he closed his eyes.
And…
Nothing.
Sighing, he kept focusing, thinking about Mars, about all that red stone, about the dust, and the winds. But something kept interfering. At first he expected the blue screen, even felt it converging a few times as his mind’s eye attempted to descend into the Face’s eye. Then he’d pull back and try another angle, another route. He tried focusing on recent lunar missions. The Martian Pathfinder, the Rover. The probes…
All that technology, he zeroed in on each one in turn, but in turn he was shot down by the screen of blue.
“Not doing so hot, are you?” Came the Dove’s voice. Orlando ignored him. Kept focusing, but the Dove’s heavy breathing and raspy, almost snore-like breaths were breaking his focus.
“Trying, but can’t get in through the eye. Are you sure-?”
“Keep at it, amigo.” A raspy snort. “I assure you, something wicked-cool is down there. It’ll blow your mind.”
A few more minutes, then… Finally, Orlando shook his head. He was about to open his eyes when another particularly obnoxious grunt from the Dove sent Orlando’s thoughts on a tangent.
His mind reached out tangentially to the sound, locked onto the Dove for a second and was sent spiraling off in a new direction, and all Orlando could do was hang on for dear life.