Caleb smiled back. “Yeah, well, we’re working on fixing that. Did it affect you too? Or were you already like us?” Had to be careful. How much did he know? How much could he ‘see’? Everything was in question now, everything fair game.
He wished he had Aria here, or the ancient sphere at this moment. Some protection against outside scrying. He felt so vulnerable. The sphere was with the twins, and maybe they would get it back soon, but there was no help in that direction right now.
“I don’t need the gifts you have, Caleb, and I am outside of the impact. Myself — and my brethren… you’ll meet them soon. We have a different skill-set. A long, long history of knowledge.” He grinned wide. “You remember that, don’t you Caleb? The true treasure you’ve sought all your life, whether it lay hidden in a vault under the Pharos Lighthouse, in a subterranean mausoleum, or under the red sands of Mars. You and me? We want the same thing.”
Caleb’s mouth started to go dry. He wanted a drink, but not just water. Not the way this talk was going.
“Wisdom?”
The President’s teeth flashed. “In abundance.”
“So, we both want to give wisdom to the masses?”
The smile expanded, and something like jade stones flashed behind his pupils. “Just like Prometheus himself.”
“Explain.” Got to keep him talking.
“You know the comparison is perfect. The god who—”
“Titan,” Caleb corrected.
A smirk of annoyance, then the President continued. “The Titan who risked it all and stole the gift of fire from the Gods. He flew down here to enlighten us poor sods living in the cold and the dark.”
Caleb weighed his words, aware of his sister watching him carefully, the dust settling along shafts of dying sunlight through the indigo shades. Aware of the buzz on his phone, Edgerrin replying; the sounds of traffic below. Horns and sirens. He noted movement behind the President. Secret service agents checking their earpieces and glancing at each other and the VP, who was standing to the side, holding his head and shaking still under his own flood of visions.
“So, you’re a near-god. A benefactor of mankind?” Caleb cocked his head. “I could be on board with that. So why the missiles, why go all annihilation on us when you claim to be in such a giving mood?”
The President shrugged and stepped back toward the desk and toward the console with the key, and a button, and Caleb feared — the firing sequence already prepared as a result of the DefCon advancement and the evacuation to the bunker.
“Really, Caleb, you must know, the subject so near and dear to you and Dad’s heart — too much has changed since the time of the Titans. Overpopulation, resource depletion, viruses and famine beyond control, and…”
“The Renaissance, modern science and the Space Program, the human genome mapping, the CDC and the universal library…”
“Blown to bits, if I recall.”
Caleb glared at him. “Not your doing? Or your ‘brethren’s’? Who the hell are you people anyway?”
“The good guys,” he said. “If you look at it right. We owe you, Caleb, and your Keepers. And Stargate. You held off the forces of darkness. You destroyed the jealous descendants of Marduk and the warriors of ignorance. You and I, we seek the truth, we seek the gift that had once been bestowed on God’s creation, before the Expulsion.”
Caleb narrowed his eyes, sensing his adversary was waiting for him to catch up. “Now we’re talking about Genesis and the Garden. The Tree—”
“The Tree of Life!” A huge smile as he reached back, toward the button. “Knowledge and all its power. Ultimate knowledge. Not just this…” He waved his free hand. “What you unleashed by removing everyone’s psychic blinders.”
He had to keep stalling. “What about the serpent?”
The President paused. “You must know the truth about that.”
“The theory, only. It was a story, a legend, but the snake represented the forces that wanted man to share in the ultimate wisdom of his Creator. And later forces of darkness, corrupting the Church and all religious teachings, twisted the facts and painted the snake as the Devil, and the knowledge from the Tree as Evil. It’s what got us kicked out of paradise, after all.”
“Exactly,” the President said, reaching back, even as guns were drawn.
They’re not going to stop him, Caleb thought. And for a moment, just a moment, he didn’t want them to. His words were contagious, his meaning clear. They were on the same page.
“It’s what you always wanted, Caleb. And I have the Key. Actually, the Keys…”
For another moment, he thought he was referring to the nuclear launch keys but realized that wasn’t the case.
“The gates will soon be open, and I will walk — with whoever I choose worthy — to the base of that wondrous tree, and I will take and eat of its fruit.”
He smiled, and his eyes shone, and in them Caleb could see a glimpse of the future, of that man in Red, lording over a decimated earth, sailing over it in a domed city, some kind of Elysium, full of green and waterfalls and floating transports, while the irradiated slaves toiled and scavenged below amidst the blasted sands and crumbling buildings.
Whatever else this madman might be, he had to be stopped. Caleb glanced at Phoebe, at the other agents here, at the ones in the bunker…
They wouldn’t make it in time, and who knew if they would hesitate, overrule their training on the say-so of someone like Edgerrin, whatever his NSA clearance or credentials. It was too late, and the man behind the President’s eyes knew it.
“This is the only way,” he said, and reached for the button…
The President never made it there. An inch before his finger touched he suddenly slumped, gagging, and both hands went to his throat — where an eruption of water came gushing out his mouth and nose. It sprayed over the camera, blurring the scene for a moment.
Caleb and Phoebe rushed forward, trying to see. They heard screams and guttural cries. Then gunshots. One after another. Flashes of light, and then…
Silence.
The water dripped away, leaving a blurry scene.
The President was down, and so was another agent.
Three men in suits stood over the downed agent while another bent over the President. He was still coughing, spurting up more water or bile.
“Help him!” the VP shouted, finally rousing himself and getting to his feet. But all of a sudden, his face contorted, he doubled over, spat up some liquid himself, then glared a vile glare at the camera.
His face was a mask of fear and fury. Like he was in a battle with someone other than himself. His body lurched for the control panel, for the switch, even as the agents changed their focus.
“Stop him!” Caleb yelled. Dear god he switched bodies!
An agent stepped in his way. “Sir, you can’t—”
Struggling to get past, to get to his objective, the VP turned to the screen, grimacing. “Well played, Stargate. But… I’ve expelled your intruder for now, and I won’t stop.”
He shoved the agent and leapt for the button.
This time, they had no hesitation. With the President down, with the Chain of Command in confusion and something clearly wrong here, they fired. The VP fell with a half-dozen bullets in his chest.
Caleb held his breath, watching the screen.
No, no, please no one else…
A gun shot, and then another.
Two of the agents slumped, blood spraying from their heads, as a third stepped between them, smirked to the camera and moved to the console.
He got two steps before jerking back with the impact of two shells.
More screams. Others fleeing in the background as a final agent stepped into the camera view, aiming his gun from the dying man to the others around the room. Only a few left. Some cabinet members, a congresswoman and senator Caleb recognized. None of them looked particularly well — which was a good sign considering they were unlikely to be on the susceptible medication.