Atlantis a-1 Page 19

  Ariana watched the circle hit the rotodome and she could see the source of the golden beam that was going up. It came straight out of the top of the rotodome.

  “Shit,” Mansor muttered. “Now we know why-”

  He paused as they both heard the sound of something massive moving to their left. Ariana squinted but the only image that came to her was of a darker shadow against the black if such a thing were possible. Its indeterminate form towered over them about fifty meters away. She could tell it was coming closer, the trees splintering underneath its weight sounding like shots. Overriding that sound was the same slithering noise they’d heard inside the plane, with a backdrop of hissing, like steam issuing from massive boilers.

  Ariana’s heart froze as she began to make out the dark form as it got closer: the forward part of a thick serpent’s body, five meters wide, was raised up off the ground. Thirty meters up the body, it split into seven snakes’ heads, well above their level, hissing issuing forth from each open, jawed mouth as they twisted and turned. Each head was over a meter wide and tall, the dark eyes glinting over a six inches in diameter each on the side of the mouths. Behind, the rest of the length of the body stretched into darkness.

  While Ariana remained frozen, Mansor turned and ran back toward the hatch they’d come out of. One of the snake’s heads darted down toward him, foot long fangs bared.

  A blue beam flashed out of the dark from the other side of the plane and struck the head a glancing blow. With an angry hiss, the head jerked back, barely five feet from closing on Mansor. The fangs snapped shut in frustration.

  With a startling display of accurate fire, the blue beam flashed seven short bursts in less than two seconds, each one catching a different head. While the blue beam fired its last burst at the snake, a golden beam struck Mansor dead on, freezing him in its grip like a deer in bright headlights.

  “Ariana!” he mouthed.

  She broke out of her amazement and moved for him, but the golden beam picked him up into the air, ten feet above the fuselage.

  Ariana looked over her shoulder as she heard the creature moving, but it was heading away, disappearing into the darkness. She turned back to Mansor. The golden beam was starting to draw him in the opposite direction, toward its source. She came to a halt directly below Mansor, helpless. She grabbed hold of the cable that he still had in his hands and that was tied to inside of the plane. She twisted a wrap around her left wrist and braced herself, trying to hold against the force, feeling her own feet begin to leave the top of the plane.

  The blue beam came out of the darkness again and struck Mansor. Gold and blue flashed around his body in a panoply of color. Ariana noted that he was no longer being pulled toward the gold, but rather seemed caught in a bizarre tug of war, while she dangled below from her left wrist, her toes scraping the top of the plane.

  She looked up and caught Mansor’s eyes as he desperately twisted his head, gazing down at her, his mouth still open in a silent scream.

  Ariana’s scream was heard though, as Mansor’s body burst apart in a explosion of blood and viscera that rained down upon her.

  Both beams disappeared. Ariana collapsed to top of the fuselage. She was vaguely aware that she was being pulled forward via the satellite co-ax cable, but all she could truly register was the wet feeling on her face of Mansor’s blood.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dane sat in the red web seat and checked out the plane. The Canadians were seated halfway up the cargo bay, near Michelet and Freed. The forward third of the bay was filled with a large green metal canister, something Dane had seen before: a five thousand pound bomb designed to be dropped off the back ramp. When it went off, it would clear an area large enough for a helicopter landing zone. He’d seen them dropped and he’d even been on the ground nearby when one of the “daisy-cutters” as they were called, went off. The shock wave had lifted him three feet off the ground and slammed him back down.

  Dane focused his mind and stared across the cargo bay at Sin Fen

  How we can do this?

  Her dark eyes locked onto his and he knew she’d ‘heard’ him. She got up and sat down next to him.

  “It will be easier if we spoke,” she said. “The capability is a genetic throwback.”

  “Go on,” Dane prompted.

  “What do you know of the bicameral mind?” His negative answer was instantly in her head and she continued. “All right, let me start with the basics so you can understand.

  “First, you’re left handed, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So am I. The majority of the population, of course, is right-handed. Which means that the left side of their brain is the dominant hemisphere, due to the crossover of our central nervous system at the base of the skull. So already you are part of only three percent of the population, in that the right side of your brain is dominant. But I believe you are even more rare, because I think both sides are, in a way, dominant, in that they work together much more efficiently than a normal person’s.”

  She must have sensed his confusion.

  “Let me back up a little. The issue is at what point in our evolution did humans become different from the other animals? What makes us different from, say a monkey? An ignorant person would say the ability to think, but that’s not true. All the manifest examples of thinking are present in various degrees in the animal world: learning, the ability to conceptualize. True, they may be very basic, but they are there so any line drawn would have to be arbitrary.”

  Dane found himself listening, mesmerized at the two levels to their conversation-the verbal and the other, deeper, level inside their heads where he knew she was picking up more from him than he was from her.

  “There are those who think language is the great divider but several species have a rudimentary language. It is widely accepted that dolphins communicate on some level. Some monkeys have approximately eighty signals or commands that they use-communication, in effect.

  “There is a theory that we only truly broke away from the animal world when we were able to communicate extensively with a verbal language and act as an individual rather than as part of a group. But what you have to understand is that we humans did not start out with a verbal language or even with verbal communication being our primary mode.

  “Wait!” Sin Fen cut off Dane’s interjecting thought. “Listen to me and you will know all I do.

  “There is a physiological theory that prior to having an extensive verbal language, early Homo Sapiens communicated on a telepathic level, which in a way-although it made for an effective group defense in a harsh environment-also retarded progress because it required the group to stay close together and also think somewhat alike. Once we developed verbal language, we were able to explore and have more initiative as individuals. This is the point at which man separated himself from the animal world.

  “The interesting thing is that the development of language wasn't dictated so much by external factors but more by the physical evolution of the human brain itself.”

  Dane felt Chelsea pressing against his leg and he could hear the steady drumming of the plane’s engines. He was aware that Freed was moving about the cargo bay, pulling the parachutes out of their wrapping and preparing them, but his primary focus was on Sin Fen.

  “That's where the bicameral mind comes in,” Sin Fen continued. “The human brain consists of two halves that are almost identical, but have very little actual physical connection to each other. Scientists believe the two sides developed that way to give us redundancy in critical brain processes.

  “The speech centers in the brain are present to almost the same extent in both hemispheres yet in ninety-seven percent of people they are functional only in the left hemisphere. What happened to the speech centers in the right? They are still there, three distinct areas that work together to produce speech: the supplementary motor area, the least important; Broca’s Area, in the back of the frontal lobe; and Wernicke’s area in the posterior part of the t
emporal lobe, the removal of which produces a permanent loss of meaningful speech.

  “These areas function together to produce speech from the left hemisphere for most people, but they are also present on the opposite side, but apparently non-functioning. Some believe that these opposite side speech centers working together is where the telepathic ability resided. Initially, man's brain was more connected between the two sides and the speech centers worked in harmony so that all humans could ‘talk’ to each other the way we have.”

  Sin Fen smiled, revealing even, very white teeth. “You’ve always been able to sense things, even hear ‘voices’ sometimes that others can’t hear, haven’t you?”

  Dane nodded.

  “Of course, since the verbal language wasn’t yet developed, the only messages that could be sent were very basic and really just a surge of raw emotion. Warnings of danger by a burst of fear, for example. In a way, it required the development of a verbal vocabulary for man to add the depth and subtlety to language that allowed us to move forward as a species, yet in losing our telepathic capability we regressed in a certain way also.

  “But think if some humans have come full circle! What if some of us have the verbal language in our heads, but also retain the telepathic capability? This is what we are!

  “Our speech centers are developed equally in both sides of the brain. The two hemispheres of our brains are also more connected than a normal human's. I have seen MRIs of my own brain and know this to be a fact. This is how we can communicate telepathically and how you have your ‘sixth’ sense that has served you so well. It is simply your brain functioning on a higher level, analyzing more sensory input in a more efficient manner than the normal person.”

  Dane stared at Sin Fen. He’d always known he was different, but because he hadn’t known what normal was, he hadn’t known how different he truly was.

  Sin Fen continued. “Physiological psychologists at the very least agree that Wernicke’s area in the non-speech side of the brain does exist. It can be removed in most people without causing any apparent problems. But there are those who hypothesize that this apparently non-functioning area is the center for our imagination, the place where we hear the voices of the Gods.”

  Dane started in surprise. He’d heard voices in his head all his life and he knew from the way Sin Fen’s voice resonated in his brain that she wasn’t referring to ‘Gods’ in the traditional sense, but a higher order of awareness.

  “Not only does this area give you the ability to ‘speak’ to me,” Sin Fen said, “but it gives you many more capabilities, some of which you are not even aware of yet. You have some of the power that the ancients ascribed to the Gods.”

  Dane could see Freed running his hand along the steel static line cable that stretched the interior length of the cargo bay from front to rear, checking it.

  “What does that have to do with where we are going?” Dane asked, trying to bring this back to a level he could cope with.

  “We don’t know,” Sin Fen said.

  “Who is we? Who do you work for?”

  Dane started forward as he saw the image that flittered across Sin Fen’s consciousness, before a mental curtain came down over it. “Foreman!”

  “What?” Freed yelled, barely audible above the plane noises. “What did you say?”

  Dane broke contact with Sin Fen, earning an approving bark from Chelsea. “What?”

  “You said something,” Freed yelled.

  “Nothing,” Dane said.

  “Time to rig for the jump.”

  Dane looked over at Beasley who appeared to be less than enthusiastic at the moment. As he stood, he projected his thoughts toward Sin Fen:

  I want to know the entire truth. Sin Fen’s dark eyes met his. I will you tell you all we know, but it is not much.

  * * *

  “Where’s Mansor?” Ingram was holding Ariana’s arm, his fingers squeezing into her bicep. She knew he was afraid she was in shock, but she wasn’t ready yet to come back to reality. She wanted to be in shock, to forget what she had just witnessed.

  They’d hauled her back using the co-ax cable, pulling her into the hatch. Ariana looked up. The hatch was still open above their heads. That brought her back like a slap in the face. “Shut it! Shut it!” she screamed at the others.

  Lisa Carpenter jumped up on the desktop and pushed the hatch closed. She spun shut the locking latch.

  “What happened to Mansor?” Ingram asked once more as she peeled his fingers out of her arm. “Is he out there? Should we get him?”

  Ariana stared at him, choking back the insane laughter she felt welling up in her chest. She spread her hands indicating the blood she was covered in. “This is what happened to Mansor. This is Mansor.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Ingram muttered, sitting down in shock.

  “What about the SATCOM?” Carpenter asked.

  Ariana held up the cable, where it had gone to Mansor. The end was cleanly cut. She pulled the loose end through and undid the knot she had around her wrist. She could feel pain in skin where the cable had tightened down on her, but it was distant, not sharp. She threw the cable down and collapsed in a swivel chair.

  She took stock of the situation, getting herself under control. There were only five of them left. Hudson was in a chair, his wounded legs propped in front of him. Herrin was huddled in the corner, his glazed eyes telling Ariana he was long gone and could not be counted on. Ingram seemed all right, but age was against him. Carpenter seemed ready, muscular black arms folded over her chest. But ready for what? Ariana wondered as she absently ran a hand across her face. It came away sticky and crusted with blood.

  “Here,” Carpenter said, holding out a towel.

  Ariana took it and wiped herself clean as best she could.

  “What happened out there?” Ingram asked.

  So Ariana told them. When she was done, silence reigned, until Carpenter spoke. “What do we do now?”

  “Nothing,” Ariana said. “We do nothing. We wait and we pray but I don’t even know if that will do any good, because as far as I know, we may already be in hell.”

  * * *

  Much as Foreman hated bureaucracy, there were times when he also appreciated it and the blind allegiance paid by those who filled the various nooks and crannies of the government.

  Right now he had a live satellite feed to the National Reconnaissance Office representative at the Groom Lake Test Facility, more commonly known as Area 51 in the media and among UFO fanatics. He’d given the order twenty minutes ago and the NRO had reacted with its usual efficient speed.

  “The SR-75 is ready to go,” the NRO rep informed Foreman.

  “Go,” Foreman ordered.

  Groom Lake had the distinction of being home to the longest runway in the world, built onto the dry lake bed. Over seven miles long, it had been the field from which such exotic planes as the Stealth Fighter and the B-2 bomber had first been tested.

  But today, the plane that had just been rolled out of a massive hanger at Foreman’s order, made those earlier planes look like toys. Over a 250 feet long, almost the length of a football field, and a hundred feet wide at the tip of its v-wing shape, the SR-75 Penetrator was the most advanced airframe ever built by man. The plane was shaped like an elongated B-2 bomber. The crew of three consisted of a pilot, co-pilot and reconnaissance surveillance officer (RSO). Those three sat in a special compartment in the upper nose. A fourth man sat in the belly of the plane, waiting.

  With Foreman’s final order, the pilot of the SR-75 rolled up throttle on the plane’s conventional turbo-jet engine and the large plane began accelerating down the runway. It took the plane over two and a half miles to gain sufficient speed so that the delta wings produced enough lift for the wheels to separate from the ground.

  With the turbojet engine at max thrust, the pilot continued to gain altitude and speed.

  * * *

  “I need you to stay on top of this and tell me immediately if there is any change.
”

  Patricia Conners rubbed a weary hand across her wrinkled forehead. “We’ll stay on top of it.” She glanced across her desk at Jimmy who nodded in agreement. There was a pause, then Foreman’s voice echoed through the office. “I appreciate this.”

  “You’re welcome,” Conners said. “I’m just glad someone’s taking action.”

  “Are you linked to the HMV?”

  “I’m linked through the NRO,” Conners said. “I’ll take over control once the HMV is launched.”

  “You’l only have one shot,” Foreman said.

  “I know,” Conners replied.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Hook up!” Freed yelled, curling his forefingers and gesturing up and down.

  Dane slipped his static line hook over the cable, snapped it in place, then ran the thin safety wire through the small hole, locking the hook in place. It had been thirty years since Dane had had a parachute on his back, but the routine and feelings that he had first experienced at Fort Benning during his basic airborne training came rushing back. He was getting ready to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Unlike that first training jump, Dane felt no apprehension about the jump itself. This time he feared the ground.

  He was wearing protective gear, designed for rough terrain jumping: braces on his arms and legs, a helmet with a protective grill over his face, a thick, padded vest covering his torso. A 200 foot length of rope was tied off on the outside of his rucksack, to be used to lower himself to the ground if he got stuck in a tree. The M-16, mines, ammunition and other gear, were broken down inside the ruck.

  In front of him, Beasley was fumbling with his snap hook. Dane took it out of his hands and hooked it up. Beasley didn’t thank him.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Dane said.

  Beasley just moaned.