Excalibur

EPILOGUE: THE PRESENT

Yakov peeked around the edge of the Master Guardian as he heard footsteps. Three Kortad stood in the passageway by the bodies of Briggs and Kakel. They were encased in black armor, swords strapped to their sides, and the strange spears were grasped in their hands.

One of them spotted Yakov and raised the spear. Yakov ducked back behind the red pyramid.

And at the moment it came alive, a fierce red glow pulsing out of its surface. At the same time a thick metal door slid shut in the passageway, locking the Kortad out of the room. The walkway smoothly slid back into the wall, isolating the Master Guardian — and Yakov — in the center of the empty sphere. Swallowing nervously, Yakov raised both hands, stepped forward, and pressed them against the side of the pyramid. He was immediately enveloped in the red glow. His hands felt the warmth of the machine. He gasped as the walls of the sphere came alive with images and his mind made contact with the alien machine and was overwhelmed with data.

Yakov ignored the input and focused on the priorities of commands he knew were needed to win the world war raging on the planet.

The last plane left the deck of the Kennedy. Admiral Kenzie watched its afterburners spit flame as it rocketed into the sky. He picked up the mike to give the order for all ships to be scuttled. He hesitated, holding it in his hand, all his training fighting against what he knew he had to do.

Aspasia’s Shadow spun about as the golden haze around his guardian computer suddenly flared brighter. He stared at it, then screamed in dismay as the glow slowly faded out. He ran to the guardian and placed his hands on the side. Nothing.

He glanced over at the Marines as they collapsed to the floor, the nanovirus receiving no input from the guardian. The bodies twitched and he could see a black flow from the mouths, noses, and ears — millions of nanoviruses exiting the bodies.

Aspasia’s Shadow stood still for several moments as he registered this sudden development. Artad or the humans. One of the two had beaten his men to the Master Guardian and freed Excalibur. He wasted no time on self-recrimination or trying to hold on to a plan that had failed.

Aspasia’s Shadow went to the control console and tapped in a complex code on the hexagonal displays. Then he grabbed the Grail and wrapped it in a white cloth.

He ran from the chamber into the tunnel leading to the bouncer.

On the side of the guardian, the probes that had been inserted into Kelly Reynolds’s body began to retract until she was completely free of the machinery. She slid down the side of the now quiescent alien device to the floor of the cavern.

Her eyes were crusted shut, her limbs atrophied. Her chest barely rose as she took a labored breath. Her mouth was open, parched, the tongue shriveled.

And in her mind she rejoiced, as she was completely free of the guardian.

Captain Lockhart staggered, fell to her knees, and screamed in agony as millions of microscopic metal creatures exited her body via every orifice. She threw up, her eyes teared. It was excruciating but mercifully quick. Within a minute she shook her head, slowly got to her feet, and looked about.

She was on the bridge of the Arizona and free of the alien control. Her hand snaked forward and she picked up the radio mike, recalling the strike force.

The Kortad sprinted down the main center corridor of the mothership toward the front. Three turned at a corridor, heading to the right, the other continuing forward. They entered the main control room for the ship. One of them unfastened a panel, slid the point of a spear inside, and severed a line, effectively disconnecting the Talons that were docked around the front end of the craft from the Master Guardian’s control. Another was at the master communications console, tapping on the various hexagons, powering up the short-range transmitter. The Kortad sent a message to Artad, informing him of the failure to seize the Master Guardian and requesting further instructions.

Artad watched the glow fade from his guardian. Either Aspasia’s Shadow had gotten to the Master Guardian or someone else — either way, whoever it was, they had shut him down. He paused as a message from the Kortad he had sent to Ararat played across the console in front of him and gave him the answer: The humans had succeeded where both he and Aspasia’s Shadow had failed. They were in the Master Guardian chamber aboard the mothership. Artad knew he had lost the race, the Master Guardian, and the mothership. And the alliances he had made, the power he wielded on Earth, were gone with the loss of his guardian.

Commendable on the part of the humans but shortsighted, he mused.

He entered commands on the console, then turned away from it and the guardian for the last time.

“Come,” he indicated to his chief Kortad. “We have only one option now.”

The Kortad had not been idle. Chi Yu awaited on the floor of the main chamber along with three exact copies, built from parts that had been stored in several of the many containers in the main cavern. Artad pointed and his troops boarded the craft. He was the last to enter one of the craft, moving forward to the cockpit.

The Mars guardian had been shut down, which brought the massive mech-robot army to a screeching halt.

So close. So close. The dish was completed. Two of the three massive towers equidistant around the dish were done, the third just about done.

Inside the alien base the surviving Airlia looked at the displays showing the work that had been accomplished. They knew how much was left to be done. And they knew there was only one way it would be accomplished without the guardian. By hand.

“Sailors, you have done a commendable job.” Admiral Kenzie’s voice echoed over the ocean. “It is better that these ships — and us along with them — go to the bottom, rather than become part of the Alien Fleet. I therefore now order all captains to—”

“Sir!”

Kenzie paused and turned toward his communications officer. He released the key for the mike. “What?”

“We’re receiving an incoming message from the Alien Fleet.” “What ship?”

“The Arizona, sir.”

“The Arizona? Put it on the box.”

A woman’s voice came out of the speaker. “Admiral Kenzie. This is Captain Lockhart. We’re free, sir. Free of the virus. We control the fleet.”

Kenzie slumped back in his command chair. Then he keyed the mike. “Captain Lockhart. Change your heading. Straight for Easter Island. We will rendezvous with you off the coast. Flank speed.”

Under Garlin’s command, the Ark of the Covenant was penetrating further and further into Lisa Duncan’s suppressed and hidden memories. It would just be a matter of time before the information was uncovered.

Lying on the table, Duncan twisted and moaned as her mind was invaded. Her conditioning and her subconscious fought to keep the barrier in place, but there was a small part of her mind that also wanted to know her own truth, because it knew that revealing that truth would reveal all.

Mike Turcotte was seated with his back against the mountain, surrounded by bodies, frozen blood, and the sheath for the sword still held in ice at the bottom. In his hands — Excalibur. He stared at the alien blade, the setting sun glinting off the metal.

He was completely drained of energy. It took so much effort simply to breathe that he couldn’t conceive of getting to his feet. He knew the cylinder in his pack had to be low on oxygen. And the effect of the pills and blood packing was declining. There was only one thing he wanted to know before the cold and altitude took him.

He reached into his parka and pulled open a Velcro pocket. The buttons on his SATPhone looked incredibly small and far away as he cradled it in his gloved hands. He was aware enough to know that if he took off his gloves his fingers would freeze almost instantly. He lightly pressed the tip of the sword on one button, accessing his call list, then again to pick who he wanted. He slid the phone inside his hood, against his ear, pulling his mask away so he could speak. It was answered immediately. “Major Quinn.”

“Did we do it?” Turcotte asked.

“Mike! Are you all right?” “Did we do it?”

“Yes. We did it. Yakov shut down the guardians. He has control of the Master Guardian. The shields are down. The nanovirus is dying off. Artad and Aspasia’s Shadow are powerless.”

Quinn’s voice sounded very far away. Turcotte frowned as he tried to understand through the fog of exhaustion. “We won?” “We won, Mike.”

“Good,” Turcotte muttered. “That’s good.”

“Mike?” Quinn’s voice took on an edge. “Where are you? Are you all right? Are you on your way back?”

“Duncan?” Turcotte whispered.

“No sign, but I’m still checking.”

“But we won?” Turcotte asked once more as if not believing what he was hearing. “Yes, sir.”

“Finally.” The phone slid from Turcotte’s hand onto his lap next to Excalibur.

Quinn’s voice was very far away now, fading out. “Mike? Are you all right? Can you make it back?”

“I don’t think so,” Turcotte whispered as he closed his eyes and slid sideways, resting partly on Merlin’s frozen body. “But at least we won.”