The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery 2)

“This place is—”

“A resurrection ship.”

Dorian tried to wrap his head around it. “So they’re all dead?”

“They died a very long time ago. And I can’t wake them up; won’t wake them up. You saw it. They died badly, in a world that hadn’t known a violent death in too long to remember. But you and I can save them. They are the last of our people. They are counting on you, Dorian.”

Dorian took in the expanse of tubes with a new appreciation. My people. Were there others? “What about the ship in Gibraltar? It’s another resurrection ship?”

“No. It’s something else. A science vessel. A local explorer, incapable of deep space travel. It’s a lander—the alpha lander from the science expedition here. It has eight resurrection pods. Expeditions are dangerous work and the scientists sometimes have unfortunate accidents. As you know, the resurrection chambers also have the power to heal. Resurrection only works for Atlanteans. And it has a limited range. The nuclear blasts in Gibraltar likely destroyed the pods there. These tubes are the only ones that can resurrect you. But if you venture past a hundred kilometers from here, you won’t resurrect. The system won’t make a copy if it doesn’t have updated data—the Prometea rule. If you go out into the world, you will be mortal again. If you die, you die forever, Dorian.”

Dorian looked over at David’s body. “Why didn’t he—”

“I disabled the resurrection for him. You won’t have to worry about him.”

Dorian glanced at the corridor that led to the outside. “They captured me before. They didn’t trust me.”

“They’ve seen you die, Dorian. When you walk out of here again, risen from the dead with memories of what happened to you, no one will oppose you.”

Dorian hesitated for a second. There was one last question, but he didn’t want to ask it.

“What?” Ares asked.

“My memories… our memories…”

“They will come, in time.”

Dorian nodded. “Then I’ll see you shortly.”

CHAPTER 28

David Vale opened his eyes. He stood in another tube, but in a different place—not the vast, seemingly endless chamber below Antarctica. This room was small, no more than twenty feet by twenty feet.

His eyes adjusted, and the room came into focus. There were three other tubes—all empty. A large screen dominated the far wall, just above a high-top bar, like the control panels he had seen in the Atlantean structure in Gibraltar and Antarctica. Below it, a crumpled-up suit lay on the floor. A closed door stood at each end of the room.

What is this? What happened to me? To David, the room seemed different from those in Antarctica; it was more like the science lab in the Gibraltar structure that Kate’s father had described in his journal. Was this a science lab? If so, why am I here? For some kind of experiment? And beyond that, he wondered why he kept waking up in these tubes every time Dorian Sloane shot him to death. That he had now been shot to death multiple times was also hard to wrap his head around, but he had to focus on the more pressing issue: how to get out of the tube. Had Sloane figured out some way to work the tube, or had the Atlantean released him? As if on cue, the tube hissed open and the thin clouds of gray and white fog wafted out into the room and dissipated.

David paused, assessing his surroundings, waiting for his new captor to make the next move. When nothing happened, he stepped out into the room, struggling on barely responsive legs. He steadied himself at the control station. Below him lay the environmental suit. The helmet sat against the wall, behind the control station. David could see now that the suit was damaged. He bent and rolled it over. Yes—it was the same type of suit he had seen in the holo movies in Gibraltar. The Atlanteans had worn them when they had run out of the ship and saved a Neanderthal from a ritual sacrifice near the Rock of Gibraltar.

He examined the suit more closely. A large gash spread across the torso. The result of weapons fire? The material seemed to be severed, but not singed. What did it mean? In the videos he had seen, the ship in Gibraltar had exploded after a massive tsunami washed it ashore, then pulled it back out to sea. The Immari had assumed that a series of methane pockets on the sea floor had exploded, ripping the ship into several pieces.

The explosion had incapacitated one of the Atlanteans in the suits, and the other had carried him or her through a door—presumably to Antarctica.

Was this suit from one of the two Atlanteans in Gibraltar? David stood and searched the room for any other clues. On a small bench behind the control station, he could see a garment of some kind, neatly folded.

He hobbled to the bench. His legs were getting better, but they weren’t one hundred percent yet. He unraveled the bundle. It was a black military uniform. He held it up to the dim LED-like lights that shined from floor and ceiling. The suit glistened and seemed to reflect the light. It almost looked like a projection of a starry night. He moved it around and the suit changed again, matching the light and walls behind it. It was some kind of active camouflage. The entire reflective top—the tunic of the uniform—was smooth and blank except for the collar. Its right side had a square emblem: [II].

I.I. Immari International. This was an Immari Army uniform.

On the left side of the collar, a silver bird spread out—the insignia of a lieutenant colonel’s rank.

David tossed the uniform back on the bench. He was naked, and he’d rather stay that way than put the uniform on.

He walked over to the control station and waved his hand over it. Kate’s father had learned to work these Atlantean control stations. For him, a blue and green light would emanate and interact with his hand, but this control station was dark and dead. David pressed his fingers to it, but it gave no reaction.

He glanced back and forth between the doors. There was nothing like being a rat in a cage. He walked to the closest door and stood for a moment, but it didn’t slide open. He ran his hand over the panel beside it. Dead. He flattened his hands on the gray metal and pushed, but it didn’t move. It was sealed shut, like the bulkhead door in a submarine.

He tried the same routine on the opposite door but got the same result. He was trapped. How much air did he have? How long could he last before he starved to death?

He sat on the bench in silence, alone with only his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, they always drifted to Kate. David wondered where she was at that very moment. He prayed she was safe. If not, his sacrifice would be for nothing.