The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery, #2)(10)

“How do you know?”

Martin continued ransacking the small room, answering her over his shoulder. “They’ve been taking islands in the Mediterranean, testing the perimeter, seeing if the Orchid Nations can or would fight them.”

“Can they?”

The building had stabilized, and Kate wanted to treat Martin’s head wound, but he was scurrying around the room too fast.

“No. The Orchid Alliance is barely hanging on. All their resources—military included—are devoted to Orchid production. Help isn’t coming. We need to get out.” He set an egg-shaped device on the table and twisted the top. It began ticking.

Kate tried to focus. Martin was destroying the office. They weren’t coming back here. She immediately thought of the spa building and the boys. “We need to get Adi and Surya.”

“Kate, we don’t have time. We’ll come back for them—with the SAS troops who are on their way.”

“I’m not leaving them. I won’t,” Kate said with a finality she knew Martin would recognize. He had adopted Kate when she was six, right after her biological father had disappeared, and Martin knew her well enough to know there would be no room for compromise.

He shook his head, a look somewhere between bewilderment and disbelief. “Fine, but you better be ready to use that.” He motioned to the gun. Then he punched the key code to exit the office, paused just long enough to let Kate come out, then keyed a code on the outside to lock the door.

The hallway was filled with smoke, and where the hallway met the kitchen, a fire raged and screams called out in the smoky space. “Is there another exit—”

“No. The decon chamber is the only way,” Martin said as he stepped in front of her. He held up his gun. “We’ll run. Shoot anyone—anyone—that tries to stop you.”

Kate glanced down at the gun, and at that moment, fear gripped her. She had never shot a gun before and she wasn’t sure she could shoot someone. Martin grabbed the gun, pulled the slide back and clicked something. “It’s not complicated. Just point and squeeze.” He turned and dashed toward the smoke-and fire-filled kitchen.





CHAPTER 9


Two Miles Below Immari Operations Base Prism

Antarctica


Dorian strained to see the blurry shape. He couldn’t take a deep breath—only a shallow, ragged breath that made him feel like he was drowning. His body hurt all over. His lungs ached when the air entered them.

The figure came into focus. The Atlantean—standing over him, watching him, waiting… for what?

Dorian tried to speak, but he couldn’t fill his lungs enough. He emitted a scratchy sound and closed his eyes. There was a little more air. He opened his eyes. “What… do you want?”

“I want what you want, Dorian. I want you to save the human race from extinction.”

Dorian squinted at him.

“We’re not what you think we are, Dorian. We would never harm you, the same way a parent would never harm their child.” He nodded. “It’s true. We created you.”

“Bullshit,” Dorian spat at him.

The Atlantean shook his head. “The human genome is far more complex than you currently know. We had a lot of trouble with your language function. Clearly we still have some work to do.”

Dorian was starting to breathe normally now, and he sat up. What did the Atlantean want? Why the charade? He clearly controlled the ship. What could he possibly need Dorian for?

The Atlantean answered him as if Dorian had spoken his thoughts aloud. “Don’t worry about what I want.” On the other side of the room, the heavy doors slid open. “Follow me.”

Dorian got to his feet and thought for a moment. What choice do I have? He can kill me anytime he wants. I’ll play this charade out, wait for an opening.

The Atlantean spoke as he led Dorian down another dimly lit gray-metal corridor. “You amaze me, Dorian. You’re intelligent, yet your hate and fear control you. I mean, think about it logically: we came here on a spaceship that employs concepts in physics your race hasn’t even discovered. You putt around this tiny planet in painted aluminum cans that burn the liquefied remains of ancient reptiles. Do you honestly think you could beat us in a fight?”

Dorian’s mind went to the three hundred nuclear warheads aligned around the outside of the ship.

The Atlantean turned to him. “You think we don’t know what a nuclear bomb is? We were splitting the atom before you were splitting firewood. This ship could withstand the force of every nuclear warhead on this planet. You would do nothing but melt the ice on this continent, flood the world, and end your civilization. Be rational, Dorian. If we wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. You would have been dead tens of thousands of years ago. But we saved you, and we’ve been guiding you ever since.”

The Atlantean had to be lying. Was he trying to talk Dorian out of attacking?

The Atlantean smiled. “And still you don’t believe. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We programmed you this way—to survive, even to attack any threat to your survival.”

Dorian ignored him. He held his arm out, stepped closer, and ran his hand through the Atlantean. “You’re not here.”

“No, I’m not. What you see is my avatar.”

Dorian looked around. For the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope. “Where are you?”