“Brrr.” Lane Morrison shivered under the diffuse noon sun of northern Scotland in late August and pulled her shawl tighter. Her decade long tenure in Arizona had acclimated her to temperatures twice that she was experiencing in the highlands now. She watched the rocky moss-covered landscape as the jeep bounced along a barely discernable path with agonizing slowness.
Carried across the Atlantic in the comfort of a private jet, her flight ended on a small airstrip nestled amongst the Scottish highlands a short distance from a picturesque town and a large lake. Immediately after touchdown she had been guided to a nearby weather-beaten vehicle driven by Edinburgh native Roger Carson.
“I thought Americans could handle all sorts of weather,” Carson teased. “This is a balmy summer day, lass.” He reached out to adjust the heat setting and winced at the grinding sound that emerged from the console.
“For those that live in Canada, maybe.” She reached back to check her bag again, concerned by the constant jostle. The zippers were still secure, and her mobile phone was still in its pocket.
“As you will.” He grinned and nodded forward. “There she is.”
Morrison leaned forward. “I don’t see…oh, wait.” A barely discernable shadow against a mountainous granite feature resolved into the mouth of a cavern. On approach it appeared to be an opening carved out by an ancient torrent. She glanced over with a raised eyebrow and a worried frown. "Really?"
Carson shrugged. "Not to worry, explanations are forthcoming. Saunders-Leigh never does anything by half.” He grinned at his passenger, then spun the wheel and guided the vehicle into the shadows.
A week before the representative for the multinational Saunders-Leigh had approached her after a morning lecture at Phoenix University. She was intrigued enough to meet with the charming Joseph Saunders, a tall, fit man in his later years with a shock of steel gray hair. A few archeological digs had been sponsored by the notoriously secretive group, and grants for real field work were usually snatched up by the senior male archeologists on staff.
His claims of a life altering discovery had seemed hyperbolic at first. Then six images of pieces of an artifact displayed on an tablet stirred her curiosity and excitement.
“This has been in a private collection for nearly a century, Dr. Morrison. You would be one of the few archeologists in the world to have studied this artifact,” he said. “We need the best on this project, and we are willing to pay very well for your time.”
A chance to add to the understanding of Egyptian history and gain a potential sponsor for future research was a powerful enticement. The signing bonus and the offered pay were equally compelling. It was only after Saunders casually mentioned the other archeologist involved on the project that she signed the non-disclosure agreement and informed the college of her immediate sabbatical.
The overwhelming compulsion to see this mysterious artifact had been diluted by her growing concern during the trip. It was likely the project would prove to be less than the exciting experience pitched by Saunders, or it was some scheme to authenticate a counterfeit find.
Now, rather than setting up in a comfortable, temperature controlled lab within a private home or museum, she was entering a maw in the side of a small mountain. Morrison recognized that her expectations were rooted in assumptions rather than any promises by Saunders, but she was still unsettled and anxious.
Morrison’s eyes took a few moments to adjust to the soft white luminance within the tunnel. The tunnel quickly widened as they passed between walls marked with obvious signs of human engineering. They picked up speed and she noted their gradual descent toward a pair of massive steel doors that barred their progress.
A pronounced squeal echoed around them as the doors parted just enough to allow passage between. The vehicle coasted into a massive space with glass cubes connected by thick bundles of cable strung across the floor, illuminated by halogens liberally scattered across the cavern atop poles. Dozens of people in a range of casual business wear crossed the floor between the cubes.
In the distance, a massive concrete square abutted one of the rocky walls. Pipes and cables snaked over the floor into the construct. She could just make out a collection of men in black with rifles standing in small clusters nearby.
Carson pulled to the side near other jeeps and two larger trucks. He hopped out and gestured for Morrison to follow. She climbed out of the passenger seat warily, looking around with wide eyes.
Her guide had turned to stare at a dour, rotund figure in a lab coat that approached them with a clipboard in one hand and a walkie in the other. “Well, if it isn’t Mister Kent.”
“Glad you made it back, Carson. Took you long enough.” He held up the clipboard. “Doctor Lane Morrison?”
“That's me.” She nodded at the armed men. "Are you expecting Indiana Jones to steal something?"
Kent considered her for a moment. "You see soon enough why we need the security, doctor," he said, then tucked his radio into a pocket. “I’m Ed Kent, program director for the EDICT group. Welcome aboard.” She started to hold out her hand, but he turned and started toward a group of tightly clustered cubes. “This way to HQ.”
"I'm not sure I'm aboard, actually," she murmured. Kent set a rapid pace forward, and she had to run a few steps to catch up. "You’re American,” she said. “New York?”
“Boston, actually.” He turned his head and favored her with a slight smile. “The weather seems a bit more stable here in the fall and winter.”
“Cold and gloomy instead of brutally cold and gloomy?”
“I’ll not listen to lies and slander about my country.” Carson waved a hand dramatically. “Even if they are true.”
Kent chuckled and stopped at a small panel of numbered buttons attached to the exterior of a larger cube. He typed in a six-digit code and pushed the door open at the corresponding click.
A ten-seat conference table dominated the space within, with three large monitors affixed to the wall. Carson edged between the chairs and wall toward a service cart that hosted a few pastries lingering between coffee and tea urns. He nodded to the two men and one woman already occupying seats at the table.
They had all turned to regard her with open curiosity. Morrison ignored their interest, her focus instead on the largest screen. She took in the image of a stone ring set atop a raised platform and absently noted the 39 raised glyphs on the inner portion, and the nine clasp-like chevrons around the outer edge.
She turned to the others. They were each smiling or chuckling, amused by her evident surprise and wonder. “What is it?”
“It is a worthy pursuit, Dr. Morrison.” A short, wiry, bald man stood and walked around the table. He grasped her hand in his and shook it vigorously. “Emil Korhonen at your service. I am the lead physicist and karaoke champion.” His vowels were clipped in a way Morrison associated with Eastern Europe. “Forgive our amusement, but we’ve each been there.”
“It's amazing.” One of the others turned a chair around so she could sit. “Thank you. I’ve not seen this exact structure before.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.” Korhonen smiled wryly. “This is our current project team, doctor. Professor Elitsa Valky.” A bespectacled red-haired woman nodded. “She is an astrophysicist. Commander Michael Pol, our resident security chief.” The muscular man that had offered her a seat smiled widely, displaying perfect teeth in a square jaw. “You’ve met Roger, our facilitator and diplomatic consultant.”
Valky pushed her glasses up and smiled awkwardly at Morrison. “A pleasure. I read your papers on cultural development. We have stimulated debates here after.”
“I hope so. Trying to grasp the nuances of our history is an ever-evolving conversation.” She glanced around the room. “I was looking forward to meeting Dr. Jackson.”
Pol and Korhonen exchanged a weighted glance. The physicist nodded. “Dr. Jackson is elsewhere now.”
“I see. You paid a lot of money for me to come here. I’ve taken a sabbatical for a year, and I’m nearly frozen. One of the biggest selling points for me was Dr. Jackson’s involvement in the project.”
“Yes, but….”
“You think it’s alien?
Korhonen sat back and steepled his fingers. “Why would you say that?”
Morrison raised her eyebrows. “Look at this setup. Secure underground bunker? Scientists gathered in secret with large paychecks and non-disclosure agreements?” She pointed at the screen. “Finally, an archeologist that just happens to think aliens built the pyramids is involved. In any other circumstances, I would have seen literature on this find, somewhere.”
Carson had sat next to Valky. He wiped his fingers on a pants leg and nodded. “This is too important to let the world know about it.”
“That brings us to Dr. Jackson….”
“It’s called a Stargate,” said Korhonen.
Morrison suppressed an urge to laugh. “No, really?"
Kent sighed, then grasped a remote and triggered a video on the screen directly in front of Morrison. A shimmering pool of light filled the center of the ring, and a compact vehicle rolled forward on treads to disappear into the undulating surface.
Four men and two women dressed in loose outdoor gear, some of them armed, stepped into view. The man in front turned and nodded at someone off camera and then proceeded to lead the others into the ring. Just after the last of them passed the threshold, the shimmer faded, and Morrison could see the rear of the cavern through the aperture.
She was almost certain the second man to file through the gate was Daniel Jackson.
The view changed. Again, the ring was filled with shifting light. Three figures emerged onto the platform from the opposite direction, staves taller than their wielders held at their sides. Each bore a raised symbol on their forehead.
Morrison peered closer and realized their skin resembled that of snakes, and their faces were flat with nose slits over a wide mouth. Their dress was a variation on wear she had seen only on Egyptian tomb walls, disconcerting when matched with an inhuman visage.
A tall human figure stepped through immediately after, dressed in robes of green and gold with an ornate headpiece like those worn by pharaohs. He peered around and pointed toward a group of men dressed in black and carrying machine guns that approached the ramp. There was a flash of light and the security detail collapsed. He then turned and peered at the camera and his eyes flashed yellow. He muttered something to his companions, and they rushed down the ramp.
The playback ended as the screen filled with static.
Morrison gasped. She had held her breath as the events played out. “What?”
Carson leaned forward. “The group you saw step through the ring was our first attempt to explore beyond our solar system. That is what responded within twenty-four hours,” he said. “Those aliens slaughtered a number of our colleagues and wrecked our control systems at our previous facility. They abducted two people as well,” he said.
“Again, what am I doing here?”
“That stargate generates a wormhole that connects to other worlds, doctor. As you have seen, there are aliens, and the ones we've encountered so far do not seem so friendly. Worse, it appears we have led them to Earth,” said Vatsky. “We need someone that understands how to navigate the differences in cultures, to help us make friends. We hope to find allies or technologies used to fight this kind of threat. Perhaps we can find our people, too.”
Pol nodded. “We’ve opened Pandora’s box and now we’re responsible for dealing with it.”
“Dr. Jackson went through the Stargate, didn’t he?”
Vatsky pursed her lips and nodded. “Yes, he did.”
Small talk dominated the table then, with Kent and Pol delving into operational minutia, Vatsky and Kerhonen reviewing the contents of a tablet and trading hushed commentary, and Carson hovering behind it all, watching Morrison as she stared at the image of the artifact – the Stargate – now on the screen.
She started when Kerhonen gently placed a hand on her arm. “Are you well, Dr. Morrison?” Everyone had stopped talking at some point and were regarding her again, she realized.
“This is a lot,” she said, then shook her head. “I am adjusting to a different reality at this point.”
“Understandable, I think,” Vatsky said. “Even scientists have their foundational dogma, and this can be difficult to reassess.”
“True enough.” Morrison studied the screen again. “When did this happen?”
“Two months ago,” Pol said. “
“I’ll admit I am curious enough, and concerned enough, to see where this rabbit hole leads,” she said. The Alice reference felt far too on the nose for the situation. Instead of Mad Hatters or Cheshire cats, she had fallen into a world where aliens dressed in ancient human garb killed and kidnapped.
“It is wormhole, actually,” Vatsky said. “That shimmer is event horizon that dematerializes matter for transport to receiving gateway, and re-materialization.”
Morrison resisted an urge to elaborate on the reference Vatsky had missed. “Interesting. Those markings around the edge? What kind of iconography are those?” She studied the screen again, leaning forward. “They aren’t in any hieroglyphic system I’m familiar with.”
“We realized those are a coordinate system some years ago, based on star patterns as they appeared to Earth in the past”, Korhonen said. “There was a capstone discovered with the Stargate in Egypt that provided a series of symbols that we first dialed, for lack of a better term.”
“So, the powers-that-be decided to investigate,” Pol said. “We sent a small drone through and was able to survey the environment on the other side.”
“You mean the alien world. Wait, you could get radio signals?”
Pol nodded, then Carson interjected. “It was a huge desert, with a breathable atmosphere and a temperature near Arizona norms.” He glanced at Pol and shrugged. “Sorry, I was feeling left out.”
Korhonen coughed. “We lost the connection when the stargate shut down the wormhole after a short time. Since there seemed to be little danger, and the probe had not detected any airborne contagion, the leadership team decided it was worth the risk to send a team through.”
Morrison glanced at Kent. “You sent armed escorts, though?”
“It was our first off-world excursion. It seemed prudent,” he said. “Obviously, it wasn’t enough.”
“Did you think that perhaps you incited the response by sending armed men with the team,” she said sharply. She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”
“Yes, but not inaccurate,” Korhonen said. “The attack crippled our infrastructure. We relocated the gate here and rebuilt our systems in record time with the intent of finding our team.” He waved at Pol.
“Unfortunately, we do not know where the aliens came from. Did they come from the same place that the team went to?” Pol stood up. “To rescue our people, we need to know more about where they went, who the enemy is and what kind of threat they represent.”
He took up a tablet on the table and swiped up. A brightly lit dunes-scape appeared on one of the wall screens. Pol moved his finger across the tablet face to zoom in, stopping when a slightly pixilated figure was visible peering over the top of a dune.
Morrison felt her heart lurch. “You think they’re alive?”
Kent pointed at the screen. “There are people there, Dr. Morrison. We want you to go talk to them and find out.”
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