Third Drop: Eternal Rest

The tapping of keys was a constant, familiar rattle all around him, soothing and comforting the way those bamboo noisemakers in Japanese gardens were. The faster the clatter, the better he felt, because that meant more work was actually getting done.

He was working as rapidly as possible, lines of code scrolling down his monitor, almost too fast for the average person to read – or even if they could, it would seem practically incomprehensible to them. But he was used to this; in fact, if the code had scrolled any slower, he'd get the feeling that something had gone completely, utterly wrong.

But at the moment, all was well, and he could taste the adrenaline on the back of his tongue. He was close – very, very close.

Suddenly, there was a beep from his speakers, which was followed by several more beeps. Grinning widely, he leaned back as his screen went blank, before turning blue, and then projecting a logo that looked like an L and a P back-to-back.

He rubbed his hands together, like a greedy miser just come into a fortune. He was in business.

--+--

"Achoo!"

The comm. link in his ear crackled to life. "Father? Are you all right?"

Abel sniffed, realizing that the dry air was playing havoc with his sinuses. "Yes Ion, I'm perfectly fine. Just sneezed, that's all." He continued walking down the corridor, his hands relaxed at his sides. He didn't feel the need to keep his weapon drawn; after all, it wasn't as if there was anyone else here – at the moment.

This corridor seems to go on forever, he thought. He had been walking for the last ten minutes or so, and there didn't seem to be any end in sight just yet. He began to wonder if he had managed to miss a door somewhere along the way, a door that he should have seen but didn't notice.

Still, that didn't seem very logical. The way he understood it, this place had been meant to be found eventually, even if it had been built with the utmost secrecy in the beginning. He just had to be patient then.

Just when he was beginning to think that he might have to walk the entire length of the mountain range just to get where he needed to go, he finally spotted a door. Sighing in relief, he walked up to it, making sure that the medallion was not obscured by anything. After a brief pause, there was a soft beep, and then the hiss of releasing pressure, and once more, the door moved out of his way, opening up into the large, yawning space beyond.

--+--

"…what, then, is the connection between the pyramids of the Egyptians and the pyramids of the ancient Mesoamerican cultures, such as those of the Mayans and the Aztecs? Does the answer lie in the Atlantis Theory, which states that the reason why these cultures present certain similarities is because they shared roots with a culture that was dispersed due to some natural disaster? Or is it simply the result of both cultures coming up with a similar solution to an existing engineering problem?"

There was a snicker from the back row. "Maybe it was the Goa'uld (1), ma'am."

The class erupted into chuckles and giggles, and she had to smile as well. "I think you've been watching one too many episodes of Stargate, Mr. Connor."

At that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of classes, and she raised her voice above the din of scraping chairs and the murmurs between students. "Remember, I want a five to seven page paper on your comparisons between Egyptian pyramids and their Mayan and Aztec counterparts. Plus five points on next week's quiz to the one who gives me the best paper."

Slowly, the classroom emptied out, and she sighed as she put her papers back into her bag. As she did so, she took out her cell phone, and frowned when she saw that Dr. Adams, her mentor, had called her thrice already, but she hadn't noticed because she had put her phone on silent. She walked out of the classroom and into the hall, flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder. She hit one of her speed dial numbers, and pressed the device to her ear until the line picked up. "Dr. Adams? Is something wrong?"

"Ah, finally caught you, my dear. Listen, could you come up to the History Department right now? There is something I need to talk to you about."

She blinked, surprised by the anxious tone in Dr. Adams' voice. Usually he was fairly easygoing and cheerful, even when he said his students were giving him hell; right now, the tension behind his words told her that something was very wrong. "Sure, of course. Give me a minute; I'll be right there."

--+--

Ion did not know what to expect when the door finally opened. When the sign he had followed said that he was heading towards the Archives, he wondered what it would be. Would it be an immense library, like the ones he had seen in Albion and Byzantium, only grander, bigger? Or would it be something else entirely? Somehow, the idea excited him – as well as scared him.

He wondered then why it was that Abel had chosen to go to the Sleeping World instead of the Archives. Ion had assumed that Abel would want to take a look at whatever data existed in the Archives, particularly sine he seemed very familiar with Lost Technology. But when he really thought about it, though, Ion knew in himself that he didn't have enough knowledge to handle what was probably in the Sleeping World.

As soon as he stepped through the door, the entire chamber lit itself up, and Ion stared at what he saw. It was a large room, lined floor to ceiling with shelves. On the shelves were books, but when Ion opened them, the pages turned out to be made out of some sort of substance that was cut wafer thin, and shot through with tiny metallic threads on the inside.

He lifted a hand to his ear, pressing a button on his comm. link to connect him with Abel. "Father, these Archives are a little…strange."

There was a brief crackle of static, and Abel replied: "What do you mean, strange?"

"There are books here, but their pages are odd. They remind me of those chips being made in the Ghetto of Albion, only these are much thinner, and much bigger."

Abel was silent for a long while, but before Ion could repeat the statement, Abel replied: "Those are indeed called books, but they aren't books of the ordinary sort. Each page contains hundreds of terabytes of data. They were used for storing massive amounts of information related to a single topic. What does the cover say?"

Ion checked the cover, and read out the words that were stamped on it. "Lazarus Project, Volume One." He looked at the shelves, and saw that there were five more of them on the shelf. "There are a total of six volumes under the same title."

"Good. Now, Ion, I have a very big favor to ask of you. See if you can take as many of those books as you can. If you look carefully, you'll see a catch on the spine of the books. Press that, and you'll be able to fold the book to around half its size. Once you manage that, look for any bags you might see lying around. Take as many bags as you can manage, and as many books as you can, but focus particularly on those related to science and technology. And don't forget to take the Lazarus Project's records, too. We might need those."

Ion did as he was told. He found the aforementioned catch on the spine of the book, and the minute he pressed that the book automatically folded itself down do half its original size, so that it could have fitted comfortably in Abel's palm. He pulled down the six other volumes for the Lazarus Project's records, shrank then down to size, and started hunting down the bags that Abel said would be nearby.

--+--

"Is this the last of them?"

"Yes, it is," she replied as she straightened, wincing slightly when she felt the bones in the lumbar region of her spine snap and pop. She stretched to ease the tension in her muscles, and looked at the person she was speaking to. "And how are you, Da?"

Her father chuckled softly as he glanced up from his work, and smiled at her. "I'm just fine, my dear." He leaned back, and rolled his shoulders. "I am nearly finished up with the report that I will give to the Chief Director tomorrow."

She tilted her head in curiosity. "Really? Do you mind if I read it?"

"Not at all; here." He handed her a sheaf of papers, and she scanned the pages with a quick and practiced eye. To the ordinary layman it might have looked like a lot of medical jargon, but she understood it clearly. It was not for any reason, after all, that she had chosen to study under her father, one of the world's most renowned virologists.

She smiled in sympathy as she turned to look at him when she handed him back the papers. "So there really is nothing that can be done?"

"I am afraid not, my dear," he replied. "It simply mutates too quickly for us to catch up with it. Future generations might have the solution, but for us…well, there's nothing we can do except contain it as best as we can."

She nodded her head solemnly. "We've been mighty lucky so far, that there's been no major outbreaks, no pandemics."

"Aye, but how long do you think that will last?" He shook his head. "No, my dear; I have reached the limit of my abilities. There is nothing left for me to do."

She walked over to him, and embraced him. At this moment, she felt as if he was the only family she had left. She had brothers, sure, but they were elsewhere. Even if they were far apart, though, they still kept in contact with one another, as best as they might.

But now, she knew that things were going to change.

"That time already, is it?" She hugged her father where he sat in his chair, trying to offer him some comfort. "It won't be so long to us, Da. We will go to sleep, and we will wake up as if nothing had happened, and the world will be changed. You'll be able to carry on with your research without a hitch."

Her father chuckled, and she thought she heard a hint of sadness in his voice. "Lass, 'tis not for me to carry on the torch, but for you. Do you understand?"

"Sure I do, but you and Shamus and Aidan will be with me, won't you?"

"…I will. We will. Certainly."

She hugged him tighter, reassured, but she did not see the sad smile on his face, nor the look of bittersweet hope in his eyes.

--+--

Abel stared all around him. When he had first heard about the Lazarus Project from a scientist on Mars long, long ago, he had thought that it was nothing more than a fantastical story, paralleling that of fairytales about people who had been sent into a deep sleep only to wake up a hundred years into the future.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have ever prepared him for what he was seeing right then.

The great, cavernous space yawned before him, softly illuminated by light that emanated from strange, pod-like vessels that lined the floor and the walls. Each pod contained a human body, strips of cloth over the pertinent portions the only concession made for modesty, since what Abel assumed was the lid of every pod was made of a hard, clear material – plastic, as he realized soon enough. He walked slowly down the narrow aisles, peering briefly at the slumbering faces that he passed by, and wondered whether or not it was possible to wake them up.

He stopped in front of a pod that contained a young woman. Her features were rather Latin American, although in this day and age someone with features such as hers would be something of a rare sight, especially since nuclear warfare during Armageddon wiped out the human populations of both North and South America, and a good portion of Asia as well. He glanced at the tag that hung at a convenient eye-level from him, and found out her name: Katherine Sandoval.

"Father?"

Abel yelped, and literally jumped as he whirled around in surprise, fumbling to reach the gun at his waist, and only relaxed when he saw that it was Ion. "Oh…thank God it was just you, Ion. You scared me."

Ion did not respond to that with his usual high-and-mighty act, but instead, stared at the pods around him, his eyes reflecting his awe and that faint hint of horror that also crept along Abel's spine. "What…is this…?"

"These are the inhabitants of the Sleeping World," Abel replied, gesturing to the pod in front of him. "It seems that they have really managed to find a way to keep these people in suspended animation."

"So they are still alive?"

"They are." Abel nodded at the small screen on the side of every pod. "Do you see that? It shows heart rate and brain activity. Both are slower than normal, like those of a hibernating animal." He wasn't so sure about his assessment, of course, but it was a fair enough guess.

He suddenly wished that Seth was here to help him figure this out.

Ion peered closer at another pod nearby, this one housing a middle-aged man. "Why does it look as if they are floating in liquid?"

"I don't know." It was only then that Abel noticed the bags slung on Ion's body, and he smiled. "How many books did you get?"

Ion shrugged. "I lost count, to be honest. I even stopped looking at the titles, at some point in time."

Abel nodded his head, and looked around. This was an unprecedented find, all things considered: a veritable gold mine of Lost Technology. If everything was as he assumed it was, then they could use the information that had been stored up here to really begin rebuilding the world, perhaps even expand into the terra incognita that was Asia, and maybe, just maybe, find a way across the ocean to the Americas.

Just then, there was a loud thud, making Abel and Ion both stand stock-still. A few seconds later, the thud was followed by voices – faint voices, but in the cavernous depths of the Sleeping World, they carried over loud and clear.

"…people in those machines, sir."

"And what do you think we should do with them?"

Abel felt his blood run cold upon hearing that voice. It couldn't possibly be-

Ion hissed, eyes narrowing. "Orden!"

Abel shushed Ion with a wave of his hand, and focused once more on listening.

"Well-"

"We don't need to add more Terrans to this earth. It will be harder to get rid of them if they wake up. No, don't bother with any of them. What is the quickest way to destroy them all?"

"Explosives will work well, sir."

"Good. Then use what we brought. We already have what we want; all that remains is to bury this place for good, so that neither the Vatican nor the Empire can retrieve it."

"Yes, sir."

Ion made as if to stand up, but Abel grabbed his arm, and yanked him back down. "Don't," he muttered.

"But they're going to blow up this place!" Ion hissed in protest.

"And we're going to try to stop them," Abel said. "But we are not going to fight them."

No, Abel thought as he gritted his teeth together. The time for fighting was not now. But they would do all they could to make sure that the people sleeping here, waiting to be awakened in a new world, would get to see that new world.

He looked around, and glanced at Ion before nodding at one of the aisles. He had a plan, and he could only hope and pray that it turned out just as he hoped it would.

NOTES:

(1) The Goa'uld are a fictional race of aliens from the Stargate franchise.