her brusqueness, it was evident that the mysterious Rosalia was well educated. Her well of knowledge seemed bottomless, yet she frequently saw no reason to explain her comments to those she considered beneath her. Domi very definitely fell into that category.
Grant ignored the two antagonistic females, relaxing his eyes as he meditated on the nonspace created between his touching fingers. It had been fifteen hours since the incident with Edwards, and he had hoped that he might remain while the operation was performed on the man’s brain so that he could witness with the rest of them just what it was that was growing there. However, with the satellite feeds back online, something urgent had come up. Via its network of contacts, Cerberus had amassed several reports of people going missing out near the banks of the river known as the Euphrates. Not just one or two people, but dozens, perhaps more than one hundred. Lakesh had replayed Grant the surveillance footage taken from Iraq, close to the mouth of the Euphrates and Tigris rivers. The overhead footage showed a city structure expanding on the banks of the Euphrates. The settlement that had not been there six months before. Constructed of an off-white stone of unknown origin, the ville was expanding at a rapid rate. That wasn’t unusual in this age of displaced persons and in itself it shouldn’t be cause for alarm. What was alarming was the shape of the burgeoning ville—it quite clearly took the form of a winged creature, drawn across the fertile soil of the riverbank.
“A dragon,” Grant had said as he had stared at the incredible surveillance photos.
“Or perhaps a dragon ship,” Lakesh had said, emphasizing the word ship . His implication was clear. The Cerberus team had become aware of the Annunaki starship Tiamat as it lurked high above the atmosphere, and Grant had been a part of the team on board when the ship had begun its self-destruct sequence, watched from space as its exploding form had filled the heavens with light. To have another of the starships appear like this—on Earth—was without doubt a cause for concern.
Well prepared for the briefing, Lakesh had called up backdated surveillance footage showing the expansion of the settlement from apparent nothingness just six months ago. While it appeared to be a city, there was no mistaking the implication of that swooping, winged shape. Several miles across, it crouched by the banks, head pointing off toward the north while the right-hand flank abutted the river itself, a curving tail winding downward in a southerly direction. The mighty wings were stretched wide in imitation of a crescent, the creature’s right wing crossing the width of the river in a curving bridge. It was unclear from the photographs, but it appeared that buildings were constructed on the wing-bridge as elsewhere, adhering to the dragonlike shape of the vast settlement.
“We need to look into this,” Grant had agreed. “If only we had the Mantas, then me and Kane could…” He stopped, the words turning to ashes on his tongue. He had partnered with Kane for so long that to take on a mission like this without him, even a simple recce, seemed anathema to the way things worked.
“We’re just amassing reports from the local area,” Donald Bry had explained from his position at another computer terminal in the makeshift ops center. “It seems it’s something of a no-fly zone,” he explained. “Reports are hazy but there’s suggestions that some low-flying aircraft have failed to return from the area in the last few weeks.”
“Sounds serious.” Grant nodded. “What about the interphaser—could we access a gateway in there?”
The options that Grant was suggesting covered many of the established forms of long-distance transportation that the Cerberus rebels had come to rely upon. The Mantas were transatmospheric aircraft that were stored at the hangar of the old Cerberus redoubt in Montana. The interphaser, the
Grant ignored the two antagonistic females, relaxing his eyes as he meditated on the nonspace created between his touching fingers. It had been fifteen hours since the incident with Edwards, and he had hoped that he might remain while the operation was performed on the man’s brain so that he could witness with the rest of them just what it was that was growing there. However, with the satellite feeds back online, something urgent had come up. Via its network of contacts, Cerberus had amassed several reports of people going missing out near the banks of the river known as the Euphrates. Not just one or two people, but dozens, perhaps more than one hundred. Lakesh had replayed Grant the surveillance footage taken from Iraq, close to the mouth of the Euphrates and Tigris rivers. The overhead footage showed a city structure expanding on the banks of the Euphrates. The settlement that had not been there six months before. Constructed of an off-white stone of unknown origin, the ville was expanding at a rapid rate. That wasn’t unusual in this age of displaced persons and in itself it shouldn’t be cause for alarm. What was alarming was the shape of the burgeoning ville—it quite clearly took the form of a winged creature, drawn across the fertile soil of the riverbank.
“A dragon,” Grant had said as he had stared at the incredible surveillance photos.
“Or perhaps a dragon ship,” Lakesh had said, emphasizing the word ship . His implication was clear. The Cerberus team had become aware of the Annunaki starship Tiamat as it lurked high above the atmosphere, and Grant had been a part of the team on board when the ship had begun its self-destruct sequence, watched from space as its exploding form had filled the heavens with light. To have another of the starships appear like this—on Earth—was without doubt a cause for concern.
Well prepared for the briefing, Lakesh had called up backdated surveillance footage showing the expansion of the settlement from apparent nothingness just six months ago. While it appeared to be a city, there was no mistaking the implication of that swooping, winged shape. Several miles across, it crouched by the banks, head pointing off toward the north while the right-hand flank abutted the river itself, a curving tail winding downward in a southerly direction. The mighty wings were stretched wide in imitation of a crescent, the creature’s right wing crossing the width of the river in a curving bridge. It was unclear from the photographs, but it appeared that buildings were constructed on the wing-bridge as elsewhere, adhering to the dragonlike shape of the vast settlement.
“We need to look into this,” Grant had agreed. “If only we had the Mantas, then me and Kane could…” He stopped, the words turning to ashes on his tongue. He had partnered with Kane for so long that to take on a mission like this without him, even a simple recce, seemed anathema to the way things worked.
“We’re just amassing reports from the local area,” Donald Bry had explained from his position at another computer terminal in the makeshift ops center. “It seems it’s something of a no-fly zone,” he explained. “Reports are hazy but there’s suggestions that some low-flying aircraft have failed to return from the area in the last few weeks.”
“Sounds serious.” Grant nodded. “What about the interphaser—could we access a gateway in there?”
The options that Grant was suggesting covered many of the established forms of long-distance transportation that the Cerberus rebels had come to rely upon. The Mantas were transatmospheric aircraft that were stored at the hangar of the old Cerberus redoubt in Montana. The interphaser, the
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