“God dammit, Mick, don’t do this, you’re freaking me out—” She grabs his arm, trying to drag him from the tub.

“Dom, stop.” He removes her hand from his wrist, then kisses it. “I’ll be okay—”

“You don’t know that—”

“Dom, One Hunahpu’s dead. If Guardian left us some means of saving ourselves, then I have to find it.”

“Okay, so we’ll look around this ship. Radiating yourself within that coffin isn’t going to resolve anything.”

“It’s not radiation. I know it sounds bizarre, but I think it’s a portal.”

“A portal? A portal to what?”

“I don’t know, but I have to find out. I love you—”

“Mick, get the fuck out of there now!”

He lies back. As his head touches bottom, a neon blue light ignites from within, enveloping him in energy. Before Dominique can protest, an unseen magnetic force field jolts her backwards, away from the tomb.

She lands hard on her back. Regaining her feet, she looks inside the granite tub, shielding her eyes from the blazing, warm glow.

Mick’s body has disappeared within the light.

Raven Rock Underground Command Center
Maryland

2:19 A.M.

President Mailer and his senior military advisors, fists clenched, stare at the image of Viktor Grozny, the pale Russian president wearing a black sweater, a large Victorian cross dangling from his neck.

On the screen to the left is General Xiliang, the older man looking quite pale. The UN Secretary-General is on the right.

“General, President Grozny, please hear me out,” Mailer pleads. “The United States is not responsible for these fusion detonations. None of our nations are! Let us prove it to you before we destroy half the world!”

“Show us,” the Secretary-General says.

Viktor Grozny remains impassive.

Mailer turns to Pryzstas. “Do it. Download the image.”

The secretary of defense transmits the Boone’s video.

On the other side of the command center, General Joseph Fecondo struggles to maintain his composure as he prays with his son, Adam, and the two base commanders at Elmendorf and Eielson Air Force Bases in Alaska.

The TIME TO IMPACT: ALASKA clock superimposed on each video-comm ticks down to the final five seconds.

Adam Przystas and the two Air Force colonels salute their commanding officer.

General Fecondo returns the salute, tears streaming down his face as the images of his son and the two COs disappear in a flash of brilliant white light.

Mailer watches the main screens as the Russian and Chinese leaders’ faces replace the video of the alien maelstrom.

“What nonsense is this?” General Xiliang shouts, his face contorted in anger.