Free The Atlantis Legacy - A01-A02 by Thomas Greanias Page A

distinguishing exterior characteristic. Beyond its sheer size, of course.”
    Conrad touched the benben stone again, still incredulous that civilization existed on Earth at an earlier date and at a more advanced level than even he previously imagined.
    “P4,” Conrad repeated. So that’s what they were calling it. Shorthand for the Pyramid of the Four Rings. It made sense. “And it’s at least twelve thousand years old.”
    Yeats said, “If it’s as old as this benben stone, then P4 is at least six billion years old, son.”
    “Six billion?” Conrad repeated. “That’s impossible. Earth is only four and a half billion years old. You’re telling me that P4 could be older than the planet?”
    “That’s correct,” Yeats said. “And it’s right under our feet.”

7
DISCOVERY PLUS TWENTY-FOUR DAYS, FIFTEEN HOURS
    Y EATS COULD HEAR THE FAINT STRAINS of Mozart beneath the drone of two ventilation fans pumping air inside his compartment as he watched Conrad analyze the data from P4 on his laptop.
    Cupping a mug of hot coffee in his bandaged hand, Conrad shook his head. “Nothing ever changes with you, Dad, does it?”
    Yeats stiffened. “Meaning?”
    “You never taught me how to fly a kite or how to throw a split-fingered fastball when I was growing up,” Conrad said. “No, I had to learn that kind of stuff on my own. With you it was always, ‘What do you think of this weapons system design, son?’ or ‘How’d you like to watch the launch of my new spy satellite?’ And whenever I see you on this stinking planet, the scenery is always the same. It’s always some military base. Always dark. Always cold. Always snowing.”
    Yeats glanced out the picture window at the storm raging outside. The whiteout was so bad he couldn’t even see the ice gorge anymore. What was left of the C-130 was long buried by now. He was relieved Conrad had survived the crash, and he was happy to see him. But it was clear Conrad didn’t feel the same way, and that hurt.
    “Maybe I bring it with me.” Yeats poured himself a third shot of whiskey and nodded to the laptop data. “Anyway, the analysis dating appears conclusive.”
    “For the benben stone only,” Conrad began as another wave of those trainlike shudders passed through the room.
    “That was ours,” Yeats said, referring to the drilling being done toclear the ice around the top of P4 at the bottom of the abyss. “You’ll know the real jolt when you feel it.”
    “And you think P4 is causing the earthquakes?”
    “You’re the genius, son. You tell me.”
    Conrad sipped his coffee and grimaced. “What the hell is this? Diesel sludge?”
    “It’s the water. The station’s supply comes from melted snow. The soy-based food is even worse.”
    Conrad pushed the coffee away. “Just because P4’s benben stone is allegedly six billion years old doesn’t mean the rest of the pyramid is that old or that aliens built it.”
    “Who said anything about aliens?” Yeats tried to maintain a blank expression, but Conrad was way ahead of him.
    “Meteorites have been bombarding the earth since the planet was first formed—like that four-and-a-half-billion-year-old Martian rock they found here in Antarctica a few years back,” Conrad said. “Humans could have found a meteorite billions of years later and carved it into a benben stone.”
    Yeats downed his Jack Daniel’s. “If that makes you feel better.”
    “Well, somebody built P4,” Conrad said. “And they built it long before ice covered Antarctica or any human civilization was thought to exist. Whatever else the builders of P4 were, they were advanced, possibly more advanced than present-day human civilization.”
    Yeats nodded. “Which means whoever gains access to their technology theoretically could alter the world’s balance of power.”
    “Still paranoid about asymmetrical force?” Conrad said. “No wonder you’re willing to risk lives and break international law by fielding a military presence in