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Pico Airport
Pico Island, Azores
Present Day

 

Professor James Acton grinned and waved at the group of men waiting for them on the tarmac. Not too long ago, these same men had killed his students, and tried to kill him, all based upon false intel provided by a corrupt administration, indicating he was the head of a domestic terror cell, and his students were his followers who had already killed US personnel associated with DARPA. This Delta team, members of 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, had eliminated what they thought was a terror cell, and once they discovered the truth, refused to follow their illegal orders, nearly resulting in the death of the man now approaching them with his hand extended, Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson. Acton shook his hand while Laura was embraced by her biggest fans, Niner and Atlas. After years of atonement, these men were now friends, their past sins forgiven, the sight of them no longer causing fear.

“Great to see you guys,” said Acton as he shook the others’ hands. He gestured at their surroundings. “Kind of an odd place for you guys to be, isn’t it?”

Dawson led them toward a nearby vehicle. “No, Lajes Air Base is here, and it’s quite often used as a layover point. We’re between missions and the Colonel gave us a few days on the beaches.”

Acton couldn’t keep up with the pleasantries anymore. “Which is when you guys found the trident?”

Niner held up a finger. “Umm, I found it. If there’s any reward, it goes to me. I’ve got family starving back in Korea to feed.”

Atlas slugged Niner’s shoulder, sending him stumbling to the side. “Your parents are from South Korea. I thought we settled this.”

Niner shrugged. “Jimmy met them. You saw how skinny they were.”

Jimmy gave him a look. “No skinnier than you, you tool. Ever heard of genetics?”

Acton grinned at Laura, always loving the banter between the various Bravo Team members, their bond so tight, even the most outrageous insults were always taken in good fun.

He loved it.

Dawson opened the rear of an SUV, then looked about to see if anyone was watching. Niner darted ahead, presenting a blanket wrapped object with the aplomb of a grand marshal in a royal court.

“M’Lady, M’Lord, I present to you, the Fork of Atlantis.”

“Fork of Atlas!” coughed the big man.

Niner gave Atlas the eye, then flipped the blanket aside. Acton gasped as his heart pounded, there still some doubt until this moment as to whether they were being set up for a prank. He immediately began taking video with his phone as Laura climbed in the back, a measuring tape out.

“The object is one-hundred-eight-two centimeters long from end to end, thirty-four centimeters at its widest point, and sixteen centimeters in circumference around the base.” She lifted it gently. “The object is heavy, implying either solid metal, or metal plating over metal or stone. The exposed areas, here and here”—she indicated several locations scraped clear of the barnacles encrusting the object—“suggest at a minimum gold plating, though my initial guess is that it is solid gold from the weight. When we properly weigh it, we’ll know.” She pointed at the engraving that had them so excited back home. “This engraving seems to match the description Plato gave of Atlantis—”

“So I did discover Atlantis?” interrupted an obviously elated Niner. He shoved Jimmy. “I told you!”

“—suggests that it could be from Atlantis, thus proving it wasn’t a myth, or it could merely be an artifact created after Plato wrote his description in Timaeus. We won’t know until we can carbon date the surface buildup.”

Dawson leaned forward. “Can you carbon date the gold itself?”

Acton shook his head. “No, in order to carbon date something, it has to have carbon in it. Gold is a base element, so it can’t contain carbon. The barnacles that have built up on this over the years should allow us to figure out how long it has been underwater, since they contain carbon. If that predates Plato’s writings, then it would strongly suggest that either Atlantis did exist, or Plato was inspired by some other city for his story.”

Atlas leaned against the SUV, the suspension protesting. “This Plato dude, why’s he so important? Beyond inventing playdough and being some ancient Greek philosopher, why is he so tied to Atlantis?”

Laura climbed back out of the SUV. “Because the first known reference to Atlantis was contained in his book, where it described an advanced civilization that lay beyond the Pillars of Hercules, with an incredible city built in concentric circles, with harbors and canals carved into the island, in ever greater widths.” She pointed at the engraving. “Exactly like that.”

Dawson scratched the stubble on his chin. “Were there any other writings?”

“Yes, after his, there were others, but all seemed to be referring back to his initial text, then trying to attribute other things in history to the Atlanteans, that had previously been thought to be other cultures. Really, so few texts still exist from back then, there’s no real way to know. Most modern academics believe that Atlantis was merely a metaphor that Plato used to describe the perfect civilization that he felt Greece should strive toward, and in fact, the Atlanteans were the bad guys in his narrative.”

Niner grunted. “Bad Atlanteans? That fits what my Stargate tells me.” He folded his arms. “Well, there’s another way to settle this.”

Acton smiled at him. “Pay a visit to where you found it.”