By David Sakmyster
A mythical treasure chamber hidden underneath the traditional Pharos Lighthouse has defied discovery for over thousand years...Until Caleb Crowe and his workforce of psychic archaeologists dare the very unlikely.
"THE PHAROS goal is Indiana Jones meets the X-Files -- an archaeologist adventurer with psychic powers of distant viewing who can see the earlier, old treasures, ancient mysteries, motion and event that crosses the realm, and a damned sturdy story." -- Kevin J. Anderson, no 1 overseas bestselling writer of the sting of the World.
"This is a e-book I want i would written - nice premise - nice imagination!" --M.J. Rose, foreign bestselling writer of The Reincarnationist and The Memorist
"A vintage reliable vs. evil tale, a unique that stored me turning pages some distance into the night." --Nina M. Osier, writer of 2005 EPPIE technology fiction winner Regs and the High Places trilogy.
Quick preview of The Pharos Objective (Morpheus Initiative, Book 1) PDF
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Additional info for The Pharos Objective (Morpheus Initiative, Book 1)
He gasped, and his eyes rolled again in his head. “No,” he whispered, yet then he discovered this, too, used to be inevitable. He wasn’t performed soreness, deciding to buy his errors. “No . . . ” “Yes! Come on! ” Phoebe bounds up the stairs prior to him. She’s purely twelve, yet she is so quickly. Her auburn hair is tied again in a purple scrunchy, her t-shirt stained with dust and mud, her denims rolled up over her ankles. Caleb follows extra carefully, looking particular footholds at the crumbling stairs. He pauses and appears backpedal, 40 ft under, to the place the jungle greedily consumes every little thing past the bottom of the pyramid, stretching for miles in each course. again to the north, nearly 880 yards, is their base camp. Their mom is there with George Waxman and others. they're all so excited; this is often the 1st inland venture for the Morpheus Initiative. final month they spent per week in seclusion in Mexico urban whereas Phoebe and Caleb stayed of their room, subsisting on enchiladas and undesirable makes an attempt at American hamburgers, doing not anything yet enjoying warfare and move Fish, and interpreting, after all. Caleb was once regularly examining. Seven books that week, a lot to Phoebe’s dismay. yet then it occurred: Helen got here in a single morning, taking a look haggard, yet excited. “We chanced on it! ” she exclaimed, after which introduced Caleb and Phoebe into the smoke-filled convention room they’d reserved, a room jam-packed with drawings, taped sequentially at the partitions, all exhibiting a pyramid and a black door. Then far-off photographs of panorama, and coloured thumbtacks put on geological maps. “Found it,” she repeated, and approached Waxman the place he pored over a map with a compass and a protractor. “Here! ” he introduced. “We’ll make our procedure alongside this path, then plot out the direction to the tomb. ” “Tomb? ” Phoebe requested, eyes brightening. She used to be certainly her father’s baby. She enjoyed whatever historic, specifically something that may be choked with mummies and treasure. Now, a month later, within the middle of the darkest, inner most valley within the jungle, they’ve stumbled on the small pyramid, the tomb of the sixth-century Mayan King Nu’a Hunasco, inside which lies the tremendous wealth he had entombed with himself and his other halves. The knocking sounds of the recompression chamber thrummed in his cranium. White partitions bleached over the jungle colours for a second, and Caleb attempted to concentration, creating a half-hearted try to re-entangle himself within the current. concentrate on the vibrations right here, during this chamber, the sophisticated events of the waves tugging on the hull. however it was once little need. The white chipped away, layer by means of layer, revealing the fascinating scene painted in the back of it, impatient to be considered . . . Caleb and Phoebe wait at the stones on the most sensible of the tomb an hour after sunrise, surrounded through insects, swarms already alert and hungry, whereas their mom and the others are nonetheless again of their tents, simply waking up. “Bug spray’s donning off. ” Caleb slaps at plump mosquitoes with annoyance, attempting to think a few objective to their lives, a few final future deciding on the process their aerial struggles.