BY: PUNISHER
“In conclusion, one of the principal dangers of archeology is not necessarily to life
and limb…although that sometimes happens…but rather the danger posed by the
interpretation of local folklore. In this particular case, the locals believed that a
hybrid race inhabited the reefs offshore and worshipped Dagon, a rather malicious
fish-god. They therefore felt it was their duty to destroy all the ancient temples which
accounts for the generally poor condition of the find. The island's location in the South
Pacific was rather unfortunate as it served as a strategic base for the Japanese forces in
the recent war. And although it is 1947 now, conditions in the region have not stabilized
to the point to where a valid archeological survey team can survey the site and assess the
damage.” Professor Indiana Jones stopped his lecture and looked into the audience.
Everyone was glued on his every word, a far stretch from his other lectures where most
often people were bored. Unfortunately, his lecture had come to an end. “That’s
pretty much it. Does anyone have any questions?”
A young man stood. “Dr. Jones. Is there any truth to the rumors that you discovered
the Ark of the Covenant?”
Indy was startled but didn’t let it show. He decided to pass it off as a joke.
“I’m sorry, I can’t answer that question on grounds of national
security.” Everyone laughed. “Does anyone have any other questions.”
Silence.
“All right then. I look forward to meeting you all at the social.” Indy gathered
his notes and diagrams and moved out into the hall. Miskatonic University’s foremost
professor, Dr. Armitage and Dr. Marcus Brody, curator of Indy’s museum, greeted him.
Brody spoke first, “Indiana, some men have come to see you. Important men.”
“We can use my office.” They followed Armitage into his office to meet with the
two government agents who had come to talk to Indy. They were the same two men who had
come to ask him about the Ark.
Indy’s guard was up. “What now? The Holy Grail? I already know where that
is.”
Both men didn’t even raise an eyebrow. “Dr. Jones. We’ve come to you again
because you are the foremost expert in the field. This is a matter of national, and
perhaps global, security. Can we still rely on your discretion?”
“Of course.”
One of the men opened a briefcase and slid some black and white glossy photographs out of
it. He slide them across the desk to Indy. “What can you tell us about these, Dr.
Jones?”
Indy looked at the pictures. Most showed strange I-beams that looked very delicate and
were covered from one end to the other with strange hieroglyphics. Indy had seen them
before. “I’ve seen glyphs like this before, in England when I was looking for
Excalibur…you know Av….” He almost said Avalon. He recovered,
“..Arthur’s sword. They were scattered on debris almost everywhere but mostly at
Glastonbury Tor and the small hill fort Amon Sul, which the locals call Weathertop. An
interesting archeological puzzle, but nothing more. What makes these glyphs so special the
U.S. government is interested in them?”
The men were dead serious.
“Dr. Jones. What if we told you that an extraterrestrial alien craft bearing these
markings crashed near Roswell, New Mexico one week ago.”
Indy didn’t know what to say.
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