Timeless (The Cartographer Book 3) (17 page)

Hours passed before he faded into the blackness of sleep. He didn't sleep long because soon the blackness faded into light, and the sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Although he didn't know what time it was, he knew this would be an unscheduled visit. Perhaps his time had run out.

The main door to the detention wing opened and the detention center commander strolled in. He was a surly fellow from the planet Atrora with a lack of patience and a short fuse. Most of the bird-men of Atrora came equipped with little patience, which made them perfect for dirty jobs, like these. They don't put up with any crap from the prisoners and hold sympathy for no one. He seemed grumpier lately and Moro chalked it up to boredom. A warden without prisoners was like a child with no toys. He had nothing to play with. He greeted the commander with a sarcastic smile, but it quickly faded when he saw who stood behind him.

“You have a guest,” the commander hissed. His high-pitched voice shredded every nerve in Moro's body.

“Aren't I the lucky one?” Moro growled.

With a derisive chuckle, the commander shut off the laser protection grid surrounding the door, and it slid aside with a soft whooshing sound. He stepped aside to allow Kale to enter the cell.

Moro took one look at Kale and rolled his eyes. “Are you here to beat a confession out of me? Judging by the look of your bowl, you aren't pleased,” he added sarcastically.

Kale turned to the commander. “Leave us.”

The commander fixed his beady eyes on Kale and shrugged. “Whatever, but first I will need you to step inside so I can reactivate the grid.” He pointed a clawed finger at Moro. “We don't need that one escapin'.”

Kale waved his hand dismissively. “Fine.”

After re-engaging the laser grid, the commander stomped down the hall and slammed the door. When Kale was sure the commander was gone, he turned to Moro.

“I assume they are treating you well?”

“Not as well as you,” Moro grumbled.

Kale removed a small silver cylinder, no bigger than a pen. He circled the room, waving the cylinder up and down, tracing the architecture of the wall. When he reached the bed, he stooped down and waved the object underneath.

“They don't have any listening devices,” Moro assured him. “They haven't exactly provided me with legal counsel or conjugal visits from the Sirens of Meridian Five.”

Kale stood up with a sigh. “It never hurts to be cautious. Perhaps, if you had done the same, we wouldn't be standing here right now.”

His statement stung Moro, but he refused to show it. His miscalculation regarding Calypso was a sore spot. He bit back a retort and lowered his eyes.

Kale removed his helmet to reveal his true identity of Scribe. He adjusted the scarf that covered the lower half of his face and ran his fingers through his hair. “I hate wearing this damned thing. I cannot linger here for long because Calypso has his eye on me.”

“You have been compromised?” Moro asked.

Scribe shook his head. “No, but I'm sure Calypso has his suspicions.”

“So why are you here?” Moro shifted his weight and took a seat at the edge of the bed. The shackles dug into his wrists, but he refused to acknowledge the pain.

Scribe frowned at the shackles. “It seems those are a bit of an overkill, don't you agree?”

Moro shrugged. “Not really. They know I will kill them with my bare hands.”

Scribe offered him a wry smile. “They are probably correct. Anyway, to answer your question, I am here to discuss recent changes as a result of your capture.”

The words were like a slap to the face. “Come to rub salt in the wound, huh?” Moro grumbled.

Scribe turned serious. “Not at all.” A dull gray object slipped from his palm and fell to the floor with a clatter. It was a smooth round cylinder with two magnetic contacts on the end—the key to his shackles. “I wanted to let you know the situation has changed. Gliese has joined the ranks of the Consortium. Calypso has upped the ante, and he will collect by using you as a bargaining chip with Ibune. She will be forced to comply because it is either tyrant-governed peace or the imminent demise of The Timeless. We are sorely outnumbered and outgunned to the point that Mortem's outrageous suggestion has been voted on and passed.”

Moro looked up from the key. His eyes were filled with disbelief. “Surely, there is another way! Mortem's ideas are an abomination.”

Scribe slid the bowl helmet over his head before nodding his agreement. “I agree with you, but we have no choice. The only thing we can do now is to eliminate certain factors which may play in Calypso's favor.” He slammed his fist against the wall. “I'M READY TO GO,” he shouted.

The commander entered the cell block even surlier than before. “Alright, I'm comin,' calm yerself.”

Moro extended his leg and dragged the key toward the bed using his foot. He kept it covered with his foot so the commander wouldn't see it when he shut off the security grid. As soon as the grid shut down, Scribe stepped out. The commander removed the key from the slot and the grid sprang to life.

Before he left, Scribe turned to Moro. “Do not forget what we discussed. Much hinges upon your decision. The future of the Consortium, as well as your Insurgents, counts on your decision.”

They left, but not before the commander tossed a final sour look at Moro. The door closed and darkness once again descended upon him. He slid his foot closer to the bed. The key made a dull scraping sound against the floor. Within the dark confines of the cell, it sounded like someone was dragging a dagger across the metal floor. He felt around the darkness until his shackled hands found the key which was cold to the touch. With a simple swipe of his hands, the magnetic leads in the key would unlock the cuffs. He didn't immediately unlock them, instead focused his mind on Scribe's words.

“
Eliminate certain factors which would play in Calypso's favor
,” he had said. Moro knew what he had to do. He turned the key in his hand and bent his wrist, running the end of it over the cuffs. They fell to the floor with a metallic thud. He rubbed the soreness from his wrists and leaned back against the bed. “Thank you Scribe, I am ready,” he whispered to the darkness before doing the only thing he could do at the time.

He waited.

The Voyage of the Humans

Stellar Horizon

This is just my second entry in this journal. I'm not completely sure what my goal is outside of simply writing my thoughts down and recording them for the future. This entry is being written with a heavy heart. Our mission to Gliese was a failure and I lost someone I had considered a mentor. We are on our way to rendezvous with the scattered remains of our forces. Not all news is bad, however. Embeth and Ibune have established a base on Vaire. The Hydrophants have routed the remaining Shreen forces threatening their ocean borders, allowing safe passage for the Insurgents. Their underwater facilities allow a secure base from which to coordinate our activities. I would still trade it all for the chance to hold Deena's hand one last time, to laugh at one of Satou's bad jokes, or to stand side by side with Kedge again.

We were able to escape Gliese without resistance from the Order, which means, it is another life debt I owe to Yori and Jori. I vowed to Bofor that we would return and make things right on Gliese, and it is one vow I do not plan on breaking.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I placed the stylus down and shouted, “Come in.”

Lianne strolled in with a broad smile on her face, carrying a small black box, no bigger than a tissue box. She had removed her Defense Fleet uniform earlier and put on something a bit more casual—loose fitting cargo pants and a silver sweatshirt with the familiar gold star and comet logo of the Fleet emblazoned on the front.

“You certainly look cheerful today,” I quipped.

She placed the box on the desk and pulled up a chair. The top half of the box was connected to the bottom half by a gold hinge. “I am,” she replied. “I bring you some good news for once.”

“Is this an early Christmas present for me?” I countered with a wry smile.

She chuckled. “You could say that. Go ahead and open it.”

I lifted the lid. Inside was a circular white object with a digital screen embedded in the center. It was no bigger than a hockey puck, but when I removed it from the box, it was much heavier and constructed from some sort of solid metal.

“What is it?” I asked, turning it over in my hands. “It's a little heavier than it looks,” I remarked before setting it back down on the table.

Lianne stood up and slid over to my side of the desk. She leaned over my shoulder to reach a switch on the side of the object. As she did so, her auburn hair fell off onto my shoulder. It smelled like a combination of cinnamon and apples. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, recalling a time back home when my grandmother used to bake her famous apple pie. The aroma carried me back to a happier time in my life and I embraced it with open arms. I opened my eyes when Lianne's slender neck touched my shoulder lightly. She stared at me through bright lavender eyes. I had a sudden overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss her, but resisted when I saw the look of concern in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I snapped out of my trance. “Oh yeah…I'm ok.” I felt a flush creeping into my cheeks and I turned away quickly. “I was…um…just thinking about something.”

She leaned back, cleared her throat and guided my attention to the object. “This is a Talaan, a Kamilian-made recording device.”

“So are you going to start recording me now?” I tossed her a sly look, but it melted away when she flashed me a scowl.

“Do you think I don't trust you?” she replied.

My attempt to flirt had backfired horribly. I raised my hands in the air innocently and tried to diffuse the situation. “No, that's not what I meant at all. What I meant was…um…well ah…,” I stuttered.

Her scowl faded and changed into a wide smile. “Ah-ha! I really had you going there for a minute!”

My jaw dropped. “Oh my God! Lianne you
DO
have a sense of humor!”

“Occasionally,” she said with a shrug. “But don't tell anyone; I wouldn't want my reputation to be harmed in any way.” Her eyes drifted to the Talaan and she folded her arms across her chest in a triumphant pose.

I turned to see a holographic image of a ship hovering three inches above the Talaan. The ship was odd in design. It had a bullet-shaped hull with three smaller oval decks attached. The holographic image glowed with a ghostly green color, which made the ship look as if it were floating in a pile of green Jell-O. Several smaller V-shaped ships escorted it towards the planet.

“What is it?” I asked.

“After everything that has happened, I felt you needed a bit of good news.” She pinched her thumb and index finger together and placed them on the screen. Slowly, she slid them apart and the image zoomed out, revealing a planet in the distance. The planet looked like Earth, except it too was bathed in the ghostly green glow of the holograph. “That ship is a Kamilian Ark,” she explained.

My eyes widened and I found myself filled with hope once again. “Is that what I think it is?”

Her smile widened, revealing perfectly white teeth. “That ship is carrying approximately one hundred thousand humans to Vexall. Three more ships are due to reach the planet in three weeks.”

I placed a hand across my lips. It happened to be the artificial one so the taste of coppery metal filled my mouth. I felt the tears creeping along the corners of my eyes, but this time I did not hold them back. These tears were born from joy.
A hundred thousand people! THREE MORE SHIPS!
Almost a half million people had been rescued, not counting those Ehoro whisked away aboard his flying saucers. It wasn't a lot given the population of Earth at the time of the invasion was just over seven billion, but it provided hope: Hope for the future of mankind. I composed myself as best I could while silently cursing myself for becoming too emotional. Vanth would have clubbed me over the head with his staff without question.

“How many have been rescued so far?” I asked softly.

Lianne pursed her lips and closed her eyes in silent calculation. She touched the tip of her thumb with each finger as she did it. Halfway through, she stopped and growled. “Damn!” She opened her eyes and looked at me apologetically. “Sorry Nathan, I was never really good at math.” She walked over to the communication panel on the wall and pushed the button. “Gard, are you there?”

After a brief pause, he responded with his usual stoic demeanor. “
Yes sir.”

“How many humans have been evacuated from Earth?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. I pictured Gard silently counting fingers, which I found quite humorous, but his response was not. “
Two point seven million have completed transport or are in the process of transportation, according to Ehoro's latest estimate.”

Lianne turned around, her eyes full of sorrow. “I'm sorry Nathan, I know that is a low percentage, but they hope to get back to Earth for a second pick up before the atmosphere disintegrates.”