Timeless (The Cartographer Book 3) (27 page)

I peered around the corner of the truck and counted three robot corpses, and I frowned in disappointment. I hoped to have taken out more. When the turret ceased firing, the robots emerged from their hiding spots and continued their advance. Athew roared out in pain as a plasma beam tore through his leg. A high-pitched scream was cut short as Bella fell under the onslaught. She died the same way she claimed she was born—with a rifle in her hands.

I had another turret in my pocket, but I did not want to take a chance with using it. Janero's forces were too close now and there would be too much collateral damage done by friendly fire.

“
The best way to catch them off guard is to rush them
,” Cantrell's voice roared over the radio. “
We might stun them long enough to take a few of them out
.”

“
Agreed
,” replied Hiro.

Before we could put the plan into action, Bofor crawled out from behind a nearby vehicle with guitar in hand. He pointed the head to the advancing horde and stood as if he was about to serenade them. He turned to me and nodded.

“TAKE COVER!” I shouted into the radio.

Bofor's fingers danced across the strings methodically. Sparks flew from the robots caught in the line of fire. Although I didn't see anything, I knew the sonic waves he had described earlier were working their magic. Bofor took about five of them out before Janero's return fire caused him to dive behind the same truck I was hiding behind.

“What the hell was that?” Cantrell's concerned voice echoed over the radio.

“KISS THE DRAGON!” Bofor shouted, his face contorted behind a red veil of rage.

I had no idea what “kiss the dragon” meant, but I assumed it was some sort of Gliese-based curse upon one's enemy. Even though his attack managed to take out only five of the advancing robots, it bought enough time for the remaining rebels to get close. Barrel-Chest was the first to reach them. He pounced on the closest robot and wrapped his arms around its neck in a death grip. The robot flailed wildly and its fingers tore at the man's flesh, leaving behind angry lines of red. The robot didn't stand a chance. The man popped its head off like a cork from a champagne bottle. He held the head in his hands and he spit on it before tossing it aside like a piece of trash. He turned toward another one when his face exploded outward, raining flesh and bone on the dusty street. The large man fell to the ground revealing Janero holding a large-barreled weapon similar to a shotgun, smoke oozing from the tip.

The robots took out three rebels for every robot they destroyed. The odds were not tipping in our favor. As quick as the surge began, it was over. Every rebel, except Bofor, lay dead or dying. Hiro and Cantrell were the only mercenaries still alive with the exception of Athew, who suffered from a grisly wound to the knee. The meter embedded in the helmet counted seventeen enemies. We were outnumbered three and a half to seventeen. I looked across the parking lot to Cantrell who was hidden behind a semi-truck. He ripped off his helmet in fury and held out his rifle.

He was out of ammo
.

It was over. The sound of gravel crunching underneath their heavy metal boots was nothing more than Taps playing for our funeral. The slow rhythmic drumming of their metallic legs rubbing against one another provided the melodic conclusion to our battle. We would not go out in a blaze of glory, but an anticlimactic whimper. Athew's cries of pain only served to stress the pinnacle of our defeat. Hiro whispered and gestured animatedly at Cantrell, who answered by shaking his head in dismay. He dropped his useless rifle between his legs with dejection and stared at the ground.

Before Janero's forces could reach us, a loud, crackling sound came from the tree line. It was like a static shock had been magnified a thousand times. I looked up at the sky assuming a thunderstorm was coming, but no clouds could be seen. Cantrell and I exchanged confused glances while cries of alarm rang out around us.

An explosion resonated from the street right before a flaming robot carcass flew past our hiding spot. Bofor peered around the corner in an attempt to see what was going on.

“Do you see anything?” I asked.

“I can't see a damn thing,” he growled. “I see a few robot heads bobbing up and down, but there are too many vehicles in the way. It appears something has them spooked.”

“What spooks a robot?” I craned my head to get a better look. Another robot exploded in a tornado of sparks and flaming wires.

Cantrell jammed his helmet onto his head. “It seems someone has our back out there,” he roared through the radio. “We need to take advantage of our good fortune.” Hiro checked his ammunition before handing him a knife. Cantrell switched his gaze to Bofor. “Wait here. There's no sense in you going out there armed with nothing more than your ugly mug.”

Bofor scowled, but remained silent. A guy armed with a guitar (an actual guitar, not the sonic type) would be as useless as a fart in a blizzard. I clutched my handgun with both hands and held the side of the barrel to the top of my helmet and started breathing deeply and methodically. Although it appeared like I was praying, I was actually practicing a mind-cleansing technique Vanth had taught me. I closed my eyes and drowned out the sound of the radio and the images on my view screen. It was as if Vanth stood before me with his face, devoid of emotion, clutching his staff and barking at me.

Before any battle, take long deep breaths and clear your mind. An addled mind will soon turn into a defeated mind. Think clearly and aim precisely, otherwise you will quickly learn the meaning of regret.

I didn't come all this way for regret and defeat. We will win this battle because there is too much at stake. I owe it to all those who had fallen in battle as well as those who still willing to fight for our cause.

“Ready?” Cantrell asked. He crouched behind the vehicle with the knife clutched in his hand. Hiro lingered behind him, one hand on the small of Cantrell's back. They were prepared to spring into battle as one cohesive unit, a sign of years of combat training.

“Let's do this,” I replied.

They sprang into action and I followed. I stumbled over a robot corpse, but regained my footing. It didn't matter, though, because I ran face first into Hiro and Cantrell, who had stopped their advance. A man with his back toward us, roughly seven feet tall, was locked in battle with one of Janero's robots. He held a staff by the middle with both hands, using it to parry the robot's attacks. On each side of the weapon was an oblong orb that crackled with blue tendrils of energy. The man struck the robot with a vicious blow. The robot shattered as lighting met steel where it fell to pieces at the stranger's feet. Slowly, he turned toward us and my blood froze.

He was an Orgellian, or rather, he used to be. The skin on his face hung in loose ribbons around his cheek. His beard, which I assumed was once a golden brown, was chalky gray and was clumped in places with dried blood and chunks of grime. An angry red scar caressed what was left of his left cheek. Two clear tubes ran from the top of his back, underneath his body armor, and ended at his nostrils. The tubes pumped a smoky substance into his lungs, as if he inhaled cigarette smoke instead of air. His eyes were nothing more than two red spheres, like blood-filled sockets. The creature's lips curled into a feral snarl, revealing dark-brown teeth which had rotted long ago.

“What the hell?” Cantrell exclaimed. For the first time since I had met him, he seemed unsure of himself. He held the knife in front of him and spread his legs in a combat stance. Hiro trained his rifle on the creature who uttered a guttural growl of indifference.

“Settle down, we are on the same side,” a voice called from the street. The dust of the battle settled and a shadowy figure entered the parking lot.

“Mortem!” I exclaimed.

A smile broke through the shadows underneath his cowl. “Surprised to see me?” He clutched the head of one of Janero's robots, turning it over in his hands, as if he were studying it. “Hmmm, interesting bit of technology,” he mused before tossing the head aside like a piece of trash. He placed his hand on the Orgellian-creature's shoulder. “I was never a big fan of modern technology. I prefer old school.” He laughed menacingly.

“Get your filthy hands off me,” a voice screamed from the tree line. Janero was being led (actually dragged) across the street by another monstrosity. This person was in much better shape than the Orgellian who stood before us, however, he had the same tubular system hooked up to his nose and bore a hole in his temple that looked like a gunshot wound. Dried blood caked the right side of his face and one eye socket was empty. The other socket contained a scarlet orb just like the Orgellian's. Judging by the dark skin and powdery hair, I assumed this person was once a Drith-Nar. The creature threw Janero to the ground at Mortem's feet.

“What do we have here?” Mortem asked. “It seems to be one of the troublesome tools of the Consortium.” Janero struggled to get up, but Mortem kicked him down to the ground and placed the heel of his dark, leathery boot over his throat. “You just stay right there, otherwise I might be forced to feed you to my minion here.”

Janero's aviator goggles hung awkwardly at an angle. He reached up and tore them from his face. “What are you people?” he choked out the question as Mortem used his boot to squeeze his neck harder.

“What indeed,” Cantrell added, still clutching the knife defensively.

Mortem removed his foot from Janero's neck. Several more creatures approached us from the tree line. Most carried weapons similar to the Orgellian, but others carried limbs and other body parts from Janero's robots. Through the beast's scars and stench of death, I recognized some of the races. I observed humans, Caelumites, Kamilians, and even a Hydrophant among them. It was as if I was thrust into a bad horror movie.

“These are my soldiers,” Mortem explained. “Some call them minions; others call them The Mindless Ones, however, I call them the next stage in evolution.” He circled Janero before moving toward the corpse of Bella. “The cycle of life has only one ending…death,” he continued. “I spent centuries researching death. She embraced me with open arms and guided me through the perils of my investigations.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a syringe. The vial contained a sickly, pale-green substance. He crouched over the corpse of Bella and stroked her forehead gently. The touch was not malicious, but rather resembled one a father would give a daughter. “This one's soul was filled with a fire I have not seen in some time.” He stuck the needle into her arm and depressed the plunger. “She will make an excellent addition to my collection.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Cantrell demanded.

Mortem stood and his faded amber eyes narrowed into mere slits. “I am bringing her back, of course.”

As if on cue, her eyes opened and she stared toward the sky. When she turned her gaze toward us, her eye sockets were replaced by red orbs. The mortal wound located on her chest stopped bleeding, but when she stood up, some of the pooled blood fell from it and trickled to the ground in droplets. She looked down at the rifle in her hand before letting it fall to the ground. She acted as if she had never seen it before.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Cantrell demanded.

Her mouth opened and closed slowly, like a fish out of water. Mortem turned to the Orgellian zombie. “Take her back to the ship.” The Orgellian grabbed her and flipped her over his shoulder before shambling into the woods. “To answer your question,” Mortem said as he returned his attention to us, “I did nothing. The only thing I did was improve the natural order of things.”

“What do you mean?” I lowered my weapon and stepped forward. As much as I was mortified at what just happened, I was equally curious.

Mortem shook his head. “There is no time to explain, there are other more important matters that need tending to.” He cupped my elbow in his hand and an icy chill ran all the way up to my shoulder. “You will come to learn that sometimes the natural order of the universe needs to be…
enhanced
.” He gestured toward the Drith-Nar creature. “Let's go, we have more work to do here.”

I shouted at him before he could vanish into the woods. “Wait! Are these soldiers of yours actually zombies?”

Mortem uttered a gravelly chuckle. It sounded like rocks spinning in a blender. “You humans are always thinking in such abstract terms. If something does not conform to your preconceived notions than it must be demonized as a monster or written off as some sort of work of divine intervention.” Mortem shook his head slowly. “No, my friend, they are not
zombies
nor are they demons.” He cupped his hands in front of him. “Think of the entire planet of Gliese as representing the infinite universe. Within my cupped hands is everything you currently understand.” He swept his arm across the countryside. “You have yet to discover all of
this
.” He disappeared among the trees.

“Well, that solved nothing,” grumbled Hiro. He pointed the barrel of his rifle toward Janero. “What should we do with this guy?”

Janero propped himself up on his elbows and glared at me through wide eyes. “Is this what you stand for?” He pointed towards the woods where Mortem vanished. “Are these the people you ally with?” He started to get up, but thought better when Hiro's rifle barrel stood inches from his face. He resigned himself to a kneeling position.

“They are no worse than you or your allies,” I countered. “You murdered Kedge. Your allies started a war for power and profit. We are here to end your tyranny.”

“My tyranny?” he scoffed. He bowed his head and spoke softly. “No, my friend, there is no tyranny here…only desire. I desire to prevent what happened on my planet from happening to others.” When he looked up at me, his eyes were filled with intense rage. “Remember the stories I told you regarding Gorganna's past? Look at what happened to your own planet. Power in the hands of the few overcomes the needs of the many. Don't you want to stop this vicious cycle? Every person has the right to live within a peaceful society.”