Timeless (The Cartographer Book 3) (33 page)

“What the hell are the four of us gonna do when we get there?” Cantrell scoffed. “Maybe, if we are lucky, they will slip and fall on our blood, breaking their heads open in the process.”

“Let's go,” I grumbled. “There is no sense sitting here whining about it.” I grabbed Sam's hand with my left and held out my right.

Cantrell laughed. “Well, it seems you finally grew some balls.” He grabbed my hand and Hiro's. “Let's go before I change my mind.”

Sam was still struggling to catch his breath. I nudged him. “Are you sure you will be alright? You look as pale as a ghost.”

He nodded. “Don't worry I'm not going to throw up on your boots or anything. Wormhole travel takes a lot out of a person.” He stepped up to the portal and looked back at us. “You guys ready?” He waited for everyone to acknowledge before continuing. “Okay, on the count of three we are going through. No matter what happens, do not let go until your feet touch the ground.”

One.

Two.

Three.

We stepped through the portal. The first sensation that came to me was as if a giant vacuum was trying to suck my face right off the skull. All my breath was sucked from me and the only thing I could see or feel was Sam's hand. Nothing, but complete blackness surrounded us, like I stepped into the darkest recess of hell itself. Neither a speck of light nor a whisper of sound could be heard. I tried to turn my head to see if Hiro and Cantrell were still behind me, but found it extremely difficult to turn my head. The moisture in my eyes dried and it felt like I had contacts made of sandpaper pasted to my eyeballs. I closed them and screamed, but no sound came from my mouth. Before my sanity snapped like a rotten twig, I landed violently on solid ground. As I attempted to stand, Cantrell and Hiro bowled me over and we went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

Sam hauled me to my feet seconds before several bullets ricocheted off the ground next to me. “LET'S GO!” He shouted.

I could barely gather my thoughts before I found myself following Sam with Cantrell and Hiro hot on our heels. All around us was a scene straight out of a war movie. Mortem's forces were locked in melee combat with Calypso's forces. I caught a glimpse of Varooq, with a curved glaive in his hands, chop the head off of one of the minions. To my revulsion, the minion continued fighting for about a minute before dropping to the ground in a heap.

Sam landed us about three hundred yards from the main courtyard of the Akropolis. Zytran loomed before the door like Smaug guarding a wealth of treasure. As we cautiously passed it by, I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized the statue remained inactive. I just hoped it remained inactive long enough for us to complete our mission.

Several corpses lay near the front entrance. Most of them were Calypso's forces, some were Mortem's. Mortem was nowhere to be seen, but Ibune was nearby, fumbling at a control panel next to the main doors. We rushed over to her.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Trying to get this damn door open,” she hissed through clenched teeth. The panel hung from the wall with several wires protruding from it, like a spilled plate of spaghetti. She was poking and prodding each wire with an object that looked like a microphone.

Cantrell cocked his rifle and pointed it at the door. “We ain't got that kind of time.”

She looked up with a horrified look on her face. “NO!”

He fired before she could stop him. The bullet bounced off the door like it was made of rubber. I felt a breeze near my right ear and it wasn't until the bullet fragment struck the statue behind us, that I realized it almost hit me.

“What the hell?” he blurted.

“Do…not…do…that…again,” Ibune uttered each word individually, generously laced with venom. She turned her attention to the gutted control panel.

“How did it do that?” I asked.

“The door is protected by an energy field,” she explained. “I thought that would have been obvious since I was working on the control panel rather than bashing the door down.” She cast an angry glare toward Cantrell.

Cantrell shrugged. “Sorry.”

She passed the microphone-looking thing over the wires one final time before shoving it into a bag she had strapped to her back. She removed a long, slender blade from an ankle holster and held it up to a dull gray wire. “According to the scans, this should be the one,” she muttered.

With a flick of her wrist, she severed the wire, which caused a loud thud from the door, as if someone dropped a heavy book on the other side. She stood up and removed one of the brass knuckles from her waistband. As soon as she slipped her fingers through the loops, a curved blade of blue energy shot out from both sides, giving the weapon a shape similar to a crescent moon.

She tapped the end of the blade against the door several times. “It appears we are good to go.” She grabbed the handle and flung open the door.

Ibune removed the other brass knuckle from her waistband and stood in the doorway with her two crescent-moon shaped blades lighting the darkened hall.

Cantrell slid in formation beside me with his weapon trained on the doorway. Hiro moved beside him. Sam stopped me before I stepped forward.

“We are badly outnumbered. I am going to go back through the wormhole and see if I can bring back some reinforcements.”

“You better hurry then,” Cantrell grumbled. “We are gonna go from 'badly outnumbered' to 'laughable' any minute now.”

“Who's laughing?” Hiro asked sourly as Sam ran toward the wormhole.

“It won't be us unless we get to Calypso fast,” complained Cantrell.

As we stepped into the hall, we froze when the lights overhead switched on. After several tense moments passed, we realized it was simply motion controlled sensors that caused them to go on. The lights reflected off the walls and ceiling, which gave us a good view of our surroundings. The halls were painted in a way that made it seem like we were underneath a giant Persian rug. A kaleidoscope of colors formed into various moon and star shapes, bathing the walls and ceiling in their elegance. Golden columns, adorned with symbols, lined the right and left sides of the massive hallway. As I approached one of the columns, my jaw fell open when I got a closer look at one of the symbols.
An ankh
. I couldn't believe my eyes. There was more to the history of the Consortium than Calypso had told me and I found myself questioning the history of mankind. I passed my hand over it and admired the smoothness of the texture and its icy touch.

“Hey, you can sightsee later!” shouted Cantrell. He motioned me forward with the barrel of his rifle.

We moved through the halls slowly and cautiously. Ibune took the lead and held both of her crescent blades in front of her body in a defensive posture. Cantrell and Hiro swept the area behind the columns, ensuring no assassins hid in the shadows. Several smaller halls broke off near the end of the main corridor and at the end, stood a large metal door emblazoned with the image of a large feline with fire coming from its head.

“What in the world is that?” I asked, pointing at the door.

“The main chamber,” Ibune whispered. “Behind that door lies the throne of the High Prince.” She turned to me with an icy stare. “Within, lies the heart of the Consortium.”

“I don't like this,” remarked Hiro. “No guards? No defenses of any kind?”

Ibune stopped, tapped her blades together and furrowed her brow. She appeared deep in thought, perhaps pondering the implication of Hiro's words.
Where were all the defenses?
It was a stark contrast to the forces that met us outside these walls. Did Calypso underestimate us, believing we had no chance of entering the Akropolis, or was there something more ominous lying in wait for us?

“I don't like this either,” agreed Cantrell. “I don't spook easily, but I hate to admit…this is a bit concerning.”

For a long time, Ibune said nothing. She simply stared at the door, tapping her damned blades together. On the annoyance scale, the sound they made ranked somewhere between nails on a chalkboard and a screaming banshee. Eventually, she stopped tapping and approached the door cautiously.

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked an alarmed Cantrell

“Going inside, what does it look like I'm doing?” she snapped.

What is her deal?
She seemed a bit too eager and lacked caution. This whole thing had been a trap to start with. Forces waited for us upon our arrival, Zytran remained oddly quiet, and we had little trouble entering the main control center for the entire Consortium. My internal alarm system was going off like fireworks. I feared an army waited for us on the other side.

My fears proved unfounded when Ibune opened the door to an empty throne room. The room itself held no furnishings of any kind, with the exception of six bronze-inlaid stairs and a golden throne. On each side of the throne were golden statues of giant cats, similar to panthers, with jaws wide and paws outstretched. A long, rectangular pane of stained glass overlooked the rear of the throne. The light, which wafted through the window, created a rainbow of colors to fall upon the back of the throne. A single blood-red carpet led down the stairs, all the way to the door. The carpet had been adorned with the same symbols that marked the columns in the hall. Ibune whirled around and addressed Cantrell and Hiro.

“You two stand guard outside and make sure no one comes in behind us. Nathan and I will search in here.”

Cantrell nodded and stepped outside with Hiro. Ibune closed the door behind them.

“Why are you closing the door?” I asked. “I'd prefer it open to see if any enemies approached.”

“Extra precaution,” she explained. “If soldiers do come bursting into the hall, I would like to buy us a little time to forge an escape route, don't you agree?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I agreed, although I hated leaving Hiro and Cantrell exposed and vulnerable out there.

“It is good to see you again,” a voice called from the shadows.

I swept the room with my weapon. Ibune lifted her weapons defensively and her head swiveled back and forth as she scanned the room.

Calypso stepped from the shadows and approached the throne with a broad smile plastered to his face. “I knew you would come.”

I stepped forward with my finger lightly caressing the trigger. “It's over Calypso.”

As he stepped to the throne, the red color from the stained glass window fell upon his hair, making it appear as if blood streamed from the top of his skull in scarlet strands. The red tie he wore clashed with his dark-colored suit. His wrinkle free, mortician suit was creepy, to say the least.

“You looked clean and well-groomed, Calypso. Afraid to get your hands dirty in this conflict?” mocked Ibune.

He bellowed laughter and raised his hands in feigned surrender. “Now I stand, the wolf before the sheep…and they do not fear.” He sat upon the throne and ran his hands across the tops of the panther heads. “You are completely surrounded. My forces will soon overwhelm yours, your reinforcements will not be able to break through Caelum's air defenses, and I only have to deal with the two of you and the two you posted outside. I have no reason to get my hands dirty.”

I gripped my gun tighter. “No
reason
?” I roared. “This entire war is because of you. You
are
the reason.”

Calypso's smile faded and his expression darkened. “You are quite incorrect. Meta started this entire debacle. I am just cleaning up his mess.”

“You betrayed the Consortium!” I argued.

He shook his head. “No. The Consortium I knew had been betrayed long ago. Meta was destroying it from within. His use of politics created rifts between the various organizations contained within the Consortium, such as the Explorer's League, the Collegiate, the Financiers, the Engineering Conglomerate…
everyone
! He alienated our allies! Peace between the galaxies was deteriorating.”

“Peace?” I scoffed. “You started a war!”

Calypso ran his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes, you need to start a war in order to have peace.”

“You're insane,” I gasped.

He smiled. It was the smile of a predator, looking down upon his prey. “Why are you here, Nathan?”

“I'm here to stop you,” I explained. “Someone needs to be the good guy in this war.”

Calypso looked down and kicked at a corner of the carpet. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” I asked, puzzled.

He looked up and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped between his legs. His eyes darted between Ibune and me. “Are you so sure
you
are the good guy?”

I felt my anger rising, but I bit it back before I responded. “Yes, I am. You betrayed an organization you proclaim to be saving, you destroyed my planet, and you murdered innocent people in the process.”

He waved his hand through the air. “Now wait a minute. Meta attacked your planet, not I. The only people I am guilty of murdering attacked me first, I cannot be held responsible for things my people did behind my back. As I explained earlier, I did not betray the Consortium. They betrayed all of us.”

“He's right,” said Ibune. She glided over to the door and threw it open. Several Scarlet Moon soldiers entered, escorting Hiro and Cantrell inside. They were helmetless and their hands were on their head.

“Down on your knees,” one of the soldiers commanded. He was a burly, yellow skinned fellow with an enormous jaw. A single fang protruded from his bottom lip with a matching blank slate of a forehead. His sausage-like fingers were wrapped around the trigger of Cantrell's rifle with the barrel pressed against the back of his head. Reluctantly, they complied with the soldiers orders.

“What the hell is going on?” I approached Ibune, but was stopped by the tip of her blade.

“Come no further,” she commanded. “Drop your weapon.”

The tip was about an inch from my chest, but I could feel the heat radiating from it. I looked into the resigned eyes of Cantrell and tossed my weapon down in disgust.

“Why?” The single word had been laced with such frustration and confusion that it caused Ibune to raise her eyebrows. Calypso, who had been grinning like a kid in a candy store, stood while Ibune sat on the throne.