"What did you do to me?" I accused him.
Theron lifted his hands in surrender. "I didn't do anything."
My irises were now the same color as his. "Maybe it's because of the atmosphere," I reasoned.
"Or maybe it's because your father was from this world," Theron stated, more like an answer than a question.
I stared into the mirror. No way was I going to be able to wrap my head around this one. I could just imagine my mother blurting out, 'Oh, Freya, by the way, your father was from another universe.' Perfect.
I stumbled to the nearest tree and sat down hard against the cool trunk. "This is making more sense all the time while making absolutely no sense at all," I mused.
Theron sat down directly in front of me. We both sat cross-legged with our knees touching. "You're still who you are and who you've always been, right here." He placed his hand gently over my heart. I covered his hand with my own and took a deep breath. "You're still the incredible woman I love. You just have more of your puzzle solved."
There was that love word again, and I realized I hadn't said it back to him yet. But another thought crossed my mind. "If my father is that Darth Vader—Morag guy—I am going to… "
Theron laughed. "Doubt that. Not the way you described your mother's love for your father."
I breathed a sigh of relief then asked, "Still violet?"
He laughed lightly. "Still violet and stunning." He held my face in his strong hands and kissed me reassuringly.
"For a long time I've associated amethyst eyes with evil. Then you… now this," I said, motioning with my hands.
"It'll take time to get used to," he said calmly.
I nodded. "We should be getting back in. We have a lot to plan out."
I handed the mirror back to him, and he put it in the pack. He pulled out some water and had me drink. Then he helped me to my feet, and we made our way back through the natural tunnels into our cave.
"That was a lot of activity for you. I want you to lay down and rest—I'll build a fire and warm dinner," Theron said.
I lay on the blankets, folded my hands behind my head and stared up at the ceiling as I tried to change the direction of my thoughts. "You know, my mom only kept me in hiding. She never taught me how to confront my enemies. This is a new concept for me."
"I've been thinking about that," Theron began. "I should go back to the facility—alone—locate your mother and get her back here." He stared at me. I guess my expression said it all. "Look, you've been through too much already."
"She's my mother."
"And you're no good to her or me—or yourself—dead. This is a military installation with trained soldiers, Freya!"
"You are not leaving me out of this! This is my fight!"
"You're still recovering!"
"I'm fine. I feel better than ever."
"You're not trained!"
"Then you better get to work, Theron, 'cause there is no way I am letting you do this without help! No way!"
"If you feel so fine you can finish dinner. I'm going for water," he said and stormed off down a tunnel with our bottles. He was mad. I had never seen him like that.
He might have been right, but so was I. I had to do this. And I wasn't defenseless—not if we had a solid plan. I stirred the pot roast with vegetables.
He still hadn't come back after a half hour. I couldn't wait any longer and I ate my share of the food alone.
He finally came back about two hours later. He was moody. He set the water containers down and lay down on his side of the blankets without eating, facing away from me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"I'm scared. No, scratch that—I'm terrified. I don't want to lose you again."
"I have to do this. You know that," I said gently.
"Yeah, I know. I never really thought you'd let the idea fly, but I had to try."
"Theron, look at me, please."
He rolled over onto his side and stared up at me. I swallowed my own fright.
"I love you," I said.
"You—love me?"
I smiled. "Oh yeah," I said with conviction.
"Say it again."
I laughed a little. "I love you."
"I didn't hear you… what did you say?" He closed his eyes.
I smiled brightly. "I said—I love you, Theron."
He sat up, suddenly serious again, and drew me into his arms. He held me tightly. "No one has ever said that to me before," he breathed into my ear.
I winced. I had never thought about that. Of course. Who would have ever said it to him? I squeezed him tighter. "Well, hang around—I'll say it more often."
He pulled me back and his smile was beautiful. "All right, let's do this." He stood up and went over to a bulging tarp on the far side of the room. "I raided the weapons compound."
"Cool," I said, but then wondered, "Couldn't you beseech the ambassadors from the other planets for help?"
"No. They leave Cathal to deal with its own problems. We are completely on our own."
"What's your strategy?"
"If we can make it into the facility and if we can find your mother, we can get ourselves to the transfiguration lab and take the Bifrost back to Earth," he said.
"I like it. How do we pull it off?"
"With these." His hand swept over the pile of military gear. "And some Cathal 101."
I walked over and looked at the small arsenal he had gathered. "All right Commander, I'm ready."
"First thing we need to do is let you get a good look at the facility. Let's sit by the fire," he said as he led me there. "I'll explain everything as we go."
Theron closed his eyes for a moment as if he were thinking hard then opened them and swept his arm in a high arc across the front of our bodies. In its wake were three-dimensional, holographic images—lighted data and pictures like you would see on a computer screen, but floating in mid-air like in some futuristic high tech movie.
"How did you do that?" I said, staring into the space before us. Digital words, pages, pictures and images flashed across our visage.
"It's not that big of a deal, really—Novians have just… "—he grappled for the right word—"progressed into having the ability to merge with technology. We can manipulate the air waves, to a certain extent, to access the informational sources transmitting throughout the atmosphere. We can work with what's floating around out there—sound waves, radio frequencies, broadcasts, satellites—things like that."
"That is so cool!" I marveled.
He thought about it, "It's a lot like turning on a radio or computer. This is a visual of our universe." The screen before us lit into a swirling mass of colorful planetary spheres, half shadowed and half illuminated as they faced their suns. Each was bathed in pure light—shimmering gold and swimming in liquid violet. Glowing stars dotted the landscape.
I smiled softly at him. Our eyes met and I felt a buzz of electric current pass between us. The images flickered a bit as he leaned in a little toward me. "We need to keep on task," he reminded me.
"This is Cathal in live-action. Brace yourself." He waved his hand and the picture before me suddenly looked like a horrible BBC news broadcast of war-torn countries, where the buildings were reduced to death traps and rubble. Most streets were void of people, while others brewed with angry groups shooting at one another with automatic weapons. There were soldiers of all ages; from very little seven-year-olds to old men and women. Girls and boys. Any one of them could have been Piper. I didn't want to believe it was real and actually happening. How easy it would have been to dupe myself into pretending it was nothing but a staged movie. Hand grenades were thrown into the streets. A mob doused a vehicle in chemicals, lit it and rolled the flaming missile into an enemy camp while small children and toddlers crouched behind concrete barriers. I began watching through squinted eyes. Families hid in terror, tucked away in decrepit abandoned buildings, and orphans huddled alone in ruins that passed for a neighborhood. They wore tattered rags and scaveng
ed through the trash to find something to eat.
"The other side of the city," Theron said, interrupting the nightmare. A small metropolis held gleaming silver, white and gold skyscrapers, reaching into the purple sky. Ornate mansions made from what looked like the smooth petrified wood were marbled in luxurious hues, glistening in the sunlight. Smartly dressed people in business suits and designer clothes scurried about the busy city streets. It could have been any American city. Families were walking together; a son and father were holding hands. It was very sobering. How was it possible that such misery could cohabit with such wealth?
"This is the facility," Theron said. With another gesture, smooth black and silver buildings structured in Art Deco styles and shaped into hard angled lines sat on the horizon in a group. Hard and unwelcoming, the buildings themselves looked ominous and dangerous. Their windows were constructed of one way glass, allowing no one to see in.
I laid my hand on Theron's shoulder. "I'm sorry," I said.
"Why are you sorry?" he asked.
"When they sent you to Earth you could have just blended in—disappeared and lived your own life. Instead, you chose to find me and stay with me. You let them bring you back here so you could protect me again. I'm so sorry you had to come back to this place because of me."
He gazed at me with intensity. "I told you that night in New Orleans—I decide the campaigns I commit myself to. You are my life now, Freya. I would die for you. Remember that"—he kissed my forehead—"because we have a hard job ahead of us."
He turned back to the hovering, glowing images. "This is called Sparta. Morag had it erected about one hundred years ago, to mirror the ancient Grecian city-state that trained all boys into soldiers or killed them." One building took the forefront. Rectangular steel columns were embedded into the front side of a massive black structure. It was the biggest building in the compound. A huge black tower came from the rear center and shot up taller than any other building in the city. Theron moved his hand and the building split into three views: one was an architectural diagram, the next looked as if the building had been peeled back on hinges, and the last was a three-dimensional replica of each of the building's nine sprawling levels. Theron explained each as I watched the pictures before me rotate and shift with a simple touch of his fingertip. "Sparta is an immense training and weapons facility and laboratory."
A vicious arsenal that held every weapon imaginable. It had a striking familiarity.
Before I could say anything, he continued. "Soldiers train in weapons, hand-to-hand and martial arts, depending on age. Others work on data analysis."
I could see them all; working at their various crafts in different parts of the building. I could see the pods Theron had described as his barracks. They were isolated and undecorated. Teenagers battled with frightening medieval weapons: battle axes, swords, crossbows, mace and chains.
"They're really killing each other!" I almost shouted, as a strong violent-looking boy about fifteen years old bested a younger boy, no older than twelve.
"Yeah. They spar regularly. The weakest are plucked out and used for actual death desensitization for those who are stronger."
My mind stammered. I couldn't have heard him correctly. But before I could really process that, I saw other rooms, where boys were being tortured in various ways. "What are they doing that for?"
"Those are endurance chambers. Or they're being punished," he said matter-of-factly.
There was no camaraderie, no friendly games or sports, no emotional or physical contact except for combat. Their faces were void of all emotion—except hate.
"I believe your mom is being held in this building," Theron said.
But I wondered, How will we ever survive in there?
Chapter 27 Strategy
"Where in that death maze do you think my mother would be?" I asked.
"I have my suspicions." He fluttered his fingers. "This is the lowest level where the laboratory is housed. I was only there during my Earth and language lessons with my tutor and when I was transported to your world."
Oddly enough, the images in front of us looked like boxy, sterile rooms on a blue print. There were no people, no equipment or furniture, only empty steel rooms and lines for walls. "Why can't we see inside?"
"Morag must have put it in a shroud. Basically it's a technological blank space. It's pretty tough to accomplish. He is definitely hiding something—or someone. Either way he doesn't want anyone to see what's going on down there. That more than confirms my suspicion."
"That's where you think Morag is holding my mother," I stated rather than questioned.
"If he has her, this would be the place to hide her." Theron stood up abruptly and walked through the images. They flickered for a moment then evaporated. "In the next two weeks we'll train with this equipment here in Cathal's atmosphere and gravity—because it's very different from Earth's. I also have a theory about your feeling so much better so fast."
"What's that?" I quipped.
"You're half Novian. We heal much quicker than humans," he explained.
Wow! That was one way to put that right out in the open—'You're half Novian.' I had been too stunned to think any farther than the color of my eyes.
"You heal quickly?" I asked.
"Remember when I got shot on Earth and was still able to run, and the next day I wasn't even limping or slow?"
"I guess I was sort of self-occupied. Sorry."
"Don't be, I was hoping you wouldn't notice. Anyway, Novians have some extra abilities that humans don't. I'll explain it as we go." He said. "We'll be safe here—the caverns create an area the drones can't get into. When we're ready we'll advance into the city. There are a lot of condemned and vacant buildings to hide in."
"How far are we from the city and Sparta?" I asked.
"About one hundred miles."
"What? You carried me for one hundred miles?" I blurted.
"You're not that heavy. And I have enhanced strength." Theron flexed his bicep.
I laughed. "Another Novian trait?"
He laughed, picked me up and hoisted me over his head as if I were a little kid. My legs dangled beneath me. Flirt!
"A little of that. But I'm even stronger than your average Novian." He brought me down slowly and kissed me.
I could so get used to that! I thought.
"Let's go through what we've got," he said as he crossed back to the stuff under the tarp. He pulled out a clear bag with white, folded clothes. "These are disguises. The food servants have high clearance access to all of the facility levels—including the lab. I created scannable cards while you were sleeping. Now, Novia had no weapons until rather recently. Two thousand years ago, when the planets signed the peace treaty, all the weapons that had ever been designed were destroyed. Cathal was later able to create primitive weaponry—bows and arrows, swords and knives and the like. The newest weapons have all been collected from Earth."
"From Earth?" I gasped. Those automatic guns had looked familiar. "The Novians are fighting with Earth's weapons? How?"
"Not sure. But I am sure it has something to do with Morag and his intentions," he said. "Now, these… " he continued as he laid out a metallic silver set of clothing—they seemed very formfitting like they'd hug the wearer's skin and were long-sleeved and came to the ankle—"are protective armor. They're the best of the best and only the officers get to wear them. They will protect you from certain explosions, from bullet rounds and from most knife, arrow and sword attacks. You can be assured that Morag wears these. If you ever have a chance to go at him, strike at the head or use a fast-acting poison to the neck, hands or feet."
"Yes, because I always carry around fast-acting poisons," I quipped sarcastically as I ran my hands over the flexible armor.
"Actually," he began, "you will be. We each get four cartridges and each cartridge holds ten bolts. The bolts contain a toxic tip that will render your opponent motionless in thirty seconds." He set out eight rectangular pieces on the cave fl
oor so I could examine them. "The toxin slows your enemy's bodily systems down for two hours into an almost comatose state, but they won't die from it. And this"—he lugged out a dark burgundy rifle-looking thing—"is a Chinook Crossbow."
"Chinook, like the Native American word for wind?" I asked.
"That's right. It's camo-burgundy to match our trees and branches and, although it looks like metal, it's made of a special plastic. It's extremely lightweight and easy to use. You just load the cartridge, or bolt clip, in like this." He shoved the rectangle into the center chamber. "You try it."
He handed me both a Chinook and the bolt clip. It was easy. My clip slipped right into the socket.
"They're also equipped with a computerized target accuracy device—which means if your aim is off, the Chinook will right the shot for you."
"Okay."
"Fighting blades." He laid out two dozen knives with four-inch blades. "These can be used in hand-to-hand combat or for throwing. And remember it won't penetrate the vitals if your enemy is wearing this armor. If you must… kill… you can accomplish that most efficiently by slicing one of the major arteries. Our bodies are constructed very much like humans, so go for under the arm or inside the thigh."
Theron saw my face. "Freya, I know it's better to do the least amount of damage that you can, but these aren't your regular soldiers. They can't be reasoned with, and they are much too afraid of the consequences if they disobey orders.
I frowned but nodded.
He moved on. "Stun-grenades." He laid twelve out over the floor. "They emit a blast of flashing light that interrupts the brain's neurons through the ocular pathway. Pull the key, toss it, close your eyes fast and count slowly to ten. Open your eyes, and you'll be able to move while your enemy will be wrapped in paralysis for a full hour.
"Why aren't we just using guns?" I asked.
"We can't use guns in the lower level. The walls are too reactive. If you discharged a gun the bullet would only ricochet violently—until it found something to sink itself into. But you couldn't guarantee that wouldn't be you."
"Makes sense."
"In addition to the crossbow bolts we have taser slugs for distance."
Hunted (Dark Secrets Book 1) Page 26