The Dreamer nodded and spoke into his microphone.
City of Oras
David
Lehmor had described the matrix room as the best-protected area of the city, but David had not seen a sign of that yet. According to the map, it should be right after the next turn. He hurried down the corridor and crashed into scores of clones. Blades whooshed. He rolled on the floor to avoid a bolt fired at him. It exploded in the middle of the large group behind him, sending them to crash on the walls.
Still rolling, David fired up his Sheimlek-dar and shot a volley towards the clones. His bursts hit one of them, sending him screaming on the ground. Instead of rushing to meet the attackers, the rest of the clones withdrew down the corridor. A number of Dreamers chased after them.
“Stop,” David cried out. The Dreamers ignored him and rushed towards the retreating men.
A portion of the wall on both sides of the corridor glimmered briefly, encasing the charging Dreamers in a shimmering red light. They stared at each other in confusion as the light brightened, bathing them in a crimson halo that increased in intensity. It burst into a red flash and David shielded his eyes, blinded.
Then, the light was gone. So were the Dreamers. In the place of the men and women, nothing but shifting piles of ashes remained.
“Form lines!” David shouted, and the Dreamers rushed to his side, their weapons springing to life.
The narrow corridor meant that three lines of Dreamers could cover its entire width. A group lay down, stretching their arms before them. A second row hurried to take its place behind them, kneeling down. They, too, extended their arms. A third row formed behind these, standing up. Another fifty or so Dreamers remained behind these, waiting to take the place of any fallen warriors.
Clones charged them, their faces masks of fury lit up by hungry blades. Their charging feet trampled the ashes of the dead Dreamers.
“Fire!” David shouted and thirty Sheimlek-dars fired simultaneously. Lethal bursts of energy exploded among the screaming creatures. Bits of scorched flesh filled the corridor. Smoke rose from charred bodies.
“Fire!” The second volley landed in the middle of the still charging mass of men. The attackers’ front row crashed against those behind them. To David’s amazement, the clones merely pushed the mutilated corpses aside and stormed down towards them.
“Fire!” Several bursts hit the walls, sending boulders and debris to dig into the clones’ flesh. And yet, still they came. They crashed into the shocked Dreamers like a wave crashes on the shore, pushing them aside, trampling them under their feet. Like a cork sliding from a bottle’s neck, the Dreamers withdrew. Suits screeched as red blades plunged into them. The screams of those trapped inside the bursting armour filled David’s ears. Everywhere he looked, red and blue blades clashed against each other. Sparks flew. Blades smashed into shields.
A voice sounded in his helmet, momentarily drowning out the screams and shouts. “Package delivered. Repeat, package delivered. ETA fifteen minutes. Get the hell out of there, people.”
His gaze jumped to his target, a shimmering part of the wall that he guessed was the hidden entrance to the matrix room. It lay a mere hundred yards away, but screaming clones and burned corpses blocked his way. So did a killing device they were powerless against. The entrance might as well be back on Earth.
“We’re at the matrix room, but we need help,” he shouted into his microphone. “We need help.”
City of Oras
Lehmor
“So, this is it?” Moirah asked.
Lehmor pushed his hand into the unassuming basin at the side of the wall. “Yes.”
His fingers fished around for the trigger that would reveal the entrance. Finding it, he jerked his finger and the wall shimmered away.
“Come,” he said.
They rushed into the narrow gap before it closed again, finding themselves in a familiar, poorly-lit, downwards corridor with knotted pillars on each side.
A shadow detached itself from the walls to face them. “I told you we’ll meet again.”
“Stripet!” Moirah cried out in surprise.
The Bear took a small bow. “At your service.” He fired up his rod.
Lehmor barely had time to fire up his Sheimlek before Stripet hammered him with his blade. The fire dissipated around Lehmor’s neck. It burned him. The metals slabs of the suit started shaking. A loud screech pierced his ears. He raised his Sheimlek, but Stripet grabbed his wrist and twisted it. The intense heat inside the suit dazed Lehmor.
“Enough!” Moirah barked and lunged at Stripet. She crashed on him, sending him to fly against the wall.
Freed from the rod’s fire, Lehmor crashed on the ground, gasping.
Stripet chuckled. “Kitten’s got nails.” He faced Moirah. She swirled around and attacked him, but he caught her arm with one hand and crushed her face with the hilt of his rod. The Sheimlek flew from her hand. She stumbled backwards. He lowered himself, spinning. His foot caught hers, sending her to crash on her back. He kicked her in the gut, hard. Her body banged against a gnarled pillar. He grabbed her head and slammed it against the hard stone again and again.
Her pained screams jolted Lehmor back. He fired his Sheimlek-dar at Stripet. The Bear twisted around, still holding Moirah, and the bolt exploded on her suit. Her screams stopped.
“Oops! Looks like you killed your wife,” Stripet said with a grin. He threw the listless body to the ground.
Lehmor picked up his Sheimlek and circled the man. He fought the urge to check on Moirah. The suit would have saved her. It had to. Stripet had already taken his father. He would not take his wife, too.
Stripet motioned him with his fingers to approach. “It’s time to meet your daddy.”
Lehmor ignored the taunt. Stripet wanted to upset him, unbalance him. Two could play that game. “You too. And the rest of your miserable tribe.”
Anger flashed in Stripet’s eyes as they circled each other. Lehmor positioned himself between his enemy and Moirah. He would not let the Bear touch her again. “You’re the last, aren’t you?” Lehmor said mockingly. “After today, nothing will remain of you. Not even your memory.” He raised three fingers to his mouth and blew, opening his palm. “Nothing.”
Stripet roared and lunged. Lehmor sidestepped him with ease. He spun around, thrusting his Sheimlek at the attacker. Stripet ducked and rolled away. The blade barely scratched his head.
Once again, they circled each other. Lehmor tried to position himself between Moirah and Stripet again. Every inch of Lehmor’s body longed to take her in his arms, check she was still breathing, even as Stripet was approaching him. She hasn’t moved. Why hasn’t she moved?
The Bear chuckled. “Is this whom you’re trying to save?” In one fluid motion, he kneeled down. He plunged the rod’s blade into Moirah’s still body. His eyes never left Lehmor’s as a loud screech filled the air. Every inch of the suit quivered and screamed, as if in pain. Lehmor clenched his fist around the Sheimlek. With a howl he swung the weapon and charged Stripet. The Bear lifted his arm. Sparks flew as Lehmor’s blade slid over his shield. Stripet shifted his body and hit Lehmor’s gut with the rod’s hilt. Lehmor stumbled back. With surprising speed, the Bear charged him. He brought his blade down in forceful strikes. The two blades crashed against each other, until Lehmor tripped and dropped to the ground. His Sheimlek flew from his hand.
Stripet kicked the weapon away. He raised his blade, the thirsty red catching Lehmor’s eyes.
A blue light flashed behind Stripet. The Bear staggered forward, a surprised look replacing the mad glint in his eyes. He frowned and swayed around. Smoke rose from a large burn mark between his shoulder blades. A second flash. He toppled over. Moirah stood behind him, her Sheimlek-dar alive on her wrist. She stood above the gasping man. Then she fired the weapon once more. The third blast caught Stripet in the face. His head exploded, spraying blood and bits of charred flesh everywhere.
For a moment, Lehmor did not move, his ey
es fixed on the dark-clad silhouette above his enemy’s corpse. His legs shook as he pushed himself up. Then he crushed the trembling woman in his arms.
“Thank you,” he whispered. He wished she would take off the helmet so he could kiss her.
She pulled him close to her, their bodies entwined. “We still have to get Pratin,” she reminded him after a minute.
He released her and nodded. “The clone room is at the end of the corridor. Can you fight?”
“Better than you,” she teased him.
Lehmor took one last look at Stripet’s mangled body. His eye caught on something on the Bear’s chest. He knelt to snap a silver chain from Stripet’s neck.
Moirah leaned on a pillar. “What is it?”
His eyes examined the object. “Looks like a key.” At the end of the chain hung a misty crystal, almost three inches long and half an inch in diameter. Carvings etched on its surface emitted a faint red glow. He shoved it into the thigh pocket holding the explosive device for the clone room.
Static crackled in their helmets. “Package delivered,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Repeat, package delivered. ETA fifteen minutes. Get the hell out of there, people.”
Lehmor pulled his arm around Moirah and helped steady her. “Let’s go.”
She pointed her thumb at the far end of the corridor. “What about Pratin?”
“The explosion will get him.”
“What if it doesn’t?” she protested. “We’re far below the surface. The clone room might be protected. We have to be sure.”
“You almost died,” he snapped. “You can’t fight.”
“We have to, or everything’s been in vain.” She turned to face him, catching his helmet in her palms. “We must end this.”
He knew she was right, but the image of her on the ground still gnawed at his guts. The memory killed him, not knowing whether she was dead or alive. “You’re hurt.”
“But I’m not alone,” she whispered. “We can do this. Together.”
“What did I miss?”
They spun around to see Azalia behind them. Chunks of her suit were missing, leaving the flesh underneath exposed. She limped towards them. A nasty wound on her leg oozed a yellowish liquid.
“What happened?” Moirah asked.
She waved away the question. “Nothing serious. But Pratin escaped.”
Lehmor pointed with his head. “He’s in the clone room.”
“May I?” Azalia touched the scarab on Lehmor’s chest and slipped a black membrane out. As soon as she placed it on her wound, it hissed and followed the contours of her flesh to seal her leg in a dark skin. “What are we waiting for, then?”
Static crackled in their helmets. “We’re at the matrix room, but we need help,” David’s voice said. “Repeat, we need help.”
The words sent a shiver to trickle like ice water down Lehmor’s back. He looked at the key in his hand, sudden realization in his eyes. This would unlock the matrix room. Without it, David’s mission was doomed. All Iotas would be lost forever.
He fished the key out of his pocket and turned to Moirah. “Take this to David.”
She nodded. “What do I do with it?”
“Just…” He had not thought of that. The keyhole would probably be hidden away, under another illusion. Only he could save the Iotas. But his injured wife would have to fight Pratin alone.
He could either save the Iotas or keep his wife safe.
The memory of her lying still on the ground filled his mind.
His heart raced as he shoved the key back into his pocket. “Forget it. Let’s stop Pratin.”
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded, her expression hidden under the helmet.
City of Oras
Moirah
She hated to admit it, but Lehmor’s decision to stay had soaked her eyelids with tears she had no way of wiping. She squeezed her eyes in an effort to rid them of the unwanted moisture.
Her chest was on fire, making her breathing difficult. She felt a prick on her arm. The pain abated. Azalia had said the suit will help us in many ways, she remembered. Administering medicine seemed to be one of them.
Moirah stretched her arms, enjoying the rejuvenated sensation in her limbs. Her breathing eased. “I’m ready.” Lehmor hesitated. Even without seeing his face, she could read his worry in his slumped shoulders. “I’ll be fine.” She squeezed his arm reassuringly.
Lehmor nodded and turned to Azalia. “How about you?”
“I’ve waited a hundred thousand years for this. A scratch won’t stop me.”
They hurried down the corridor, reaching a dead end. Moirah shot a questioning look at Lehmor, then remembered he could not see her face. “Now what?”
“Just a moment.” Lehmor pushed the crystal he had taken from Stripet’s body into the wall. A door shimmered into existence. No matter how many times she saw this, it caught Moirah’s breath. She watched her husband push red letters hovering before him with a mix of pride and apprehension for what lay on the other side of the door.
Lehmor punched a symbol and the letters turned green. The door slipped upwards to reveal an opening. They snuck into a vast cavernous hall. The view at first made no sense to Moirah. Her gaze danced around in an effort to comprehend.
Row after row of oval containers filled the hall, like an army of semi-transparent pods growing out of the ground walls. Like insect eggs. Each was large enough to hold a man. Her breath caught when something inside a sack moved. Each sack did hold a man.
“You!” A gnarled old man stepped from behind a sack to point an accusing finger at them.
This was Pratin? The man behind all their suffering? She had never had a chance to take a good look at him. Her forehead creased. This frail creature was Pratin? She was almost disappointed.
“You’re too late,” Pratin continued. “My children are ready. You can’t stop them.”
Azalia stepped forward. “Those monsters will never leave this room.”
“Monsters?” An expression of infinite bitterness flashed on Pratin’s face. “You dare speak of monsters? You, who destroyed my whole world? Murdered my family?” He moved closer to Azalia. “You have no right to be here. We were not your enemy. You invaded us. Slaughtered billions. An entire world died when you terraformed our planet. And for what? For your stupid games.” He cocked his head to examine her, contempt shining in his eyes. “If we’re monsters, it’s because you turned us into them.”
“T minus ten.” A voice crackled in Moirah’s helmet. Damn!
A pod hissed. The membrane at its front slit open. A hand pushed out, followed by a leg.
Pratin took a step back. “Ah, here they come now.”
Another pod hissed, then another. And another. The air around them filled with the ripping of torn membranes. Bodies slithered out of them, covered in slime. Pratin cackled.
“What have you done?” Azalia whispered.
Pratin spun around and scarpered behind an open pod. “The question is, what will I do?” he shouted as he disappeared into the cavern.
Hundreds of clones opened their pale, hungry eyes and stared at them. Moirah took an involuntary step back.
Lehmor placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jolt. “We must leave.”
“We can’t leave,” Moirah shot back at him. “We must stop him!” Her gaze jumped to the holster on his leg, now empty of its deadly cargo.
“We must leave,” he repeated and pulled her back through the door. Azalia limped behind them, never turning her back to the throng of men stumbling towards them.
The three of them burst through the door. Lehmor stayed behind, to pull the crystal out of the indentation. What’s keeping him? “Come on,” Moirah yelled.
The door shut just as the first clone was about to follow them. “I’ve locked them in,” Lehmor said and barrelled down the corridor. “This will buy us some time.”
Fists banged on the door, followed by momentary silence. The three of them had just reached the end o
f the corridor when a gust of air sucked them backwards. They stumbled. Lava-hot air washed over them, pushing them forward. They jumped out of the corridor and rolled on the ground.
A deafening explosion rocked the ground. Moirah covered her head with her hands. Debris and shrapnel flew around them. Dust and gravel covered their bodies. A smouldering hand splatted next to Moirah’s face. She pushed it away in disgust.
Her ears rang so loudly that she could not understand the voice in her helmet. T minus five, she guessed.
She stole a look behind them. The mouth of the cave was spitting flames. She could not see inside for the thick smoke and dust, but the heat of a furnace emanated from the corridor. Its end collapsed with a loud crashing sound, sending tremors on the ground. The screaming figure of an old man emerged through the rubble, illuminated by the fire that ate away his body. After a few unsteady steps, he dropped to the ground. The screaming stopped. Relief washed over Moirah.
A hand pulled her up. Lehmor! Azalia was hanging on his other side. In the dust-filled corridor, they looked like ghosts, their silhouettes almost unrecognizable. He tugged at her arm and motioned towards Azalia. Moirah put the injured woman between them. They started running as fast as they could towards David. Every now and then she saw silhouettes and movement out of the corner of her eye, but no one stopped them.
A few endless minutes later, they crashed on David. A handful of Dreamers stood over dozens of bodies, both suited and tattooed.
Moirah’s jaw dropped. “What the hell happened here?”
“We were expected,” David said. “We won, but there’s a trap.” He pointed at the wall next to a shimmering part of the corridor.
“T minus one,” a voice crackled.
“I see it,” Lehmor shouted. David took his place at Azalia’s side. Lehmor bolted towards the wall. He pushed Stripet’s crystal key into the shimmer.
Moirah stared at him in disbelief. How does he know where the keyhole is?
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 85