by Craig Gaydas
Calypso ran the back of his hand across his forehead. “I'm sorry you feel that way, Nathan. I was hoping—,”
He never had a chance to finish the sentence. I threw the grenade. Wraith warned me to look away when tossing grenades such as these. He said the bright light which explodes from the weapon causes a majority of the stun effect. Even though I heeded his advice, the intensity of the explosive light surprised me and I fell backward, crashing my head on the corner of the bed. I expected the explosion would bring the attention of my guard outside, but the bomb was strangely quiet. It detonated with a hiss rather than a bang. I listened intently for what seemed like an eternity for stomps of approaching guards, but no one came. Calypso's unconscious body lay crumpled across the doorway. I stepped carefully around him and grabbed another grenade. This one is payback for the moldy bread and sewer water, I thought as I looked for the guard.
I pulled the door open slowly because I couldn't take the chance that a squeaky hinge would alert someone. My fears proved unfounded when the door opened, revealing an empty hallway. I was momentarily stunned at my unusual timing of good luck. I slid along the wall like a shadow clutching the grenade, ready to toss it at a moment's notice. A sign ahead marked the way toward the docking bay. I hustled around the corner when I bumped into Sam. His look of surprise was brief before he grabbed his sidearm and pointed it at my face. My fingers held the grenade in an iron grip as we stared at each other like some sort of Wild West standoff.
“What the hell are you doing, Nathan?” Sam's face was flushed and a thin veil of sweat formed above his brow.
“I'm getting the hell out of here, Sam,” I muttered. “Come with me.”
Sam lowered the weapon. “I can't do that.”
“These are bad people, Sam,” I pleaded. “You need to help me get back to my friends.”
Sam frowned. “Your new friends are not who you think they are, Nathan. You need to return to your room.”
His words weighed heavily on my heart. At that point I knew Sam could not be swayed. He was always bullheaded but this was an unnatural stubbornness that unnerved me. I had no choice, if I wanted to escape, it would have to be through my old friend.
“I can't do that.” I drew my hand back, prepared to toss the grenade. Before I could throw it I felt something slam into the back of my head. My face smashed into the floor and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. The grenade rolled uselessly toward Sam's feet. Someone grabbed my arm roughly and I blacked out.
I dreamt of a great stone building towering over me. I couldn't make it out completely because the sun rose behind it, blinding me in its glare. The shadow of the building engulfed me in its dark embrace. I shivered, despite the shroud of sweat on my face. A great forest surrounded me but seemed to close in, forcing me toward the building. The sun's glare fell behind the building as I made my way closer. Several stone steps ascended toward a large oak door. Two twenty-foot granite columns flanked the entrance. Above the door a single word was etched into the stone—Archivist. As I climbed the steps I was jolted by an earthquake. I grabbed the stair above me to steady myself and prevent a tumble off the stairs. I surveyed the area and noted that everything was calm. Not even the leaves stirred. I shook it off and climbed the remaining stairs. The tips of my fingers brushed the bronze door handle but before I could pull the door open another explosion rocked the world around me. Wait a minute, earthquakes didn't explode.
I was yanked from the dream by another explosion which rocked the ship, sending me crashing to the floor. The lights in the room flickered momentarily before going out. Several smaller lights switched on and I found myself bathed in the sapphire light of the emergency lights. Alarms began blaring.
Reeeeee! Reeeeee! The alarm sounded like a robotic cicada.
I hoisted myself up on one knee before a warm wetness trickled down my forehead. Alarmed, I rubbed my palm across my face and held it in front of my face. Sweat, not blood, thank God. I certainly didn't need to be injured and locked in a room on a hostile ship while it blew up around me. I forced myself to stand up. The door was also bathed in the eerie blue light.
Reeeeee! Reeeeee! I thought my eardrums were ready to burst. The alarm weaved its way through the base of my skull and I had a feeling if I didn't escape the room I would soon descend into madness. I pressed my face to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever caused the explosion. A planet stood in the distance and I recognized it almost immediately—Xajax. We were close to reaching the Lumagom base. The source of the disturbance was not visible through the window, and I was afraid if I pressed my face against the glass any harder I would have went right through.
Several shouts followed by gunfire brought my attention from the window to the door. I looked around frantically, hoping to secure some sort of item that would serve as an adequate weapon. Outside of the metal tray with the yellowing piece of bread, there was nothing in sight. Loud thumps came from outside the door followed by another gunshot. I swept the crusty bread off the tray and wielded it like a samurai sword. Looking back I'm sure I looked quite absurd as I stood close to the door, ready to slam the tray down on the first person to walk through the door. Death by platter.
A muffled thump outside the door was the final sound before the ship slipped into complete silence. I stepped toward the door, readying the tray for a fatal blow. The blood rushing through my ears was the only sound. My heart pounded like a drum and I took another step closer to the door. Craning my neck toward the door I listened to the faint breathing coming from the other side. The hairs on my arms stood at attention and I gripped the tray tighter. Who was on the other side other side of the door? Was it even a “who”? Who knew what unspeakable creatures lay within the blackness of space, ready to pounce on unsuspecting vessels? My mind flew astray and I began to envision a cosmic kraken enveloping our ship with space tentacles.
A voice called out from the other side. It certainly didn't sound like a hideous creature from the bowels of the universe. It was a male voice, deep and commanding. “I can hear you breathing.”
I stepped back. “Oh yeah? I can hear you breathing too!” As soon as the words left my mouth I realized how pointless they were.
“Identify yourself,” he commanded.
I loosened my grip on the tray. “I am the commander of the Consortium Defense Fleet! Also, I am heavily armed so I wouldn't come in here!” I had no idea why I tried to bluff the person outside. The stupidity just flew from my mouth.
After a brief hesitation, the voice cleared his throat. “Well, that is strange,” he snickered. “You certainly don't sound like Embeth.”
Not knowing whether the voice on the other side was a friend or foe was unsettling but I felt helpless at that particular moment. Trapped inside a room armed with nothing more than a serving tray didn't make me comfortable with my odds. I decided to cease the pointless bluffing.
“My name is Nathan Chambers.” I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I am the Cartographer.”
“Ah, the Cartographer,” the voice bellowed. “That's much better. For a second I was concerned that I had invaded the wrong ship.”
The door swung open and the owner of the voice stepped through. Once I saw him, I dropped the tray. The uselessness of the thin metal pan was never more apparent than at that moment. The man had to duck to enter the room which put him at a shade under seven feet tall. I cowered under his gaze, despite his lack of eyes. The lower half of his face seemed almost human with two fleshy lips parted slightly to reveal a set of sparkling white teeth. That was where his humanity ended. Above the lips, starting where the nose should have been, was an elaborate, violet helmet embedded with several lenses resembling that of a camera. I counted five, but they appeared to form a ring around his helmet. They were of several shapes and sizes with the largest approximately four inches in diameter and the smallest no more than an inch. He wore a suit of violet armor comprised of similar material as the helmet. Angular shoulder pads were concealed
underneath an ebony cloak which contoured the muscular stature of his body. He clutched two obscenely oversized hand guns—one in each hand. When his gaze fell upon me two of the larger camera lenses rotated counterclockwise and were replaced by two of the smaller ones. I could see them zooming in on me as he studied me.
“You are much younger than expected,” he muttered and holstered his weapons. He inspected each corner of the room as if an assassin hid within every shadow before returning to the doorway.
When I looked past him into the hall I saw my bread and water servant sprawled in a pool of his own blood. As his lifeless eyes studied me a pang of sorrow filled my heart. Not for him, of course. I would never miss his sour look nor his crappy bread, but for Sam who was most likely among the casualties aboard the ship.
“Who are you?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the corpse.
The stranger was busy rummaging through the corner cabinet, which I found out during my earlier exploration of the room contained nothing more than a blanket and dust. He turned when I asked the question and studied me through his helmet of eyes. “I am sorry I seemed to have forgotten my manners in all the commotion. I am Vayne.” He bowed low in mock greeting. “Now that we have dispatched with the pleasantries I can tell you I have been dispatched to rescue you.”
“Dispatched?” I asked. “By who?”
He slammed the cabinet door and waved his hand. “Unfortunately we are short on time so I will have to explain later. Several people aboard this vessel escaped before we completed the boarding process so it will not be long before reinforcements arrive.”
“There is nothing in those cabinets,” I stated as he sorted through another one on the far side of the room. I secretly hoped Sam was one of the escapees although I decided to keep those feelings to myself since I wasn't completely convinced Vayne was one of the good guys. He grunted, slammed the cabinet door and looked at me as if he read my mind.
“Don't worry, you will be safe with me.” He waved me through the door. “We better go.”
I stepped around Turtle's corpse with a grimace. Vayne was behind me in an instant and pressed his hand gently into my shoulder, guiding me along the hall. He moved swiftly and silently, blending in the shadows like a ninja. As we stumbled through the hallway navigating our way around the Lumagom corpses I caught glimpses of the battle through the blue haze provided by the emergency lights. Blackened holes dotted the walls accentuated by occasional smears of gore. I had to duck underneath a light fixture that had been blown away from the wall and hung halfway across the entrance to the main corridor. A neon sign, flickering with a threat to go out at any moment sat mounted on the wall. Evacuation Shuttles, it read. I turned to make my way down the hall but Vayne stopped me.
“Not that way,” he said, turning me toward the bridge instead.
“But aren't we trying to get out of here?” I asked.
“All of the shuttles are gone,” he grumbled. “So unless you have wings and plan to fly out of here you will find that path a dead end.”
I looked down the corridor I noticed that most of the emergency lights had died. It seemed a large chunk of the fighting had taken place in that area and a few wayward shots struck them instead of their intended target. Apprehension took over and I found myself wondering if Vayne was leading me into a trap. When I glanced at him he stared straight ahead through those emotionless lenses. As if in response, they rotated and two smaller lenses revolved from the rear of his helmet to the front. They were tinted with a green color and I had a feeling they were some sort of night vision devices.
“Follow me, Nathan. I will lead us through the dark.” He pointed his weapons forward and made his way along the hall. I hung onto the back of his cloak like a child being led by his mother.
We made our way around the corner and darkness gave way to a faint light radiating from the control room. A shadow exited the room and crept toward us. Vayne trained his weapons on the object while the faded green light of his lens reflected off them. A brief moment of tense silence passed between us while he studied the unknown person or thing that approached us. Vayne surprised me by letting out a hearty sigh of relief when the shadow spoke.
“The control room is clear, sir. We have taken control of the ship.”
The mechanical voice was familiar but my mind had a hard time processing the owner. He couldn't possibly be aboard because he was light years away aboard the Astral Spirit. When I stepped in front of Vayne a beam of light escaped from the shadow and illuminated the hall, revealing his identity.
“Gard!” I cried in disbelief.
He cocked his head and studied me. “It is good to see you again, Nathan. I hope to have time to celebrate our reunion at a later time. We must depart quickly.”
Before I could offer any sort of protest, Vayne led me to the bridge. A hooded figure hunched frantically over the controls, twisting knobs and pulling levers in an effort to gain control of the vessel. I looked down at a battered corpse on the floor beside him. The body was positioned on its stomach but the head was twisted completely around in order for the victim to stare lifelessly at the ceiling. It was Natronix, the former Explorer's League captain turned traitor. I felt no remorse for his death, it was no more than he deserved. Vayne slipped past the corpse and positioned himself beside the shrouded figure. My interests turned to the view screen which showed an image of a vessel attached to the side of ours. Immediately I understood how the rescuers managed to gain control of the ship. I couldn't help but admire the design of their ship. It's long, gray hull was similar to a submarine but came equipped with triple tail fins like a jet plane. Two oversized thruster engines flanked the body while the front of the craft formed a “T” shape which gave the vessel an overall appearance similar to a hammerhead shark. Predators in space, I chuckled silently.
“What is our status?” Vayne barked.
The hooded figure slammed his hands on the control panel in frustration. “Our status is exactly what you see. Your blatant disregard for our surroundings during your berserker fueled rage pretty much killed this ship.”
Vayne frowned. “My mission was to rescue him.” He flicked his thumb toward me. “Not the ship.”
An audible sigh of frustration escaped the mysterious stranger and he pulled back his hood to reveal a pale, hairless head. When he turned around his displeasure was noticeable, but when I saw his face I found it hard not to crack a smile.
“Wraith!”
His frustration ebbed and a smile played at the corner of his lips. “I am glad to see you safe, Nathan. We have much to discuss.”
Before I could ask him to clarify he motioned me to follow him. Vayne led us back through the darkened halls toward the breach made by his ship. Where there was once a wall near the engine room, there was nothing more than a cavernous hole sealed by some sort of flexible connector wall, not unlike a jet bridge. We hustled through the walkway until we came upon the bridge of Vayne's ship.
Vayne took off toward the bridge. “Hang on, we are getting out of here.”
“Wait, where are you going?” I asked.
“We have a long trip ahead of us. I'm sure Wraith can catch you up to speed.”
When I looked at Wraith a sorrowful look came over him. My worst fears bubbled to the surface. My friends were dead. Something bad had happened on Earth and Corvus was responsible for it. We were all that were left of the Consortium. All of those negative feelings soared through my brain and I was helpless to control them.
“Let's head to the Observation Lounge and I will explain,” Wraith offered solemnly.
Gard studied me with his emotionless eyes before rolling himself to the corner of the bridge. It seemed apparent he did not want to be a part of our discussion. I glanced at him one last time before following Wraith.
The inside of Vayne's ship was nicer than any other vessel I had been aboard. It was obscenely luxurious. The halls were covered in a dark colored wood, similar to cherry, and adorned with shelves filled with trop
hies and pictures of Vayne posing with several different people. Wraith moved swiftly toward our destination so I only managed to catch a glimpse of some of the images. The one that caused me to pause was one of Vayne shaking hands with Bree N'Dadi, the leader of the Erudites. All of the photos were concealed behind glass cases so I couldn't touch them but I pressed my face against the glass in order to get as close as possible. Both Bree and Vayne were smiling while surrounded by several representatives from different planets. They were all clapping and cheering.
“Hey, come on,” Wraith barked.
I turned back to the picture and it was Vayne with his arm around someone else. “What the hell?” I muttered.
A hand fell on my shoulder and I flinched. “Those are Memory Frames.” Wraith looked at me and smiled. “They are rare and very expensive. The item absorbs a person's memories, periodically cycles through them and puts them on display. In my opinion only narcissists, braggarts and bandits put them on display.”
Wraith moved on and I followed. “And under what category does Vayne fall under?”
Wraith ignored my question and instead led me through a set of double glass doors that opened into a room similar to a boardroom. A hardwood desk was surrounded by nine black leather-bound chairs. The entire room was surrounded by outer space. Only a clear window separated the occupants of the room from the great beyond.
Wraith walked to the window and stared at X-1, the closest moon to Xajax. It was barren and devoid of life, similar to Earth's moon. He lowered his head and without turning around said, “You may want to sit down.”
I slumped into the nearest seat and waited for him to tell me the bad news—they were all dead. That had to be the news, what else could it possibly be? When he turned to face his cheeks were moist. Whether it was from sweat or tears I could not tell. He cleared his throat and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He started and stopped several times. Words seemed to escape him. The news seemed to be worse than I could imagine.