Timeless (The Cartographer Book 3)

by Craig Gaydas

  “You can't be serious.” I rolled my eyes, thinking he was messing with me.

  “Oh trust me, I'm serious.” His demeanor made me think twice about my doubt. “Each string on the instrument represents a certain level of sound energy. The thickest string is the heaviest. You better not be near any shaky foundations.” He chuckled dryly.

  Without saying another word he led us to where the rusted truck had been sitting earlier. It was now gone and in its place was a dull gray box truck.

  “What the hell?” I exclaimed.

  Bofor chuckled. “You don't think shrouds were only made for hiding strangers who waddled into my tavern by accident, do you?”

  I understood his point. The Order taxed the people into submission. Can't get taxed on what the Order doesn't know you have. I found myself wondering what other things Bofor had been hiding under shrouds, but I didn't bother to ask because there was a more important mission at hand.

  “Get in the back,” Bofor said. “There is only one guard station on the way. Since I pass by that way occasionally, there shouldn't be a problem getting past but not with you two in the front seat.”

  Vigil eyed the rear of the truck sourly. “I guess we will do what is necessary. Just make sure you uphold your end of the bargain.”

  Bofor narrowed his eyes. “My end of the bargain? What bargain would that be sir? I agreed to drive you to the terminal and that deal remains in place. I ain't your bodyguard, so your safety is not my responsibility.”

  “Don't worry, we will handle ourselves,” Vigil growled.

  “You have done a bang up job so far,” Bofor scoffed. We hopped in the back of the truck and he pointed toward a switch located at the far end of the vehicle. “It will be dark in here. Flip that if you want some light.” He slammed the doors shut, leaving us in complete blackness.

  The truck started to move and I fumbled my way toward the front of the truck in an attempt to fund the light switch. Before I could reach it, I was bathed in light from behind. Surprised, I whirled around to see Vigil fiddling with his bracelet. The falcon wings were extended like before, but instead of shooting energy beams, it bathed me in a beam of soft white light.

  “That thing is like the Swiss Army knife of bracelets, huh?” I quipped. He tossed me a confused look and I realized he probably had no idea what a Swiss Army knife was so I waved my hand dismissively. “Never mind.”

  The ride lasted about twenty-five minutes before we reached the guard station. I had no watch from which to measure the voyage, but I did my best guesstimate. Bofor could be heard speaking to someone who I assumed was the guard on duty. Vigil turned off his bracelet, as if plunging us into complete darkness would somehow hide us from prying eyes on the outside of the vehicle. I rolled my eyes, but it went unseen.

  After a few minutes of conversation passed, the truck started moving again. Light filled the truck once again.

  “It seems we passed the first hurdle,” I remarked.

  “I will not feel satisfied until we reach our destination,” he replied sourly.

  Fifteen minutes later, the truck came to a halt. The door opened and we heard Bofor exit the vehicle. After several tense moments passed without the rear door opening, Vigil moved to the front of the truck and placed his ear against the wall.

  “I don't hear anything.”

  “Maybe he just stepped out to scout ahead,” I offered. I rose to my feet in anticipation, despite my assurances.

  We heard the door open and Bofor return to the driver seat. He let out an audible sigh. “Damn it,” he growled.

  Vigil and I exchanged concerned looks before he banged on the wall. “Hey, what's going on out there!” he shouted.

  A panel in the wall slid open, revealing Bofor's grim expression. “Come see for yourself.”

  A clicking sound came from behind us before the rear doors swung open. I rushed out of the truck and toward the front of the vehicle. I froze in my tracks when I saw the scene. The encroaching darkness hid most of the building, but the vehicle headlights reflected the domed architecture of the terminal. We had stopped about three hundred yards from the entrance, but I could make out several shapes on the ground. Two bodies were on the ground just outside the terminal entrance. My desire to identify the bodies immediately changed to an onset of horror as my heart leapt into my throat. Vigil approached and stopped next to me. I turned to see the depressed look carved on his face. I kept my closed fists by my side and clenched my teeth so hard I was sure one would crack. I blinked my eyes several times, as if the action would change what I saw.

  There was smoke coming from the terminal.

  Calypso

  There was a knock at the door. Calypso sighed and put down the galactic map he had been studying. It wasn't just a coincidence that his home planet of Charr was located in that particular galaxy. The planet was next on his list of targets. Their Technetium industry would be critical to the future success of the new Consortium.

  “Come in,” he bellowed.

  Kale shuffled in and let the door slide shut behind him. “I thought you would like to know we have entered Caelum's orbit.”

  Kale was his usual stoic self, which frustrated Calypso to no end. His tinted glass helmet allowed no one to see his face—or his facial expressions. For all he knew, Kale was sticking his tongue out every time he spoke. Calypso prided himself on reading people and anticipating their next move. It simply wasn't possible with Kale and that created a gap of distrust between the two. Despite his mistrust, he was pleased to hear the news.

  “Right on schedule,” Calypso beamed. “What is the situation at the Akropolis?”

  With the death of Meta came unrest among the Caelumites. Not since the early days of the Consortium had anyone other than a Civet sat upon the throne. They weren't too fond of a Council rule. Unknown to them, Calypso had no intention of issuing a Council rule. He planned to seat himself upon the throne. It was now time to minimize the collateral damage from such a decision.

  Kale shrugged casually. “It's what was to be expected. Discord runs through the ranks of the Aquanauts. An uneasy peace has existed between the two sides ever since the Dark Wars, a peace that had been agreed upon as long as a Civet sat upon the throne.”

  Calypso's mood darkened. “Don't you think I know the history? I spent my fair share of time among the Archives. This is why I suggested years ago that Meta appoint Hark-Kalech on the Council. It was meant to solidify the peace!”

  Kale folded his arms across his chest. “So you knew that events would play out as they have?”

  Calypso slowly rose from his chair. “I am not sure I like your tone Kale. You seem to be implying that my plan was anything more than a mission to overthrow a tyrant who had extended his reach of power illegally.”

  Kale held his hands out defensively. “I meant no disrespect Calypso. I was just pointing out that it seemed a great coincidence. Those who wish to undo what you have begun may use that as leverage and rally more to the Insurgent's cause.”

  Calypso ran his hand through his hair before straightening his tie. “I understand the stakes. That's why I am instructing Hark-Kalech to travel to the Sunken City to plead calm among his people as soon as we land.”

  “A wise decision,” Kale agreed. “We cannot hope to spread peace throughout the galaxies if we cannot do it at home.”

  A few moments of silence passed between them before Calypso finally broke it. “Do you have something else for me?”

  Kale shrugged. “It is not a big deal, but I wanted to see if I could head to the detention ward to speak with the prisoner. I believe he holds information that may be used against the Insurgents.”

  Calypso laughed. “More power to you if you can get that guy to talk. You do realize he isn't in much of a talking mood, right?”

  Kale chuckled. It was a throaty, mechanical sound and Calypso wasn't sure if it was the helmet that caused it or the species of being that the enigmatic Kale was. Despite their years of serving together, his origi
ns remained a mystery.

  “While I do not doubt your interrogation abilities, Calypso, I feel there may be a few 'incentives' I can offer the assassin to get him to talk.”

  Calypso cocked an eyebrow. “I admit you have my attention. What incentives do you propose?”

  Kale stiffened. “No offense, but I don't want to reveal that just yet.”

  Calypso narrowed his eyes and studied Kale. The inability to see what he was thinking drove him to the brink of madness. He wanted to sprint across the room and strangle him, but he chewed back his anger. “Fine,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Will there be anything else before we land?”

  Kale bowed his head and Calypso couldn't help but feel he was being mocked from beneath the helmet. “No sir,” he replied. He turned and exited the room, leaving Calypso alone to simmer with frustration.

  Quelling the unrest on Caelum was top priority for Calypso, but not far behind was replacing Kale on the Council. He simply could not have someone in a position of power that he did not trust. Many names had been floated around (most of them by Hark-Kalech, who had a vested interest in the subject), but the only one who stood out was Captain Daranan of the Defense Fleet. He had been a loyal soldier and a veteran of many combat missions who was well liked among his peers. The thought of Kale booted from the Council made him smile.

  When he looked out the window, he saw they were entering Caelum's orbit and making their final descent. The ship rocketed past the sprawling velvet treetops of Monmossa Park, which eventually faded into the white, sandy beaches along the Obsidian Sea. As the ship sped over the ocean, Calypso turned to his work desk and begun the process of organizing the galactic charts and returning them to their respective folders. With the disorganization plaguing recent event, he wanted to try to be as organized as possible.

  As soon as the last chart was filed away, the communicator on the wall beeped. It was Noz who had relieved Calypso as Captain of the Astral Spirit after Moro had been captured. “We have entered Akropolis airspace and making our final descent.”

  Calypso slammed the desk door shut and made his way to the bridge. When he stepped onto the bridge, Noz was already relaying security codes to air security forces on the ground. After Meta's debacle with Earth and Embeth's defection, the Council scrambled to put extra security measures in place. Despite the fact that there has not been a direct attack on Caelum since the Lumagom coup centuries ago, there was no point in taking unnecessary risks.

  Noz returned the radio to its cradle and turned to Calypso. “Everything is in order.”

  The overhead screen showed the spires of the Akropolis jutting above the cliff side along the ocean like a set of bad teeth. They loomed closer as the ship approached the landing pad. Their iron-infused stone tips were a stark reminder of the craftsmanship of the Civet civilization. Calypso grimaced when he thought of the damage control needed to win over the populace.

  “Good,” he replied. His frown faded and he offered Noz a weak smile. “It is time to lead the Consortium into a new generation of prosperity, the way it was meant to be.”

  Noz shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat, as long as I keep getting paid.”

  Calypso rolled his eyes before hopping on the elevator and taking it down to the cargo hold, which led to the entry ramp. Varooq had said he would meet Calypso upon landing. Hopefully, he had been able to stabilize things on the ground, otherwise it would be a long day. When he reached the cargo hold, Hark-Kalech was waiting for him with a sour look. He held an MDC (mobile digital communicator) in his hand. On the screen was an image of a large group in front of the Akropolis entrance, holding protest signs and waving their hands angrily.

  “This is the latest news reports from CMN.” He handed the MDC to Calypso.

  CMN was the Caelum Media Network, the primary media outlet responsible for reporting news worldwide. Calypso studied the scene with disappointment. “How long has this been going on?” he asked.

  Hark-Kalech shrugged. “Varooq says not long, but he warns that activist groups have been calling for the ascension of Nar'Shalla to the throne.”

  “Ridiculous!” Calypso exclaimed. “He is just a boy!”

  Hark-Kalech sighed and rubbed his face wearily. “That he may be, but he is also Civet.” His hand drifted to the lever next to the cargo bay door. “Are you ready?”

  Despite his calm exterior, Calypso was seething. The Consortium would become his to control and he would be damned if he'd let a 14-year-old boy stand in his way. He eliminated all of the obstacles to his ascension to the throne. This would just be another that would need to be dealt with. Nothing would stop his master plan.

  “I am ready.”

  The Terminal

  Dark wisps of smoke drifted out of the entrance from inside the terminal. I turned to say something to Vigil, but when I saw the despair etched on his face, I decided against it. Vigil was probably lamenting the loss of his ride home, but my concern was focused solely on Lianne. I wasn't sure if, mentally, I would be able to absorb the loss of another person who had been close to me. Losing Kedge and Lianne in the same day would be too much. Despite all of Vanth's training, I would become broken—emotionally and physically.

  Bofor exited the vehicle and carefully approached us. His worried look mimicked our own. “It doesn't look good. Do you plan on continuing?”

  “We have to. We have no other option,” I admitted.

  Bofor nodded solemnly and grabbed the guitar. “Let's do it then.” He slung it over his shoulder started toward the terminal.

  Vigil stopped him. “You don't need to do this. This is our fight.”

  Bofor cocked his head to the side and shrugged. “Yeah, it is, but you see, I don't like the Order and if I have the chance to make their life miserable, than I want to be the first in line to watch the carnage.” He smiled widely, revealing yellow teeth and less than pleasant breath.

  He handed me the sidearm he had in the truck. It was smaller than any handgun I had ever seen. The barrel was no bigger than two inches and the trigger guard was almost as large as the handle. I looked at it skeptically.

  “Are you serious with this thing?” I turned it over in my hands disdainfully.

  Bofor's smile faded. “Never judge a corpse flower by its size.”

  “Ok, whatever that means,” I grumbled.

  Bofor sighed. “It means the weapon will be enough for you. Trust me.”

  Without saying another word, he led us to the terminal. I became more anxious with each step. Despite my distrust in the weapon, it was all I had, so I resigned myself to making the best out of the situation. There would be trouble in the terminal and I needed to be ready, whether I had a pea shooter or a bazooka. We approached the first corpse apprehensively and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the corpse was not one of ours.

  “He was with the Order,” Bofor remarked. He crouched down and examined the body. “This fella here was stabbed.” He pointed to a gash in his left side, near the heart. He stood up and pointed to a trail of blood which led inside. “It appears he wasn't killed here.” He motioned toward the blood trail. “This guy was running from something.”

  Most of the Stellar Horizon's crew carried rifles and plasma weapons. Only one person on board carried a weapon capable of leaving this particular wound: Lianne. I hoped we would find her in better shape than the soldier.

  We entered the terminal and into a scene of carnage. A nearby vending machine bled exotic drinks onto the floor from several blaster holes, which pockmarked the machine. Several bodies were scattered around the terminal, but any hope I had faded when I noticed the wisps of black smoke that escaped the Stellar Horizon.

  “Damn this thing!”

  I gripped the handgun tightly. The shout came from the other side of the ship so the three of us approached cautiously. When we reached the other side of the ship, I noticed a panel had been opened and a person worked feverishly to repair some wires that had been singed. A blaster hole marred the hull next to i
t.

  The person turned around to pick up a tool that lay on the ground nearby and when I saw who it was, I dropped the gun and ran to her. She saw me coming from the corner of her eye and tensed up, forming a defensive stance. I fell into her arms before she could even comprehend what had happened.

  “Thank God you're alive!” My voice was muffled by her padded leather armor and muscled shoulder.

  She pried me away and held me at arm's length. When I saw her face, my smile faded. Blood streaked her cheeks like scarlet tattoos. Her eyes were hollow, almost cold, and her mouth twisted into a fierce scowl. She appeared almost…feral.

  After a minute had passed, she recognized me and the look faded. She smiled, but her feral look remained etched into my memory. I had to admit her look of bloodlust frightened me.

  Before she could say anything, Jayce came around the corner with a rifle pointed in our direction, but lowered it when he saw us. “Sorry, I heard a commotion and thought it was more of them.” He gestured disdainfully toward the corpses scattered around the room.

  “What happened here?” Vigil asked.

  “They came for us and we took them out,” Lianne replied curtly.

  “More will come,” Bofor said.

  Lianne eyeballed him. “Who is this?”

  “Please to meet your acquaintance,” Bofor replied and bowed low. The gesture was actually quite comedic due to his oversized noggin. It was like watching the ball drop on New Year's Eve. I had to chew back a giggle. “My name is Bofor and I come bearing gifts.” He gestured toward Vigil and I.

  “There seems to be a rebel uprising brewing,” Vigil explained. “Bofor assists in providing safe passage for them.”

  “He's a friend,” I added.

  “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” Lianne responded. She returned to the panel and resumed her repairs to the ship.

  Bofor shrugged. “I guess I'll let you get back to work. I better get home to Shmee or I will never hear the end of it.”