David Sakmyster - The Cydonia Objective

Orlando leapt it awkwardly, crashed onto his knees and rolled. And kept rolling into the darkness.

He got up and looked back to the approaching light. Hunched his shoulders and ducked his head.

Step on it you sonofa-

But the light just intensified and the thudding footsteps stopped and skidded. The Eye stood right over him. The gun pointing down.

Lucky bastard, Orlando thought, looking up into the glare and offering an exhausted smile. “Got me.” He closed his eyes, ready for a gunshot to the head or at least a punch that would shatter his fragile jaw, knock out his teeth and mess with his almost-good-looks to the point Phoebe would probably never gaze longingly at him again. If we ever even make it out of here.

But instead, he heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Hey ugly! Back here!”

Surprisingly, it sounded like it belonged to a little girl.

Phoebe and Ariamade their stand at the entrance to the upward sloping tunnel. “I’ve seen this,” the Hummingbird said calmly. They had followed the Eye back out, after Aria had first kissed her father’s face, almost sobbing but happy he was still breathing. “Let’s end this,” Phoebe said, taking Aria’s hand and leading her out.

They moved quietly but quickly, following the Eye’s bludgeoning track after Orlando.

“We’ll save him,” Aria whispered, sensing Phoebe’s urgency once she realized who that was up there, fleeing blindly into the dark. Once the Eye had glanced back, but the darkness—and her mental shield—had protected them from his sight. He turned one corner, then another.

Phoebe quickened the pace, almost pulling Aria off her feet. What was she thinking? They had no weapons. As much as she had hoped to take the weapons off the charred dead men, the guns were partially melted, and way too hot to touch. So they moved ahead, armed with nothing but optimism.

“Hey ugly!” Aria shouted just as they turned the corner and saw the Eye standing over Orlando. “Back here!”

Phoebe put her hand around Aria’s mouth, but it didn’t matter. The Eye had seen. He shined his light on them, catching and blinding them both.

“Ahhhh,” came the echoing sound. “My lost birds. Thought you could fly to freedom?”

Aria pushed Phoebe’s hand away. “I’ll never be caged again.”

“Think not?” The voice approaching. The light, brighter.

“I’ve seen it,” she said defiantly, holding up her arms, wing-like. “You can’t catch me.”

“Aria—” Phoebe hissed, trying to pull her back. But then she realized it was too late.

He came barreling toward them, charging like a madman, his lone eye gleaming with hate.

Aria smiled as she turned, pulling Phoebe around with her and ducking.

The Eye saw the move and had a sudden flash. A vision. Too late, he couldn’t stop or change his forward momentum—which took him right onto the pressure plate. The mine flattened under his right foot. His left dug in, halting his motion, but he was already falling forward, sliding off the plate.

“This isn’t over.” He dropped to a knee, his back leg twisted at a nearly impossible angle, still exerting just enough pressure on the trap to stave off detonation. He closed his eye.

Behind him, Orlando had stood up, and was backing away after a glance assured him of Phoebe’s safety.

“It’s over for you,” Aria called back. “And soon for your friends.”

The Eye chuckled. “I have many friends. You may get those here, but the others—the masters I truly serve…” His laughter continued as he sighed and moved his foot off the trap.

“There will be nowhere to hide.”

The explosion rocked the cavern and sent chunks of flesh and bone in all direction.

Orlando ducked just in time and kept his head down, hoping the whole roof wouldn’t collapse with the blast.

Finally he stood and looked back, but could barely make anything out. The explosion had taken out the flashlight as well.

“Phoebs?”

“Here,” came the echoing response. “We’re ok. Follow my voice.”

“And watch where you step,” came the girl’s voice.

Orlando moved ahead. “Yuch. I’m so taking a shower after this is over.”

Just then, several flashlight beams converged on Phoebe and Aria. Shouts and screams. In Arabic from the left, English from the right.

Phoebe pushed Aria ahead, toward Orlando and into the branching tunnel just as gunshots erupted. Rushing forward, Orlando met them both and Phoebe threw her arms around him and pushed him against the wall. The gunfire continued. Men screamed and screamed and then…

Silence.

Lights filled the hallway.

Phoebe pressed her lips against Orlando’s ear. “It’s okay, I think…”

“Hi there,” said the little girl, stepping back into the corridor and waving into the light. “My dad said you’ve been looking for me.”

The lights dimmed, moved away, and Orlando saw a half-dozen men, their khakis torn and filthy, some limping and nursing wounds, but alive. Temple lowered his light.

“That I have, little one, that I have.” He looked at Phoebe and Orlando, then at the mess in the center of the tunnel. “Good work, you two. Now come on, let’s get this one’s father, and then get out of here.”

Aria reached back and took Phoebe’s hand and Orlando’s arm and walked between them. She looked up at them both, smiling. “We’re going to the snow mountain where the wizards live.”

Phoebe and Orlando glanced at each other, then shrugged.

Temple shook his head in wonder. “Damn, she’s good. Glad she’s going to be on our team.”

Egypt

Nina strapped the MP5 submachine gun over her shoulder as she climbed the ancient steps out of the Sphinx’s lower chamber. She headed back outside, into the winds and the sound of the helicopter engine. She ascended and moved into the semicircle of soldiers awaiting Senator Calderon and his guests.

As the seconds dragged on and the door still didn’t open, she was surprised to feel so calm. Here it was, finally she was going to meet her boys. Her children. After all those years apart. All that time, did they even know she was alive and sedated? Did they visit? Did they care, or did Calderon shape their minds to one single purpose, stoking their egos and building them up as… what were they to him? Messiahs, or merely tools to his own ascension?

She clenched her teeth and fought a renewed pain from the shoulder wound she’d received back on the Mongolian steppes. She’d have to get the dressings changed and have that looked at soon, but so far she’d been running on adrenaline, purpose fueling her every step of the way. She’d come too far, and now she had a new purpose. A responsibility.

Suddenly she was very jealous, bitter at Calderon for depriving her of the chance to mold these children, to shape them into the future leaders the way she would have wanted. And what about Caleb? She struggled with that the most. Two hours ago she would have gladly stuck a knife in his heart and twisted it slowly. He had left her, presumed she was dead and left her without so much as an RV attempt to check on her. But if he had seen her, lying there helpless in a coma, would he have even come to her aid?

Maybe, she thought, if he had seen she was pregnant.

But none of that mattered now.

Now, the door was opening. Two small forms leapt out in unison. They both set flashy skateboards on the paveway and pushed off together, gliding toward her.

They executed a sharp inward turns, skidded to a stop several feet away, then kicked up their boards into their hands.

The one on the left stretched out his arms. “Hello, mother.”