by Dan O'Brien
Dana smiled.
“He is a hero. He does what is right.”
*
Marlowe licked his lips as he moved across the rocks. He had abandoned watching the walls as the skittering denizens had begun to fill every inch of it––something that was terribly vexing to a man as displaced as he was. The path was straight in a manner of speaking, in that there was only one way forward and one way backward.
“We have to get out of the city,” he echoed, recalling Dana’s words. “Not exactly working out well, is it?”
The thunder came again, shaking the walls of the rocky enclosure. Some pieces dislodged, raining down on his shoulders, much to his chagrin. “Whole place is going to fall down on top of me,” he murmured as he trudged forward.
The trail rose for some time, the coolness of the caverns lessening with each step. He was nearing the surface. Moving with renewed purpose, he sought the heat of the world. That would lead him back to Dana, back to whatever purpose it was that he served.
XVII
A
rmon paced back and forth irritably in the former chambers of Aaron Roth. “What do you mean Cerulean Dreams cannot track him?” he asked.
The scientist who stood before the assassin shook at his forceful tone. Susan stood beside him, her composure and grace regained. She shook her head and stepped out ahead of the wizened man.
“Without the uplink we cannot focus in on his signature as we would have previously. The long-range scans of the desert go in maybe fifteen, twenty kilometers. It has been a night and nearly another day. They could be long beyond that range now.”
Armon shook his head angrily, his veneer cracking. “I find it difficult to believe that given the powerful technology of Orion, granted by Babylon, that we are incapable of finding a single heat signature amidst a sea of nothingness.”
The older man touched the screen of the machine he held in his hands. His eyes were a dull gray. Glasses hung down on his nose as he looked at the screen. “It is not that we are incapable of finding something, it is that we haven’t found anyone. We have to know where to look in order to find something. There are accumulations of dense rocks in the desert. They may simply have found shelter,” he reasoned, not meeting Armon’s gaze.
Armon sat into the plush seat behind the wide desk. Draping his hands over the armrests, he turned so that he looked out upon Orion. “This city is a beacon. Here, people live in peace; a populace born of the apocalypse that now lives in harmony. This man disrupts it with his insubordination. He must be found.”
Susan shifted past the old man, placing her hands on the desk. “Is he traveling to the Tower?” she whispered, casting a suspicious glance over her shoulder at the other man.
Armon stifled his laugh and smiled broadly, not bothering to turn back to her. “You and Lord Niehl think very similarly it would seem. That was his fear.”
Susan pushed herself from the table with a sigh.
“That is a valid fear.”
Armon spun slowly to meet her gaze.
“He will not make it to the Tower. The desert is deadly and the mountains beyond impassable. He is simply beyond our reach at this moment. He will cross our path again, Ms. Crowne.”
The scientist stepped forward.
“There is evidence of tribesmen. Wallguards have witnessed shapes and forms moving about in the night. What if he finds assistance? His capture will be that much more difficult.”
“Indeed, Dr…”
The man nodded, shifting uncomfortably.
“Dr. Michaels.”
“That is a valid point, Dr. Michaels, if such witnesses were not simply rumors. There is no desert tribe. No city at the center of that blazing death. The Eye of Babylon has witnessed no such city and you can believe in that, my good doctor.”
He nodded dejectedly. “Of course, sir. I was only suggesting some possibilities.”
“That is what Cerulean Dreams is all about, isn’t it? The possibilities. Endless, limitless possibilities of Orion. But here in Orion you forget, as the late Dr. Roth had forgotten, that there are greater powers, agendas that govern this city. Lest you forget your place, since here in Orion much power is wielded by many who are unworthy.”
Susan’s eyes flashed angrily, the silver hue haunting. “You have a loose tongue, Brother Armon. Dr. Michaels is not a Child of Babylon. Such talk is foolish.”
Armon leapt from his chair, his lithe body standing atop the desk. It was as if he had simply taken a step. “Foolish? You forget your place. Cerulean Dreams is a conduit and as for speaking in front of your doctor….”
Armon’s speed was uncanny.
Despite his injury, he was as powerful and spry as ever, lifting the poor doctor into the air. The lightning crackled across his body. The undulating power and branches of it killed the man almost instantly. “Those unworthy shall be laid to dust. That is my charge. I am the hand of death. The Archangel of Babylon that deals out blood and mercy.”
Dr. Crowne watched Armon with fear.
“You should not so easily…”
He was upon her in a footstep. Her throat in his hand, twisted slightly so as to hear her gurgle and groan. “Lord Niehl said I may crush as many Orionians as are in my path, only that I should spare my brothers and sisters. He was not pleased with the unauthorized departure of our late Brother.”
Her eyes bulged.
She clawed at his hands.
“It would appear that such exterminations were an occupational hazard.” He released her, massaging his hand thoughtfully. “I grow tired of threatening you, Ms. Crowne.” She rubbed her throat, struggling to find her voice once more. “He took my pack, a seemingly inconsequential thing. However, there are devices within that will allow us to acquire the trace that we need.”
She swallowed and nodded.
“How did he get your pack?”
Armon ran his finger over the table.
The actions of this Orionian had brought upon him a terrible frustration, one that threatened his methods. He had to force down the anger that rose within him. “As you may recall, Ms. Crowne, I was pinned to the floor of the atrium in a rather crude manner. I must admit that at that time I was unable to properly safeguard my person and belongings.”
She took a cautionary step forward.
“What was in the pack?”
Armon flicked his hand away dismissively.
“Supplies of a kind and a transceiver. It is that particular piece of equipment that will be Marlowe’s undoing. It maintains a constant and viable connection.”
Susan watched Armon like a cornered animal.
There was little good about the man. Though handsome, he was more creature than man; more creation than living thing.
“It will be difficult for OrionCorps or CDCC to march through the desert. The air outside the walls of Orion is difficult to breathe. We, they, are not acclimated to such heat.” Armon smiled. His white teeth were fangs. “Nor to the infection, the plague.”
Susan circled around the desk.
“Then take only OrionCorps if it still lingers. We cannot risk widespread infection again. We cannot have another incident.”
“That is why I need to retrieve Marlowe and my pack,” he replied, his tone flippant. His careful eyes watched the lights of the city. Again the sun was setting. Another day would soon be lost to the hunt. Impatience was beginning to seep in and find a home in Armon of Babylon. “The injections.”
“If Marlowe were to take those injections, he would…” she began, looking out onto the city as well.
Armon grimaced, his face taut as he thought. “Marlowe is afflicted. I was not aware of it until my conversation with Lord Niehl. Marlowe spoke of a map, runes, and the pursuit of a quest, a journey into something he did not know. This is not unlike those afflicted in the era before the plague.”
Susan’s face was hidden in the shadow of the room.
The lights had not yet dawned, for the sun had not set, night still approaching. “W
e are in great danger. Marlowe will undo us all. Even if you were to reach him….”
Armon sighed, his anger dissipated, replaced instead by a hollow frustration. “I realize that now. Lord Niehl does not share our pessimism. I am afraid that even the death of Marlowe will not be enough to thwart the emergence of another incident.”
“To start again…” she started.
“Would be difficult, disastrous. We have already lost too much,” finished Armon.
Susan turned.
“The squadron of OrionCorps has been assembled in full gear. It will be long into the night before the environment regulators are working properly. Will that be sufficient?”
Armon nodded with his back to her.
“It will have to do.”
She walked away from him.
He cleared his throat, catching her attention.
“Dr. Crowne?
She hesitated, catching her breath.
“Yes, Brother Armon?”
“It would be good if you returned home. Instruct a lower scientist to carry out your duties for the time being. We cannot risk the loss of Babylonian lives. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
Continuing out the door and into the outer hall, she pushed thoughts of Orion and Marlowe out of her head. There were preparations, things that had to be done. Susan Crowne of Babylon would soon return home.
*
Dana peered out of the cavern, watching as night crept across the skies, chasing away the sun. The temperature of the air had cooled. It was almost chilly. She drew the pack closer to her, digging through the bottom to find something to wrap around her shoulders.
“It does grow cooler through the night.”
Dana spun, her hand gripping the pistol in the pack, though not removing it. “I had noticed. How far is it to your village?”
Sephes moved closer to the edge of the cavern, looking as well into the encroaching night. “It will take us most of the night to reach it. This valley winds for some distance. We will be safe from the Mimic if we keep moving.”
Dana watched as the first glimmer of stars filled the night air. “And Marlowe?”
Sephes held out her arm, Icarus standing proudly. She flicked her arm up and the hawk flew away, out into the night.
“Icarus will watch for him.”
Dana nodded.
Things were moving too fast.
They had been struggling to get out of Orion together and now they had found themselves separated. She watched as Sephes stepped past, noticing the girl for the first time in the light of the moon. Her long legs were thin, but muscular. Curly black hair fell in ringlets over her shoulders, longer in the back and feathered as it reached her delicate face.
Sephes turned to Dana and they both blushed. “The light of the moon will guide us well. We need to leave now.”
Dana pushed herself from the ground. Slinging the dark pack around her shoulders, she felt the grip of the straps dig into her skin. She gritted her teeth and moved forward after the darting figure of Sephes. The valley was silent except for the distant sound of lizards that hunted in the night, scurrying across the sands. She watched as Sephes moved out ahead, her graceful movements enticing to Dana. The very notion was strange to her.
Marlowe: where was he?
She tried to occupy her mind with thoughts of her protector and not the strange woman who now served as her guide to a hidden village.
Sephes crested the side of the valley, looking out across the calm desert. The white sands were darkened in the night. She saw Icarus soaring high in the sky, past the moon and circling back from where she had found Dana earlier in the day.
She could not help but find the eyes of the woman strange. The silver glint was familiar. Though young by village standards, Sephes was old enough to hunt and scout. Had she seen another with silver eyes? Shaking her head, she slid down the side of the sand valley, in step with Dana, instead of out ahead.
“Is he your father?” she asked, startling Dana.
Dana looked at the woman.
The wide green eyes watched her.
“No.”
“Brother?”
Dana shook her head. “No.”
“Husband?”
Sephes held her breath.
Dana chuckled.
“Not even close.”
Sephes smiled and peered ahead of them, her questions satisfied. “Why did you leave the Wall?” she asked, watching the corners of the valley. All manner of sand creature danced in the night, catching food or simply traveling in the cooler temperatures as she and Dana were.
Dana shrugged her shoulders, readjusting the pack on her back. “The Wall?”
Sephes motioned over her shoulder. “Near where I found you. The great wall that stands between the desert and your beyond. Why would you come out from behind the Wall?”
“Orion, you mean why would I leave Orion?”
“Is Orion your home?” queried Sephes.
Dana watched the stars as they passed beneath them. “I am not sure. It is the only place I can remember. It felt foreign to me. I feared there. Marlowe found me and helped me escape.”
“Marlowe….” Sephes said quietly.
Dana looked at the girl.
Her head bowed slightly, her features saddened.
“How old are you, Sephes?”
“I have seen more than two hundred full moons,” she answered with a broad smile. “When one of us has seen two hundred moons, they must become hunters, to learn the ways of the desert. That is why I was wandering.”
Dana smiled. “I see. I do not know how old I am.”
Sephes looked at her strangely. “How could you not know? How many moons have you seen?”
Dana grimaced, pressing her hands against her temples. “One moon. That can’t be right,” she laughed, though a throbbing had arisen in her mind.
“One moon? That would make you very young indeed,” replied Sephes. She looked into the distance, watching as the valley wove and ducked.
The sand swirled in the desert breeze.
“I feel––strange….” spoke Dana, as she stumbled, falling into the sand on her knees.
Sephes had continued forward. Enraptured by the night, her thoughts were of Dana. “I have never felt this way either.”
Dana felt her throat tighten, her stomach turned.
“I….”
Sephes turned. She was at her side immediately, holding one of Dana’s hands in her own, using her other arm to support Dana as she crumbled further. “What is the matter?”
Dana tried to lift her head, but the act was too difficult.
“I feel weak, sick….”
Sephes slipped the pack from around Dana’s shoulders and cradled her. “Can you walk?” she questioned as she touched the top of Dana’s head. “We need to keep moving.”
Dana shook her head. Her hair was damp to the touch. “I––don’t think I can.”
Sephes slipped an arm underneath Dana’s legs, picking her up easily in her arms. “I will carry you, Dana, for as far as I can. We will rest soon.”
Dana tried to refuse the offer, to insist that she could walk. Darkness gripped the edges of her vision and soon her mind danced in shadow. The much taller Sephes galloped on, her legs infused with purpose.
XVIII
M
arlowe felt the breeze before he saw the narrow exit of the cavern. He knew it was night before he reached the surface. The ascending path wound, like a circular staircase, until it erupted into a jagged opening that led into the wide mouth of a cavern. The ceiling was domed; the far side opened into the night air.
He could see the white dunes beyond the exit.
Moving closer to his escape, he surveyed the ground carefully, shining the guard light of his rifle left to right. Craning his neck back, he saw that the crawling creatures of his nightmares had followed him through the underground caves. Their numbers crowded behind him, plastering to the walls.
“You guys nee
d to branch out, find some new friends,” he called out. He didn’t bother to look at them, as the very sight of their hollow faces was often enough to force him into waves of paranoia. In their eyes, he lost himself. There he saw only what might happen, only what could go wrong.
Lowering himself to the ground, he touched an indention in the sand. “Someone sat here,” he spoke and then shining the light across the cave, he saw another indention. Touching the ground, it was warm. “Someone here as well, not long ago.”
He felt his heart surge. It could be Dana. He scrambled across the ground, watching as the footsteps trailed out of the cavern and into the valley. They led east, deeper into the canyon of sand. “Dana,” he spoke.
Marlowe moved out of the cavern and onto the trail. Watching the ground, he saw two distinct sets of footprints. “Is she a prisoner?” he wondered out loud.
The slithering of a sand snake drew his attention. It was as thick and broad as a pipe with a melon-sized head. It did not bother with Marlowe. Making eye contact as the guard light passed over its massive form, it moved back up the valley wall and out into the desert.
He kept his rifle trained on where the snake had disappeared for some time. Satisfied that it had gone, he continued forward. The footfalls staggered, the impressions in the sand clustered. There was a circular indention. Then just a single set of footprints, larger than those left by Dana’s feet. He touched the sand and looked out across the dunes.
The pack: it was a shadowed object in the darkness. Marlowe bent and picked it up; it was partially undone. He dug around inside. The pistol was still inside, a large black blanket, and a spherical metal object. He let the pack fall to the ground and grasped the sphere tightly in his hands.
“Dana,” he roared, his voice echoing far off into the distance. The sphere began to hum, a brilliant white light exploding over Marlowe’s face.
