The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker)

by Griffith, P. D.

  Once he’d removed the bright orange stopper from the top and extracted a single ball bearing from the vial, Cortland put the set back in his pocket and stepped up to the lock. Landon held his breath the entire time Cortland worked to maneuver a small ball bearing through the series of interlaced lasers. It was only a simulation, but if they triggered the alarm, they would have failed the exercise, and Landon didn’t want to know what the punishment would be for that.

  After what seemed like an hour, Cortland stepped back from the door and everyone could hear a series of metal clinks within the wall as the ball bearing passed through the tube and performed some internal function. Following a final plink, the titanium rods sonorously released and the steel door cracked open.

  Making quick work of the course, the team moved through the corridor and continued on to their next obstacle, but just as they came up to a long passageway riddled with motion- and weight-sensor booby traps, the white-lit floors and walls of the Palaestra started to flicker on and off, and a high-pitched bell chimed from above.

  “What’s going on? Did we lose?” Landon asked as he looked to his other team members.

  “No,” Cortland replied loud enough to be heard over the deafening bell. “We have a mission.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  METIS LABS

  “Pantheon,” Dr. Brighton shouted from near the lift, “we’ll continue this exercise another time. We must get up to the Temple ASAP. Briefing in two minutes. Apollo and Echo, you both are in on this one.”

  The entire team hustled over to the lift as fast as they could. Cortland even gave Landon a congratulatory pat on the back as they ran out of the course. Landon was thunderstruck. Thinking it meant he was close to becoming an active operative, he was excited when he saw the simulation course that morning, but he’d never expected his transition to active status to happen so suddenly and unceremoniously. Barely having enough time to realize he’d been called into active duty, Landon was alighting from the lift and being herded to his first mission briefing. Am I ready for this? Why do they need me on this mission?

  The team met up with Dr. Wells and Verne, the director of tech ops, who were waiting for them at the central console of the Temple—the Altar. Once inside the circle, Dr. Wells pressed the necessary buttons on the console and the fogged, sound-proof glass tube extended out of the floor, sealing them in for their briefing. The golden eagle emblem flashed into existence above the Altar and began to rotate on the holographic screen.

  Landon had a grimace on his face as he watched Dr. Wells work. He couldn’t help but see the younger version of the gymasiarch standing before him exuding ambition and deception to a fault.

  Dr. Wells pressed a blinking button, and the eagle was replaced by a detailed topographical map like the one Landon saw the first time he’d been taken around the Olympic Tower.

  “Pantheon, this is Metis Labs,” Dr. Wells started as he turned and faced the team. They stood in a semicircle around Dr. Wells; Landon was on the end, with Verne close by. The building displayed on the Altar was a tall cylindrical tower. It appeared to be a solitary building surrounded by thick forest and a rugged mountain range—isolated, like the Gymnasium. “We’ve been tracking them for some time now.

  “Recently, we became aware that Dr. Lovecraft”—a holographic image of a man’s head appeared beside the map. He had scraggly grey hair that extended down to the base of his neck and a leathery face with deep crags running down his cheeks and across his forehead. He had a sinister expression—“Head of Metis Labs biogenetic research department, has made extensive developments in an experiment they call Project Herakles. We’ve been told they are planning on auctioning its results on the black market to the highest bidder in the next few days. The contents of the study are still unconfirmed, but the latest report speculates that it has disastrous homeland security implications should it fall into the hands of one of our enemies.” Dr. Wells leaned his head down and scanned the attentive Pantheon members over the top of his glasses. The next statement he said emphatically. “We cannot allow this sale to take place. It is imperative that Metis Labs does not distribute the contents of Project Herakles.”

  Dr. Wells turned back to the console and pressed a few more buttons. “The operation is simple,” he continued. “You will infiltrate the Metis Labs compound, break into Dr. Lovecraft’s laboratory on the forty-seventh floor and secure all electronic and hard documents pertaining to Project Herakles. Once you’ve obtained the files, you will wipe their system of any traces of the project and return to base.”

  As he spoke, the holographic map lowered back into prominent focus and Landon watched as a bright blue digital version of the Alpha Chariot moved into view from off the screen and descended into a clearing in the woods about two miles away from the Metis Labs compound. He then watched as eight blue men exited the Alpha Chariot and made their way through the woods, into the building and up to the forty-seventh floor. All the while a dashed line trailed behind them to mark the expected flow of the operation.

  “Verne, show us what you’ve got,” Dr. Wells said as he motioned for Verne to come forward and speak to the operatives.

  “Okay, well, umm”—Landon was surprised by how timid and nervous Verne seemed to be. He was so energetic and passionate when he’d first met him in the Forge, but now he seemed absolutely terrified—“Uh . . . Apollo here has already gotten a glimpse of this . . . but, uh, anyways, this little device here—” Verne held his hand up to the Pantheon. Stuck on the tip of his index finger was a little black dot of a thing. “—it will allow you access to the entire computer network at Metis Labs. You see, they have a polymorphic, 1024-bit, multiple encryption routine, which will take forever to manually hack into, but this will do it in approximately ten seconds.” Verne moved closer to the console and started shifting his attention between the computer and the operatives with erratic motions of his head. “You just place the device near the computer, like, say, on the keyboard, or maybe on top of the monitor, uh, whichever you choose. It’s your decision. It will do the rest.” He let out an audible sigh of relief. An uncontrollable grin stretched across Landon’s face as he watched Verne’s neurotic behavior. “I call it the Janus Key, you know, because Janus was the—”

  “Thank you, Verne. I believe they’ve got the idea,” Dr. Wells interjected before Verne could continue to ramble on about his own ingenuity. “Team, we’d like you to attach the device to somewhere that the scientists won’t notice—somewhere discrete. What Verne failed to mention was that it will also allow us remote access to their servers by installing an untraceable back door in their system. We’ll be able to monitor their future activities from here and hopefully not get ourselves into such a rushed situation in the future.

  “Echo, the facility is heavily guarded, so we will need your abilities to guide the team through the complex without getting noticed. Apollo, you’ll be there to provide any additional ground support should an issue arise. I know it’s sudden, but welcome to active duty you two.” Dr. Wells looked directly to Landon and Peregrine as he spoke to them and gave each a little nod of acknowledgement before addressing the entire team again. “You will leave at 2200 hours. Good luck.”

  Dr. Wells then turned to the Altar console and pressed a few buttons that caused the hologram to disappear and the glass divider to disengage. Once the barrier had descended back into the floor, Dr. Brighton turned and spoke to his team.

  “All right, everyone, go and eat something, prepare yourself and be at the Stable at 2130 ready for takeoff. Dismissed.”

  • • • • •

  Landon sat alone while he ate his lunch. He hadn’t spoken to a single person since the briefing. He never would admit it, but he was questioning whether he was truly ready for his first mission. With the training and the practice, he knew the day would come, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that in le
ss than twelve hours he’d be leaving the Gymnasium and traveling to a place where he was responsible not only for his life but the well-being of every member on the team. One misstep or error in judgment could mean death. As he fought to swallow a bite of spaghetti, the pressure to succeed weighed on his mind.

  “Landon, everything okay?” Riley asked. He and Landon hadn’t spoken since their blow up in the medical wing, but Riley had been sitting a table over from Landon, and perhaps he could tell something serious was bothering his friend.

  “Hey,” Landon replied meekly as Riley stood in front of him with his empty tray in hand. “I’ll be all right.” Landon then lowered his head and returned to rearranging the pasta on his plate.

  “Well you don’t look all right,” Riley replied matter-of-factly. “And I bet it’s about something you can’t tell me so I’m not even going to ask, but you should know. . . . Whatever it is that you’re freaking out about, I’m sure you’re overreacting. You’ve been here for almost a year now, man. You’ve been training your ass off. You know what you’re doing. You just need to go out there and do it. That simple.”

  Landon looked back up at Riley and smiled. Even though he had no clue what he was talking about, Riley had somehow managed to say exactly what he needed to help calm him down a bit. He had the training. He knew what he was doing. He just needed to have confidence that he could perform when the time came.

  Riley glared at his friend unsurely before saying, “Anyways, I’ve got to meet some people in the Rec Center, but I’ll catch up with you later, all right?”

  “Sure thing,” Landon replied. Riley then turned and headed toward the exit of the cafeteria, but after taking just a few steps down the aisle, Landon called to him. “Riley!”

  Riley rotated his upper body until he could just see Landon still sitting at the table.

  “Thanks,” Landon said.

  Riley gave a slight nod before turning and continuing on his path to the used tray depository. Landon again sat alone in the cafeteria, still with the mission on his mind, but thanks to Riley’s words, he was starting to feel a bit less stressed about the situation. After what could have been three minutes, or thirty, of sitting deep in thought, Landon was startled back into reality when Celia slammed her tray of food down in front of him.

  “What’s going on, bus boy?” she asked playfully as she took her seat across the table from him. “You’re looking a bit cerebral this afternoon.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind,” he replied. “I’m sure you already know what I’m talking about.”

  “Huh?” she asked through a mouthful of pasta. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t already know everything going on in my head.” Celia looked confused. “Our link,” he explained. “I’m sure you’ve already had a full download of everything going on in my brain even though you’ve been here all of two seconds.”

  “Oh, please,” she said between bites. “I told you it doesn’t happen that often anymore. Its has gotten harder.”

  “Harder, ha, so you do try and read my mind on a regular basis,” Landon returned. “Uh, are you late for something?”

  Landon asked because Celia appeared to be woofing down her entire tray of food at an abnormally fast speed. He’d noticed before that Celia ate rather fast for a girl, but this was ridiculous. She seemed to be shoveling bite after bite into her mouth before she’d even swallowed the last. Within minutes, she’d cleaned her plate.

  “Yeah, very late,” she answered through a full mouth.

  “Oh.” Landon started to twist together another bite of his now-cold spaghetti. He knew he needed to eat everything on his tray to make sure he had enough strength for later.

  “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to do your thing. Talk to you later.” Before Landon even could look up from his tray, Celia had risen from the bench and was making her way out of the cafeteria.

  Following lunch, Landon went to the Library and holed himself up in his usual alcove on the fifth floor. He didn’t read anything or peruse the shelves—he wasn’t there for the books.

  He sat in the large, tufted chair with his legs folded underneath him. Centering himself, he replayed every training session he’d had to date in his mind. He needed to remember every lesson, every technique, and every bit of information in order to prepare himself for the task that lay ahead. With every memory, his mind started to relax and before he knew it, he had drifted into a deep sleep. As he slept, a memory slipped into his dreams.

  The night was cold. Darkness crept over the sky with only a faint orange glow from the mid-September sun hanging in the distant horizon. Four-year-old Landon was restless. His mother put him to bed an hour ago but no matter what he tried, he couldn’t go to sleep because he needed to know what happened next in Treasure Island. Mrs. Wicker had started reading it to him two weeks beforehand and continued through that afternoon in the park. Just as they reached the exciting parts with mutiny, treasure maps and pirates, Mrs. Wicker packed up their things to hurry home; she needed to get dinner on the table before Mr. Wicker returned from work. To make matters worse, Landon’s mom didn’t have enough time to read to him before bed. Now all Landon thought about was what happened next to Jim Hawkins and the crew of the Hispaniola. It was killing him.

  He decided to put his pirate bandana on his head and then placed his plastic sword next to him and turned on the reading light beside his bed. Lying on his lap, the book sat open to the page they had last read. Throughout the past hour he tried a number of times to decipher the meaning of the random letters and spaces on the page but garnered no success in figuring anything out. His mom had taught him his ABCs, but he had no idea how they worked to make words. He just stared at the page, hoping the story would flow into his brain. Eventually, he resigned himself to waiting until the next day to find out anything else. He gazed at the fan on his ceiling, watching the blades whirl around and around, hoping to fall asleep.

  All the while, Landon heard the low mumbling of his parents in the living room. They were arguing again, but Landon couldn’t understand anything they were saying. It happened so often that it had almost become a necessary drone for him to fall asleep, like the sound of crashing waves on the beach or of rain as it hits the window pane.

  He didn’t understand what caused the bickering and fighting between his parents. His mother always separated him from it, either putting him in his room when possible, or having him put headphones on and listen to music while he played on the floor. As Landon began to drift off to sleep, his mother burst through the door and his father’s loud voice blasted into the room. She shut the door, and with a faint click, locked it. Her body was pressed against it, her chest heaving as she audibly breathed in and out. Her eyes were shut. Mr. Wicker could still be heard screaming from the living room, and when something heavy crashed into the door, her entire body constricted.

  “Mom?” Landon was now sitting straight up in the bed with his bandana still on and his pirate sword ready in hand. “Mom? You ’kay?”

  Landon’s mother opened her eyes. When she saw Landon sitting there, her tense face relaxed. On occasion she came into his room after she’d put him to bed, but this was the first time he’d ever asked about her with concern. “Oh, Landon, yes, everything is fine,” she said in a mellow tone. She walked over to the bed and sat down beside Landon. Feeling the vibrations of his mother’s shaking body, he looked up at her.

  After a few deep breaths, Mrs. Wicker turned over toward Landon, who still carried his plastic pirate sword at the ready. “Whoa, stand down young, dread pirate Lanny. All’s well on the home front.” As she spoke, she took the sword from Landon and placed it on top of the sheets. “Now, what are you still doing awake my little man? I think I put you to bed at least an hour ago, and here you are as if I hadn’t even tucked you in yet.”

  �
��I can’t sleep.” Landon gave a little shove to the book still sitting on his lap. “I wanna know what happens to Jim and Long John Silver.”

  “Ah, so that’s it,” Mrs. Wicker replied. “We did end right in the middle of everything today, didn’t we? Well, since I barged in on you like this and you are awake, I don’t see any harm in reading a bit more.”

  Landon grabbed the book from his lap and handed it to his mother. She took it and slid under the covers next to him. Feeling the familiar warmth of her body against his, Landon nuzzled right up to her side.

  “Are you sick, momma?” Landon asked. She felt warmer than usual.

  “No, I’m fine, just a little worked up is all. I’ll be right back to normal in no time, especially after we’ve taken a journey on the high seas of the Caribbean.”

  For the next hour Mrs. Wicker read to Landon. He stared at the words in the book, getting lost in the story that Mrs. Wicker read from its pages. As she read, he imagined himself alongside Jim Hawkins, fighting off pirates on the Hispaniola, searching for Captain Flint’s long buried treasure and leaving the mutinous pirates marooned on Treasure Island as he sailed away with Trelawney and his loyal men.

  “Momma,” Landon interrupted his mother mid-sentence. “Why does Jim keep going back to the bad man?”

  Sitting there beside him, his mother leaned forward and closed the book. She softly touched Landon on the cheek. “That’s a great question, honey. Why do you think he goes back to Long John Silver?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because he doesn’t seem all bad, I guess.”