“This is the control room underneath the city, where we monitor everything,” explained Orthon like some kind of cosmic tour guide. When the glass sidewalk came to a sudden halt, Orthon unlatched the gate.
Jumping off, Casey scanned the humongous room. Bright light flooded the large space. As she glanced up at the ceiling, she saw no florescent fixtures and not even one light bulb, and she had to wonder if they were somehow witnessing the future of electricity. The walls and ceiling glistened like millions of crushed diamonds. Beyond two high pillars stretched the Command Center Orthon had mentioned, bustling with personnel, blinking panels, consoles, maps, and charts. In the middle, a contingent of people watched a giant screen—big as a billboard—on the far left wall. It changed images continually, displaying positions of the space ships above the city. As soon as someone pointed toward the visitors, the murmur died and heads started to turn.
Turning, she noticed the blonde woman to her right smiling hesitantly. The soldiers standing behind her, dressed in blue, military-style uniforms, didn’t seem quite as welcoming. One said something in a language Casey didn’t recognize, and the others nodded, a frown forming between their brows. It wasn’t at all the warm greeting she expected. Taking several breaths to calm her racing heart, she fixed her gaze on Orthon, who signaled one of the soldiers over.
“This has to be the mother of all control rooms,” said Mike, his voice filled with awe.
“Did you happen to notice something other than the gadgets and other cool stuff?” she whispered.
“Yeah. The people here are almost as cute as I am…but not quite,” he whispered back.
A tall man walked toward them. “Wing su ti te ellmo ekdour,” he said and held up a long syringe filled with a blue liquid. He tapped it a few times.
“Oh man. What’s Dr. Evil planning to do with that?” She grabbed Mike’s arm. Many scenarios had played out in her head, but she hadn’t even considered this one. She had come face to face with the stuff of nightmares and lived to tell the tale. She had even taken on a T-rex and its wild pack, only to be experimented on by an evil mad scientist with crazy white hair in a secret lab. Every old Frankenstein movie she’d ever seen flashed across her mind, and she wondered if she was going to find herself strapped down to a table, with batteries plugged into her head.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she shot Mike a glance. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the huge needle that he probably thought resembled a tranquilizer for the average elephant. Casey could tell by the look on his face that if she expected any support from him, she was badly mistaken. More than likely, he’d be the one needing a cuddle and someone holding his hand.
“What’s going on?” Mike demanded.
Casey’s mind raced as she stared at the syringe. “That needle’s big enough to put a horse to sleep.”
Orthon quirked an eyebrow at the approaching soldier. “Henter so do aly tu si almot?”
“Te si umghe tumre sodo las tie que,” said the man.
She wanted to tell them to speak English so she at least knew what she was in for and what that awful needle was for. Casey desperately tugged on Orthon’s sleeve, her fear mounting. “Orthon, don’t let him hurt us!”
Orthon reached for the needle and spun toward her. His face was expressionless, his manner calm. Gripping her shoulder, he said, “These orders come straight from General Ashtar. I’m sorry, but this might hurt a little.”
A horrified gasp broke from Mike. “Get away from us, or you’ll regret it.”
Confusion and shock overwhelmed Casey. She did not expect Orthon, who had gotten them out of danger so many times and led them there, to betray them in the end. “You’re just a backstabber!” She flung his arm off and took a long step backward, her voice trembling. “No frigging way are you sticking me with that thing.” Every cell in her body screamed for her to run, but she didn’t know where she could run to. Her eyes darted all over the room, searching for an exit or some way to escape, but it seemed as if they were trapped.
“I thought you wanted us on your side!” yelled Mike, balling his hands into fists. “We never should’ve trusted you.”
If he decided to strike that needle out of Orthon’s hands, Casey wasn’t about to be in the way. In fact, she’d help him in any way she could. Her palms grew clammy, and her heart raced faster.
Orthon took another step forward, and he had backup in the form of five brawny-looking soldiers standing behind him.
Chapter 2
A yelp escaped Casey’s mouth; there was no way that long needle was going to pierce her skin without a fight. Somewhere behind her, Mike muttered something under his breath and grabbed her shoulders. She dared a peek before she returned her focus back to the syringe.
“You will feel only a small pinch,” said Orthon. “I promise.”
Casey knew all too well that anyone with a needle pointed at you always says that, whether it is a nurse, a doctor, or some mad scientist. She just couldn’t believe the man they’d trusted and followed all that time turned out to be one of them. “You first,” she said, meeting Orthon’s gaze head on. “Or, even better, why don’t you go wave that thing in someone else’s face . . . preferably far away!”
The soldiers behind Orthon scowled at her, and Orthon took another step forward. She thought if she got close enough, maybe she could kick it out of his hand with a Muay Thai kick, like the one she’d been teaching Mike earlier in the week. She wasn’t Bruce Lee and couldn’t take on an entire roomful of probably-aliens with her bare hands and a hairpin, but she thought she might be able to distract them for a second or two.
Shrugging, Orthon lowered the syringe, and she had to wonder if she had developed some kind of mental telepathy. If they really could read the thoughts of what she wanted to do to them, they’d be cowering on the ground in no time, fear bathing them in sweat.
“It is nothing but a communicator chip.” Orthon shifted his stance, the needle securely in his hands. “You will be able to understand any language from any world, and they will be able to understand you.”
Casey shook her head vehemently. A communicator chip? To understand their language? Yeah, right. What a lame excuse. She’d seen the movies and read the books. She knew they probably had some weird medical procedures in store, like taking out her brain and storing it in a large glass jar.
“Nah, I’m good,” said Mike. “I’d rather get a cute girl to translate while I pretend I have to stare at her glossy lips to understand her weird pronunciation.”
He didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Dating or not, Mike sucked when it came to making Casey feel like she was the only girl in his life. “I guess, what our skirt-chasing friend here is trying to say, is that we don’t trust you—not a single word that comes out of your mouth.”
The lines in Orthon’s face softened, and compassion flickered in his blue eyes. “You will have to trust me.”
How naïve does he think we are? “No way! Just hand us a phone, post pigeons, or whatever you use for communicating with the outside world, and we’ll be on our merry way.”
“Not possible. You know I would help you if I could, but all of our communications have been shut down.” His voice remained calm and reassuring, as though he was trying to regain their trust.
“Even the post pigeons?” Mike huffed. “Boy, that sucks.”
Orthon knew Casey wanted to make a phone call, and he’d lured them to Agartha on false pretenses. Even though he hadn’t promised them a phone, per se, he had failed to mention there was none. Casey realized it was her fault for not making a connection, so to speak, when he told her their communication was down, but he could have at least told her everything was down. Yet again, she felt betrayed.
Orthon took a step closer when she held up a hand to stall him. “Who says you call all the shots? I want to speak to this general of yours . . . and where do you plan on sticking that needle anyway?” She covered her buttock with her hands.
He rolled his eyes, and a t
iny smirk formed on his lips. “Not where you are thinking. The procedure’s simple. I inject the chip into your carotid artery, and it will feel no worse than a bee sting. I assure you it is completely safe.”
Her mouth dropped. “Are you serious?”
Orthon’s gaze narrowed. “Time is running out, for both us and your kidnapped friend.”
She glared at him, angry. Of all the cards in his stacked deck, he didn’t have to play the Jack. “Stay back! I’m warning you.” Casey prepared herself mentally for whatever might come next. Her jaw clenched as her eyes focused on the syringe. Again, every karate move she’d ever learned whirled in her mind. Orthon had heard them refuse, but he would not listen. She didn’t really care to understand their language anyway, since she planned to be gone within a few hours. There was no need to endure a vampire bite from that nasty-looking needle. Besides, for all Casey knew, he could have been tricking them again. She shifted her stance and glared at the traitor. “You know English. Why can’t you be our translator? It’s not like we’ll be staying here for long.”
“That’s what I’m screamin’,” agreed Mike.
Orthon waved an impatient hand about, and two of the soldiers behind him stepped closer. He reached forward as if he was going to touch her arm, but he hesitated when he saw the grim look on her face. Holding out his palm he said, “It is okay to be scared, but our general has a plan to get Jack back, and you are part of it. A translator coming along is out of the question. You are doing this for Jack . . . to save his life.”
“What? This is for Jack?” She peered at him intently, trying to catch in any hesitation or gesture that might give away his lie. When he just nodded and nothing stirred, she felt a wave of relief flooding through her. She wondered, though, why he just hadn’t told them that in the first place. As much as she wanted to consider the communication chip, she couldn’t switch off the nagging voice at the back of her head telling her to be more careful and less trusting. “I don’t know. I still don’t see the point.”
Orthon waved the syringe in his hand. “Without this chip, you will never get close to Jack. Just how bad do you want to see him?”
Boy, he knew what strings to pull. A memory of Jack flashed through her mind, the sudden guilt choking her. Once, on a hike, Casey had broken her ankle. Jack had carried her back home for three long miles without a single complaint, like a true friend. She averted her gaze and remembered Jack’s blue eyes and gleaming smile before her, his soft fingers brushing over her arm, his sweet voice comforting her through the pain.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, then opened them, more determined than ever before. She’d do anything to see him again. The silver needle glimmered in the glaring brightness, seeming just as scary as before. Pulling her hair back, she pointed to her neck. “Do it.” Somewhere inside her mind, a voice screamed, asking her if she was crazy. Maybe the heat had gone to her brain, but she couldn’t chicken out; Jack never had on her.
Mike gripped her arms and pulled her close. “No way! Why would you pull a crazy stunt like this?”
She glared. “Like you have room to talk. I’m doing it for Jack, which should be your priority too.”
He let out a breath. “Do you have any idea what could be in that thing? We can’t trust these guys. You said so yourself.”
“I don’t care!” she shouted. “Listen to yourself, Mike. Your best friend needs help, and all you can do is stand there thinking of yourself.” She turned to Orthon. “Please do it before I change my mind.”
Orthon flicked the syringe with his forefinger and stepped forward, a frown perched between his brows. She held her breath as the needle connected with her skin, piercing the thin flesh on her neck. Her heart beat faster, prepared for the oncoming pain. It felt like she’d been injected with a stream of ice water: too cold, too unnatural. She grimaced, trying to not scream as she forced her legs to stay in place. A burning sensation crept through her body.
“You are done,” said Orthon handing the needle to a nearby soldier. “Mike?”
Casey had to wonder if she’d just made a huge mistake. She inhaled deeply, hoping there was no poison coursing through her veins. In the blink of an eye, the burning sensation dissipated, and she raised her palm to touch the puncture.
Orthon smiled.
“I’m alive.” Casey let out a sigh of relief, then laughed, peering over her shoulder at Mike’s pale face. She bet if she egged him on, he’d do it. “Maybe Orthon could offer you some Novocain? Perhaps some general anesthesia?”
“What? Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I’m tough as nails.” He tilted his head to one side. “I just pray to God, Casey, that you know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve no idea what I just did, but I hope it was the right choice.”
Mike shook his head. “You know that’s the wrong answer, right?”
She gently touched his hand. “Admit it, Mr. Big Stuff. You’re just scared.”
“No way!” His voice went up a notch. “I’m just trying to stay sane here. There’s no point in both of us being reckless. Hey, wait . . . shouldn’t I be the one taking the shot and you lecturing me? Oh no. I think I’ve turned into Jack.”
He was so bluffing, and she could smell it from a mile. Deep inside, she knew Mike felt the same way but just needed a bit of a nudge in the right direction. Even though she didn’t know whether she’d be suffering any side effects, she didn’t regret her choice. If something happened to Jack—she took the biggest breath ever—she couldn’t live with herself.
A soldier brought over a second needle and handed it to Orthon. Orthon stepped toward Mike, slowly pushing down on the plunger as he pierced Mike’s skin. From where she stood, Casey noticed the tiny silver microchip floating in the blue liquid before it disappeared through the needle.
The same soldier quickly grabbed the used syringe from Orthon and walked away.
Mike staggered, holding his neck. “It feels like ice . . . wait . . . no, fire! Holy crap, this stuff burns!”
“Don’t be such a wus!” said Casey. “Besides, it stops hurting pretty quick.”
“If you say so. Haven’t they ever heard of common hospitality around here? Most people greet their guests with pies and cookies or maybe something to drink, not needles.”
A tall woman with a long blonde braid dangling over one shoulder motioned them to follow. Casey wanted more than anything to know where she was and what their intentions were. “Let’s go get some answers,” she said.
Taking the lead—as he was so good at doing—Mike marched forward, smiling like he was riding on a float in a parade. Casey was sure he’d start waving any minute.
The woman motioned to a white pillar. “Please wait here.” She touched their shoulders. “I know…tiny bit…English. Welcome to city.” She turned and walked away.
Agarthians from across the control room began to glance in their direction, with curious looks on their faces. Of course, Mike had to address them. “Hello, hello!” he called out. “My name’s Mike, and this is my friend Casey. Thank you for allowing us into your fabulous city.” He talked to them like five-year-olds or as if they were deaf; and they were neither.
She nudged him in the ribs. “They can hear you, you know. They just don’t speak our language.” She shook her head and pushed him forward, noticing how quiet the room suddenly seemed. She could’ve heard a hair dropping to the floor.
Mike had everyone’s attention, whether he wanted it or not. A room full of people stared at them like they were some three-headed cow at a carnival show. She swallowed hard, glancing from one open mouth to the other. “They’re gawking at me,” Casey whispered, “I stick out like a sore thumb. Everybody here is melanin challenged.”
“What?”
“They’re blond, Mike—all of them. And they’re gorgeous. I’m as rare as a two-horned unicorn. Heck, they’d probably be less shocked if I was one of those.”
“Maybe they’re staring because they recognize me from TV. I
better get out my pen, because it’s going to be a madhouse once word gets out that I’m here. Remember what happened on the beach in Fiji?”
She remembered all right: tons of screaming girls, mostly American tourists, all over him like he was some big-time rock star. Heck, she couldn’t even escape the fan club in Fiji. “I doubt they’re staring because they want your autograph,” she said. Only Mike could think a highly developed civilization with such high-tech equipment would halt in their busy observations because of his semi-famous name. He wasn’t a household name yet, but ask any teenager who happened to watch MTV or any surfing fan and Mike’s name earned instant recognition. As far as Casey could tell, there were no surf shops or beaches around, and everyone seemed to have more important things on their minds. Mike might have been keen on the attention, but she preferred to remain anonymous, to blend in. Lowering her gaze, she grasped Mike’s hand, giving it a nervous squeeze.
“They’re probably going to jump out and pour a bucket of bleach over your head,” said Mike. “Don’t worry. I’m blond, so I can safely say you won’t automatically lose 100 IQ points.”
A soft chatter resumed. Even though Casey couldn’t understand a word, the warm smiles spoke for themselves: The people there weren’t going to hurt them. She wondered, though, when the communicator chip was going to kick in—unless it wasn’t really a chip for communication. She swallowed. Oh crap! What did I get myself into? But if they are really so evil, why are they smiling?
A military official with gold-braided epaulets on his shoulders stepped forward and called out. The three overlapping circles on his chest were gold, much larger than the others. On top of that, the three gold stripes on his left sleeve made her believe he was in charge.
Orthon approached him and started to talk in that strange guttural language of his. The other guy kept running a hand through his blond hair that fell in waves past the collar of his uniform, shaking his head every now and then. Orthon paused, throwing Casey a meaningful look, then continued in a softer tone.
Endure: Book 5 in The Trapped In The Hollow Earth Novelette Series Page 2
