The Cydonia Objective

out, and a snarling face turned to a mask of rage. The AK-47 was thrust into his face. A boot against his neck. “Where is she?”

Greenmeyer gagged. Smoke stung at his eyes. “Gone. Rescued…”

The boot rose—then fell, smashing against the side of his face. The room dimmed and he thought he heard a choking sound. Stay awake… buy her time… “Can’t… you see…?”

Another snarl. “Her damn shield’s on you fool. I will find her. And then I’ll haul her back by her hair and make her watch as I skin you alive, then burn your limbs off one by one. The agony you caused my men is nothing compared to what you’ll face.”

“Quit talking then.” Greenmeyer forced a smile. “Get to it, or else my little girl will outrun you.”

The Eye kicked him in the ribs, and then again in the side of his head, before he ran back out. The room dimmed and as unconsciousness swirled around him, Greenmeyer relaxed and gave in, confident that The Eye had taken the bait.

#

Orlando had a small head start, but he knew it wouldn’t last. The light from the burning corpses was fading, and the flashlight strapped to his head had cracked. Its weak bulb struggled to light a few feet ahead, like the glow from a cell phone screen. So he paused, closed his eyes and tried to RV the way.

Crashing footsteps behind him. A curse, and a shout.

Damn it! He had seen a tiny glimpse—a greenish-hued, fast-motion exodus of his mind’s eye through the caverns ahead: straight, then right, then left and-

He was off, running. Trusting his vision.

A light at his back. The Eye rushing after him like a crazed rhinoceros. Orlando raced ahead, started to turn right but jarred into the edge of the cave wall. Grunted, spun, then found the opening and sped up through it. Skidded to a halt. His wrists burned, his shoulders were in agony and he just wished he had time to try that maneuver he saw in the movies where handcuffed heroes were somehow able to step back through their bound arms and at least bring their wrists up front so they could use their hands.

But he kept running in the dark. Bouncing off the walls, jarring his head on a low-hanging section at one point. Stars pinwheeled in his vision, but he kept moving. Skidded to a stop, backed up and took the turn he missed.

Rushing right at him—a bobbing flashlight in the hands of his pursuer. The lone eye locked on him, full of rage. Orlando sped up, attacking the darkness with abandon. Still trusting his vision. Trusting that-

Whoa! He jumped, leapt as far as he could, suddenly recalling that near- instantaneous out of body trek through this section, and seeing now that there was a mine, showing up bright red in his vision. A circular mine set in the center of the passage, about a foot and a half wide. A pressure-sensitive trigger plate.

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 Aria made 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.”