Denver instantly crouched and raised his rifle. A second later: “I see it. Follow me; stay behind.”
She ignored him and stepped out, preferring to advance by his side.
A burst of static noise hissed in Layla’s intercom. She looked across to Denver.
“Probably local interference,” Denver said.
The two of them stepped forward slowly and deliberately, drawing their rifles in wide sweeping arcs as they approached.
Soft grass and dirt sank beneath Layla’s every footstep. Just a few meters away from the miniature mountain range, her foot sank into the ground, collapsing into a hole, bringing a bolt of surprise. Her stomach lurched and her right leg staggered forward in reaction to retain her balance.
She fell to her knee and dropped the rifle to the ground, her hands flinging out ahead of her to prevent her from smacking her visor against the rocky surface. She caught her breath, looked down, and saw that her leg had indeed collapsed through the surface into a kind of burrow.
“A little help,” she asked, looking up at Denver, but his body was alert, crouched, and he continued to stalk forward to the rocks.
Layla grumbled and pulled herself free, retrieving her rifle and catching up with Denver. They stepped between two of the taller, more vertical stones. They were the color of white marble—pure and without defect.
“What is it?” she whispered again, feeling her hands tremble against the stock and handhold of the rifle.
“I… don’t know,” Denver said. He stood now in the middle of the stone formation. They were arranged in a rough circle some ten meters in diameter. Toward the rear of one side, a larger structure stood, encrusted with creeping blue and green vegetation. Around its base, yellow grass resembling straw grew to a meter high, obscuring a plinth of some kind.
“That’s not natural,” Layla said, stalking closer to the object.
“Tredeyan made?” Denver guessed. “It looks ancient.”
While Denver remained alert, his rifle in position sweeping the area, Layla moved closer to the object. Ovoid in shape, it stood at least three meters high and two wide with an ornately carved rim made from some dull black metal.
Using her free hand, Layla moved the tall grass aside to reveal the plinth beneath. Alien symbols were carved with an exact edge. She had no idea what the words meant, but whatever this thing was, it didn’t appear as if anyone had used or visited it in eons.
However, that was a guess on her part. She couldn’t be exactly sure of its heritage as things could age and weather differently here, not to mention the vegetation could grow in an entirely different way. What looked like hundreds of years of wear and tear and decades of moss and other growth could be a year’s worth for all she truly knew.
“I think this is actually a step,” she said, smoothing her hand across the plinth and noticing how it led to the large oval atop it. It reminded her a little of a large mirror she had growing up. If you’d removed the glass, it would look similar to this structure, albeit smaller.
Remembering that brought to mind the idea that perhaps this was designed for people to walk up to, and then walk through. Perhaps it was some kind of religious ritual? It’d make sense given it was only about fifty strides from the temple.
“I don’t see the light,” Denver said. “Probably just a weird reflection. We ought to get back.”
“You’re probably right, but one second, just let me look what’s behind this, I want to see if there’s another step to back up a theory of what it is.”
Layla stood up from her crouch and stepped to the side of the structure but soon fell back as a scion prism came floating up out of the tall grass to hover just an arm’s length away from her face.
Layla screamed, staggered back, and her suit clanked against a rough stone.
The floating black prism, the size of a football, hovered above her and spun on its axis. The top half rose from the rest of it by a centimeter, exposing a glowing blue strip.
“Denver!” Layla shouted as the strip began to hum and vibrate.
A green laser dot danced across her chest until it rested over her heart. She screamed again and closed her eyes, bracing herself against the plasma blast that was about to follow.
Chapter 11
THE SOUNDS of gunfire within Freetown finally came to an end, birthing a still silence that made Augustus smile behind his mask.
He hoped taking Unity would be as routine, though knew that under Aimee’s command, they would at least put up more of a fight instead of surrendering like submissive dogs.
The idea of coming to Freetown turned out to be a good decision.
They’d recruited more troops, gathered root, medical supplies, and even weapons from a ramshackle workshop that Augustus knew belonged to the creator of the bomb that downed the croatoan mother ship: Charlie’s old associate, Mike.
In the cool room of Layla’s old office, Augustus leaned forward on the desk, looking across the white-walled space to Maria, who sat on a leather sofa. She tried to look calm, collected, her legs crossed and her arms folded in her lap.
The tremble in her shoulders told Augustus everything he needed to know: she was scared of him. Good.
“So… what now?” Maria asked, darting her eyes first to Augustus, then away to some mysterious other point within the room.
Augustus waited to respond, enjoying her discomfort. He glanced around and tried to imagine Layla working in here. It had her hallmarks all over it; bland, empty space, with a singular purpose: study. No character or flair.
That was the problem with the sciences, he thought—too objective, too analytical. He’d never met a scientist he liked. Not to say that religious types were much better with their equally dull-witted outlook on life and their hokey faith.
Augustus viewed himself as completely impartial to life and its theories. Whatever was the truth was none of his business. All he knew was that while he still breathed, there were places to conquer, people to mold to his whims.
What was life if not but a grand game?
He asked that of Maria, making her jump with the sudden, unexpected question. She looked down at her hands and picked at the fabric stretched over her knees.
“I… don’t know,” she said, dropping her head.
“No, you wouldn’t, would you, having been created for a purpose that you now have no reason to fulfill. You must spend a lot of time wondering why?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Maria said, raising her chin and looking Augustus squarely in the eye, daring to challenge him. Perhaps this one had hope yet.
“No. I don’t. I’ve never asked myself why. I’ve always asked myself, why not?” Augustus stood and stretched his legs. He was getting tired and needed time to himself to enjoy one of his root cigars, but he wasn’t done here yet. He stepped forward, standing over Maria, letting his shadow devour her.
“I can give you the purpose you crave,” he said, holding out his hand.
Maria hesitated, but eventually held out her hand and took his. He decided against making a show of his domination over her with a tight grip—he’d already established that. Instead, he caressed her soft, warm hand, comforting her.
Lowering the register of his voice and giving her his best practiced sincere face, he said, “There is no reason why in this life. There is no guidebook, no direction. We live in chaos and have to embrace it. What I’m offering you is a safe zone where you can just be, without wondering why. You can just act and enjoy the grand game, knowing that nothing we do matters to the universe. We make it matter to us. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Tears glistened in Maria’s wide eyes. Her nostrils flared and she visibly shook. He continued to hold her hand and rubbed the back of it with his other, encapsulating hers in his completely.