MBryO: The Escape (15 page)

Nameless had disappointed his father with his extreme anger and constant snarling. Maxim had planned to euthanize him after one final extraction, scheduled for early that very morning. That was why he had pleaded with the pale boy to unlock his cage and set him free.

Inhaling deeply, it was all Nameless could do to keep from howling his joy at being free. He would just have to get used to scavenging dinner for himself, from now own.

Sighing hungrily, he searched for the last remnants of the sun’s heat to be found on the rocky surface. He found the most comfortable spot he could, and folded his rangy legs beneath him.

Nameless tucked his sensitive nose inside the warmth of one glossy black wing and gave a disgusted ‘sniff’ at his circumstances. Sighing in resignation, he settled in for what he knew would be a miserably cold night.

In the wee hours of the morning, the tip of a long nose edged inside the branches covering the ledge. Pax came instantly awake, drawn from his deep sleep by the psy-talent of the winged wolf-like creature. He rose up on his elbow, sensing no immediate danger from the winged intruder.

Melara slept deeply under the blanket beside him, her body clinging to his for warmth. The desert temperature had plunged well below freezing. The remnants of their fire smoldered from the makeshift fire pit a few yards away. The flickering flames cast warm shadows upon the cold rock walls.

The wolf paused just inside the ledge, his long black shadow rising high on the wall behind him. His wary black eyes met those of the male, seeking permission to join the two humanoids beside the warmth of the fire.

Pax deliberately lay back down beside Melara, closing his eyes.

Nameless took the male’s docile reaction as permission to enter the cave. He ambled close to the flickering camp fire and lay down on the warm floor. The nighttime desert breeze had grown too cold for him to remain outside on the unprotected overhang. The cold had seeped into his bones and joints, causing him to stiffen. He had been forced to seek shelter inside the ledge, or risk freezing to death.

Curling his nose into the downy softness of his ebony black wing, he succumbed to the warmth of the fire and the arms of sleep.

Deep within the center of the matrix of the barrio, Mimosa de Hoyas the aged matriarch, of the people known as the Barriosi, surfaced from her trance. The compelling psy-state had overtaken her hours earlier, when she had felt the first cautious tendrils of psy-talent probe the barriers of her mind. The probes had come from a sentient being, who was even now taking refuge from the desert’s cold inside a makeshift cavern.

Mimosa moved away from her position at the rear window of her hacienda. No one seeing her there would suspect anything was awry, as it was her habit to check the locks several times during the night. None of her sons or grandsons would dare cross the portals of her home without an invitation. She had not remained in power by being careless. She checked and double checked the locks periodically through the night. And, she kept the pocket-sized, but deadly, pistello-blaster within her cavernous apron pocket by day and under her pillow at night.

She was the last descendant of the original Barriosi. Her ancestors had foolishly allied themselves with the Xenaclon Warriors. All because the big cloned army had been psy-talented and the humans had not.

Mimosa shook her swarthy head, sadly. So much bloodshed! So many lives lost!

Mimosa gave herself a rueful shake. She was allowing herself to dwell upon the past too much of late. She needed to pull herself together.

She paused beside the fireplace and added another log to the slumbering embers. When the flames licked the outside of the dried wood, she lifted her gnarled hands to their welcome warmth. Her eyes traveled to the various picture frames decorating the stone mantle.

She took the time to examine the familiar features of her parents, moving on to the laughing faces of her two younger brothers, all of them lost during the war. She looked at the faces of her own sons and daughters.

She’d had many husbands through the years, but all of her children had inherited her dark Barriosi coloring. As had her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, save one!

Her black eyes sought one of the more ornate gilt frames toward the back of the mantle.

Maximillian had been different than all the other children. His blond coloring had stood out among the darkness of the barrio, a mutated throwback to some illegitimate Xenaclon-Barriosi mixture. And his psy-talent had showed enormous promise of outshining her own, even then.

He had used his keen intelligence to pull the wool over everyone else’s eyes. But, he had not fooled Mimosa.

Even as a child, she had recognized Maximillian for what he was. Pure evil!

She remembered the day Maximillian had left the barrio. He had been a teenager, young and cunning as a fox. He had discovered the secret that had been entrusted to her as the only remaining descendant of the Barriosi.

He had discovered the gate!

Only she knew that in the center of the barrio, directly underneath her hacienda was the door to a secret tunnel leading to the outside. She had noticed Maximillian skulking around more and more that summer. She knew he was up to something, but she hadn’t dared using her psy-talent to probe his mind. He was too strong, often trying to ease inside the walls of her own thoughts. She had made sure to keep her barriers up that summer.

But somehow he had discovered the truth. She still remembered his mocking laughter as pushed his way through the front door, threw her to the floor and marched to the kitchen, aiming for the cellar door.

Mimosa’s head had been reeling, but she managed to get to her feet and tear through the house after him. Running down the cellar steps she had arrived just in time to meet his triumphant gaze above the wooden door leading to the tunnel.

“No, Maximillian! You mustn’t leave the Barriosi! It will break the truce!” she had called urgently.

“I am truly sorry, Abuela!” Maximillian had said softly and insincerely.

“But you are a foolish old woman if you think I care about some Zander-forsaken truce! The humans are fools if they think they can keep us locked up indefinitely. I intend to take advantage of their stupidity. I will create an army of my own. It will be an army of the strongest Xenaclon and Barriosi warriors. Then I will find a way to take back what rightfully belongs to the Barriosi!”

And with that, Maximillian descended into the yawning black hole in the ground.

Mimosa knew inside her soul that something cataclysmic had happened on the outside. Her psy-talent told her that all was not right with the universe. Sentience long held in check, had escaped from the building known as MBryO UNIX.

Maximillian was beyond angry, he was furious! His evil was unleashed.

She had intercepted more than one of his ruthless psy-talented probes in the last two days. To keep those probes at bay, she had her mental defenses well in place. The probes coming from her grandson had bounced off the barriers she had erected around her thoughts, but the cautious tap from the creature in the desert had grabbed her attention by its very subtleness.

She had followed those cautious, yet cunning feelers back to their source. She had found the creature that guarded the humans on the ledge very interesting. It was descended from Barriosi DNA…and yet it was not Barriosi, at all!

Strange!

Taking one last look at the picture of Maximillian, Mimosa turned from the fireplace and made her way to her bed. Her strength waned more and more these days. Her busy mind would not sleep, but she would allow her ancient body to lie down and rest, a couple of hours at the most.

The guard would change just before dawn. And while they were busy with their daily regime, she would make one of her rare journeys through the tunnel to the desert that lay to the west of the Barriosi.

Her sons and grandsons thought she was too old to read their thoughts anymore. But they were wrong. If anything, she was stronger than ever, the Myconeum that lay in her chamber upstairs and the length of her years only added to her psy-talent.

She sensed their discontent. They were a seething powder keg about to blow. She knew that they were about to reach the point of no return.

The younger ones were meeting secretly, plotting to leave the Barriosi. They saw the DOD as the enemy; the Terran Guard their oppressors.

They were tired of reaping the judgment doled out to their ancestors, punished for a war they had taken no part in. They wanted to leave the confines of the overcrowded Barriosi once and for all.

With a wisdom that could only come with age, Mimosa knew the Barriosi were about to get their wish.

Evil darkened the horizon.

War was coming! But not from those who guarded the fence outside. Instead, it was coming from within the Barriosi itself!

“Arise, my children! We must make haste if we are to avoid the scout bots Maximillian has sent to uncover your whereabouts. They are even now searching the desert, not too many miles from here!”

The words echoed loudly in the small confines of the ledge. Pax and Melara shot upright, their limbs tangled in the silver confines of the heat reflecting blanket.

“Who in Zander-tar-pits are you?” Melara demanded, scrambling to her feet.

Her icy blue eyes examined the shriveled up old crone, bent over the campfire, pushing the embers apart with a long branch to extinguish their smoldering flame.

A muffled growl, that sounded just as loud, had her swinging her head to the far side of the ledge where a sleek black wolf-like mutant was in the process of lumbering to his feet. He looked, as extremely put-out as Melara felt, at being surprised by the wrinkled old woman.

“And how in blazes did that thing get in here?” she asked to no one in particular.

“That “thing” helped us escape through the forest the night we left MBryO,” Pax told her matter-of-factly. He shuffled unhurriedly to his feet, grunting at the mild dizziness that tilted his vision. “He’s been traveling alongside us ever since. As to who this is,” he nodded toward their elderly visitor, “I have no idea.”

Mimosa sensed that the mutant wolf had been the owner of the gentle mind probe the night before. “We can make our introductions later. Right now we need to get as far away from here as possible. You must follow me, you ungrateful Barriosi riff-raff. Every minute we dally brings the scout pods closer.”

Nameless ambled through the opening in the branches and sniffed the wind. His psy-feelers traveled through the desert where the female wolf lay trembling in the hollowed out den.

He sensed she was shivering more than just the temperature.

Fear! She was frozen with fear!

Nameless looked back at the humanoids inside the ledge. They were packing up, ready to leave the sanctuary of the shelter.

He felt the morning breeze tickling his wings. He gave in to the need to test his freedom and soar. Spreading his wings, he lunged into the open sky.

“Where did he go?” Melara wondered aloud, following the graceful arc of the ebony wings soaring across the sky.

Pax got a strange look on his face. He felt the extreme joy rippling through the soul of the winged creature high above them.

“He’ll catch up!” Pax assured her. “He’s going to look over our back trail.”

“This way,” the old crone, whose name was Mimosa, indicated a barely discernible path through the rocks. “We must hurry! The scout bots are coming closer.”

There was very little talking as they navigated the hillside.

Pax kept a wary eye on Mimosa’s bent form. Despite her age, Mimosa was as nimble as a goat. She picked her way through the rocks with an unerring sense of direction. Pax brought up the rear of their small entourage, his psy-talent scanning their surroundings in all directions.

Mimosa possessed a superior psy-talent. He couldn’t breach the walls she had erected around her senses. He didn’t know where she was taking them, but he did know she was frightened. He sensed it in the tilt of her raven colored head and the cautious way she stepped out of the rocks.

His psy-feelers scoured the desert, assessing any possible threats.

He found the scout bots a couple of miles beyond the hills to the north. He probed the flying metal orbs, searching for signs of sentience, and finding none. The bots were essentially flying cameras equipped with flickering red and blue laser lights streaming from the bottom. There were half at least a dozen of them, spread out across the desert, covering the cactus strewn ground in record time, and burning anything that moved to a crisp.

Pax’s psy-talent whirled to the winged mutant circling above them. The winged-wolf was, “Nameless”.

Nameless was truly one of a kind, there were no others like him. Pax knew that Nameless felt alone and insignificant by those around him.

Pax remembered all his years alone on Nyla 6. He understood, as no one else could, the loneliness that Nameless felt. He and the winged-wolf were connected on a primal level somehow. They were both the only one of their kind, both alone. Pax didn’t understand the connection exactly. He just accepted it.

Pax knew the wolf’s attention was divided between the scout bots and something that was hiding in a hollow located half-way between the flying weapons and the foothills. Pax’s psy-talent probed the hollow, detecting sentient life.

The she-wolf was half-starved, weak, and facing certain death. As frail as she was, she could not outrun the lethal scout bots.

“Run,” Pax psy-whispered to the she-wolf, knowing it was futile.

From the corner of his eye, Pax noticed Mimosa pausing in the rocks, bumping into Melara who was right behind her. He knew the old woman had heard his psy-whisper and halted to see who he was talking to.

Her swarthy face hardened when she saw how close the scout bots were.

As Pax watched, the she-wolf emerged from the hollow. Her fur was straggly and dull, trembling in fear at the sight of the flying metal saucers. The scout bots were all but upon her now, but instead of running she seemed to be frozen to the spot.

Then, Nameless, who had been soaring in the clouds above, suddenly swooped down in front of the helpless beast, his feet landing nimbly in the desert sand, the tips of his beautiful black wings extended wide. Soundlessly, the wolf tucked his wings and knelt down before the sickly female.

“On my back, you must get,” he told her.

The she-wolf backed away from the big mutant, cautiously examining the intent in the dark eyes of her rescuer.

“Come, there is no time to be afraid!” Nameless called, reassuringly. “We must go now, or it will be too late!”

With a frightened look at the scout bots, the she wolf climbed aboard the wolf’s sleek back. Her thin forelegs draped down in front of the hump where the strange, feathery wings joined to his side, her back legs clutching his heaving sides.

Nameless spread his ebony wings and gathered his strength in an effort to compensate for the extra weight, then lunged skyward. His back feet sprayed dirt into the air, as he struggled to get a foothold in the loose sand.

Pax held his breath until the duo lumbered into the air, only seconds ahead of the dangerous scout bots.

Wings extended wide, gleaming in the early morning light, Nameless flew across the desert to the foothills. Tilting his head, he sniffed the air, locating the trio of humanoids, waiting in the shelter of the rocky hills.

Teetering on his back legs and scattering gravel, he landed a few feet from them.

It wasn’t a pretty landing, the gray wolf slewed sideways, falling heavily to the rocks. The she-wolf tumbled from his back, then with instincts as old as time, she scrambled to her feet, shaking the dust from her thin body.

With a disdainful sniff, Mimosa looked at the scraggly animal, the almost-defiance in the winged wolf’s eyes, and then turned her back to them. “Come, we are almost there.”

Despite her age, the old woman navigated the path with sure feet. She led them down a barely discernible trail that circled around the hill. The rocks grew bigger, some as tall as Pax himself.

Pax kept an eye on the scout bots which had slowed down at the bottom of the foothills. It was taking them much loner to scan every rock and ledge on their way up the hillside. Every once in a while, Pax saw the red and blue lasers scorch a bug, lizard or small animal that was frightened into leaving their dens. He wondered what the scout bots would do to humans.

And then the metal canisters found the ledge where they had spent the night. The bobbing and weaving scout bots lined up just outside the woven stick barrier Melara had put across the opening. Their swirling cameras documented the entire sight, flashing with every shot they took.

And then, a blue laser light emitted from each flying saucer shaped weapon, hitting the barricade simultaneously. The blast disintegrated everything on the ledge, causing an avalanche of falling rock and debris.

At the sound, Mimosa paused only briefly to look at the carnage, before she moved on. She guided them to a huge boulder on the side of the hill. Gesturing for them to follow her, she disappeared around behind it.

On the other side of the boulder was a manhole, covered with a heavy iron lid. If the manhole had been on a city street, perhaps it wouldn’t have engendered a second look. But out here on the edge of the desert, and built into the side of a hill, it was definitely out of the ordinary.

Mimosa opened the heavy lid, revealing an iron staircase leading downward. Wasting no time, for the scout bots had abandoned the destroyed ledge and were fast on their trail, she climbed inside.

Pax and Melara looked questioningly at each other across the dark hole. They, too, heard the sound of the scout bots zapping some poor desert creature nearby. The metal canisters would be upon them within minutes.

Truthfully, Pax admitted, they were out of options. They had no choice but to trust the swarthy old crone.

Shrugging, he gestured for the others to climb in ahead of him.

When they were all inside, he descended into the yawning darkness, pulling the heavy iron lid into place behind him.

The scout bots rounded the boulder, their cameras flashing. Detecting no sentient life, they zoomed on down the hillside, stopping only to zap any hapless creature that got in their way.

The scout bots were remote controlled from the computer room back at MBryO UNIX, each camera monitored by DOD security personnel. A large divided computer screen filled the entire front wall, projecting a different view of the desert. Dozens of pictures flickered across the wall.

The room was dimly lit, creating a menacing atmosphere, only enhanced by the looming figure of Maxim Bryant. Word had spread among his employees of how he had stridden across the rooftop, blue fire flying from his fingertips. With his flowing diamond studded gown and flowing white man of hair, some said he had resembled an avenging angel up there in the moonlight.

A few surreptitious glances fell his way, but no one wanted to be caught looking directly at the Maxim. It could be hazardous to a person’s health if they found themselves the receiving end of the man’s extraordinary psy-talent. Killing power like that should be locked up!

Maxim was standing beside his newly appointed DOD watchdog, Reginald Stout.

Stout was the antithesis of his name, being lean of frame and on eye level with Maxim’s six-feet-two height. The man’s face reflected the wariness of the other DOD officials in the room. No one risked catching his eye, preferring not to attract the man’s attention, for fear of retribution.

Truth be told, Stout recognized Maxim Bryant for what he was…a loose cannon!

When he made his report to his superiors in the DOD, he would be recommending that something be done about replacing the man. With power such as Maxim’s, he would have to be handled discreetly. Or else there would be serious repercussions for not just MBryO, but for the DOD as well.

The computer techs watched as the scout bots blasted a hole in the branches laid across the ledge. When the smoke cleared, there was no physical evidence left in the ashes to ascertain whether there had been life inside or not. The squad of metal canisters backed up the hillside, scanning for clues as to whether or not the escapees were still alive and on the run.

Maxim drew up as something caught his eye on the screen.

“Wait,” he ordered, tersely. “Go back!”

The security guard, monitoring the computer in question, froze in his seat. Then with trembling fingers, he cautiously backed up the camera feed. As the whole room watched, the scout bot rounded a huge boulder, the camera’s eye focusing on a heavy iron lid mounted into the hill. The machine took several pictures of the manhole covering before backing out from behind the boulder and continuing its search of the rocks.

“What in Zander-tar-pits is that?” Reginald Stout sputtered to no one in particular.

“That, Mr. Stout,” Maxim replied with a smug smile, “is the gateway to hell.”

Three days after they left the dust nebula, the space-hopper limped into Nyla 6’s docking bay.

Though they hadn’t been followed, the journey had been fraught with danger. Several times they’d had to evade Terran drone ships, diving into the nearest galaxy or hiding in the wake of a passing asteroid. Twice they had come under fire, one even striking the rocket thruster on their port side.

Luckily, the thrusters were used during lift-off and upon re-entry through thick atmospheres. They weren’t vital to getting them back to Nyla 6, though they would have made things a bit easier.

With a heavy sigh, Elias shut the down the cumbersome spaceship, opening the cargo doors. Spinning around in his captain’s chair, he watched as Joshua and William began escorting the passengers out the open portal. Stretching his cramped muscles, Elias followed them to the edge of the ship, thankful to be back in the safety of the space station.

The docking bay was busy with new life. Ian was helping Pax’s butler, Stanley, with the newcomers. The gold robot had organized a platoon of other ‘bots and soon they were escorting them to the living quarters down below. Elias figured at least two dozen of the residential suits would be occupied when they were done.