Stones: Experiment (Stones #3) (44 page)

The white ruins of an ancient Greek temple complex stand out against green mountains dotted with outcroppings of rock and fallen boulders. The fragrance of cedar wood floats by on a gentle morning breeze. Songbirds keep up a constant din of noise in the treetops.

Ryzaard allows his eyelids to drop.

For just a moment, he is six years old, playing among the ancient trees in the park across from his home in Poland.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

His eyes shoot open at the sound of the voice. Turning abruptly, he sees a young man in khaki pants and a round sunhat walking to him with a slate in his hand. He has a look of official authority mixed with mild concern.

“I’m not sure how you got here, sir, but the site doesn’t open to the public for another hour.” The young man stares at the green globe of glass and steel hanging from Ryzaard’s hand. “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to—”

Narrowing his eyes, Ryzaard turns and walks away in silence.

“But sir,” the young man says.

The slate falls from the young man’s fingers and shatters on a rock. Both hands go up to his chest, clutching at his shirt. Blood pours from his mouth and nose.

The choking sound fades as Ryzaard strolls down a rock path past the large columns. Ten seconds later, the young man’s body slumps to the ground like a bag of pebbles.

After a five minute walk past a graveyard of boulders, through a grove of trees and down a long flight of stone steps, Ryzaard emerges into an open, flat area at the foot of the mountain. To his right, he sees an ancient Greek stadium with its terraced stones. To the left are numerous lone marble columns standing on a field of grass.

He takes a yellow jax out of the inside pocket of his tweed suit, brushes a finger along its side and holds it in his open palm.

The color image of a young man with dark hair materializes above Ryzaard’s hand. He’s looking at a blue screen imbedded in his desk.

“Dr. Ryzaard.” Diego’s voice sounds canned and tinny in the thin air. “I’ve been following your progress. I see you’ve made it to the main temple site.”

Ryzaard casts his eyes up past the mountainside as Diego speaks. “Can you give me the latest reading on the location of the Stone?”

“Let’s see.” Diego’s fingers tap on glass. “It’s about four hundred meters straight ahead and down fifty.”

“Are you sure?”

A long moment of silence passes.

“Just did a reconfirm of the location algorithm,” Diego says. “It comes up with the same answer.”

“Most peculiar.” Ryzaard looks forward at the cliff face rising straight up from the valley floor two hundred meters away. “But not surprising. I didn’t really expect to find the Oracle out in the open. Can you scan for any openings in the rock face directly to the west of me?”

“I’ve been scanning since you called.”

“And?”

Ryzaard can see Diego’s fingers tapping and swiping a glass screen.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Diego says.

The sound of human voices approaches Ryzaard from behind. “Tell me anyway.” He breaks into a brisk walk toward the cliff face.

“According to my instruments, you’re looking at a single, unbroken chunk of granite. Solid. All one piece. Nearly a perfect cube, three hundred meters on a side. The cliff face in front of you is just one of the exposed sides. The rest is embedded in the mountain. No external cracks or fissures. And no openings to the outside.”

“Of course,” Ryzaard says. “I should have suspected.”

Diego stares at his desk. “The Stone appears to be in the dead center of the rock.”

“Is there an open cavity inside?”

“Unfortunately,” Diego says, “my instruments can’t penetrate it with sufficient clarity to get an answer. I’ve tried to patch in one of our multi-spectrum satellite probes with 3-D imaging capability, but that doesn’t help either. The only way I’ve even getting a signal is through your Stones.”

Two people, a man and woman, descend the stairs behind Ryzaard and enter the open plaza.

Ryzaard slips behind a tree. “Send me the exact coordinates of the signal inside the rock.”

“Sure, but what are you going to—”

“Don’t ask.” Ryzaard’s voice drops to a whisper and he flatten himself against a tree. “Just send the coordinates to my jax.”

Diego’s holo image moves between bluescreens. “You should have it now.” A few seconds roll by, and then he looks up, his eyes widening with a sudden flash of understanding. “No. Don’t do it. Don’t jump into the middle of the rock.”

Ryzaard peeks past the tree at the man and woman coming closer. “Why not?”

“Look. We have a cube shape imbedded in the mountain that my instruments can’t penetrate.” Diego shakes his head. “There’s something strange going on here. What if you jump into the middle of it and find out there’s nothing there but solid granite? Or worse. Maybe it’s a trap.”

A pulsating bubble of blue energy envelops Ryzaard. “I’ll have to take that chance.” An audible humming surrounds him as he stares at the numbers on the jax, internalizing them. “One other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s time to start the operation we discussed.”

“
Cry of Freedom
?”

“Yes. Tell Alexa. She has all the details and full authority to launch the first wave. I’ll expect a report when I return.” Ryzaard relaxes into the numbers on his jax.

His eyes meet the man and woman just as the air flashes white.

T
he sound of surf lapping at the sand wakes Matt up.

Yarah lies on the beach beside him, her small body curled up in a tight ball with her head thrown back, as if trying to simultaneously escape from and hide within herself.

Noticing he is still blue from head to toe, he reaches under his shirt and touches the spot on his chest just above the sternum. The armor fades from his skin.

He stands and stretches. The edge of the water draws him to the spot where the white foam tongue of the ocean rolls up and licks at his feet. Only a slice of the orange sun remains above the watery horizon. As he watches, it shrinks until it vanishes.

And then it hits him.

Leo is dead.

The last image of Leo lying on the floor forces its way into Matt’s mind. Stomach churning, he bends over and retches onto the sand. How had it all happened? What could he have done to save Leo, the boy who became like a son?

Never leave the children alone.

That was his first mistake, underestimating the danger constantly facing all of them. Leaving Leo and Yarah alone so he and Jessica could return to Earth.

That’s how Jhata found them.

No place is safe. Sticking together is the only protection. Even that has no guarantee.

What about Jessica?

After all they’ve been through together, after all the promises he made to her, in the heat of the moment, he still left her alone.

He had no choice.

No, that’s a lie. He had a choice. Protect Jessica or protect hundreds of innocent people about to die. He chose the latter.

And failed.

What if she never made it out of the freedom camp? Ryzaard knew she was there. He would have ordered her death. With only a pulse rifle, what could she do against the weapons of the massive heli-transports and a hundred soldiers in battle gear?

Matt drops his head into his hands.

“We have to go after her.” Yarah walks to Matt’s side. She reaches out her hand and takes his.

Together, they sit on the sand and watch the pink sky slowly fade to purple and then black. As the minutes go by, Matt stares at the sea. A tidal wave of emotion looms in his mind, raw and unrelenting. It rises and presses on him as though hanging in the air just above his head.

And then it breaks loose.

Leo is dead.

He was just a boy. Years of life ahead. A gentle heart, only wanting to help and heal others. Unwilling to kill. Innocent. Perfect. Sacrificed himself to save me and Yarah. How did it all happen? What should I have done?

I left Leo and Yarah alone!

I should have stayed with them. They trusted me. Looked to me as a father. Begged me not to go. I could have protected them.

Too reckless. Always too reckless.

People suffer and die because of my decisions.

If only I could go back and do it all over again.

Dad is dead. Mom is dead. Leo, Little John, Jake.

Jessica!

My fault. All of it my fault.

Matt realizes he’s lying face-down in the sand, gut wrenching, hardly able to breath. Sobbing with abandon.

A hand brushes his cheek.

Yarah stares at Matt, a thin line of tears streaming out of the corner of her eye. “But it’s not your fault.” Her gaze drops to the sand. “I asked Jhata to come. I thought she was good.” Yarah tries hard to smile, but her chin is trembling uncontrollably. “Just before we left Leo and jumped away from Jhata, he said something to me. In my mind.”

Matt stays silent, looking at the sand. Hot tears well up. A thick lump of emotion and regret lodges in his throat. He tries in vain to swallow it.

Yarah comes closer and whispers in his ear. “
Tell Matt it’s OK
. That’s what Leo said.”

Tremors of untapped emotion erupt from deep inside Matt. Sitting up, he wraps his arms on his legs in a tight ball, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to hold it back.

But he can’t.

It bursts out. His body convulses and heaves. As he struggles to hold back a wave of despair, words pour out between sobs.

“So sorry . . . never leave you again . . . find Jessica.”

Yarah gets up on her knees, stretches her thin arms up to Matt, lays her head on his shoulder and pulls him close as they both cry.

The surf comes up and engulfs them, washing away the tears dripping to the sand.

F
or the first time since she was a child, Jhata aches all over. She raises herself up to a sitting position. The remains of Leo lie a meter away, his leg still stretched out where she grasped his ankle in the seconds before his death.

From head to foot, his body has burst open like an empty cocoon from which his soul is finally set free.

She holds still, opening all her senses to the subtle energy fields dancing nearby, trying to get a sense of the direction Matt and Yarah have taken in their escape. But too much time has passed. The trail is cold.

They would be fools to return to their home planet of Earth. The man named Ryzaard has progressed enough to track anyone with a Stone. But
Jessica
is still on Earth. Sooner or later, Matt’s longing for her will compel him to return and search.

That is the downside of love.

It forces you to put the welfare of others before your own. The opposite of freedom.

And what about Yarah?

Given what she was able to accomplish in their last encounter, the little girl is far more talented than Jhata could have imagined. And far more dangerous.

With difficulty, Jhata stands to her feet. Automatic internal healing processes are already at work, repairing damage that would have killed any
ordinary human
. She left that stage of existence behind long ago with all the upgrades to her physiology. But there are limits beyond which even she cannot repair herself. In her weakened condition, Leo had come close to inflicting such damage on her.

That is the only reason Matt and Yarah were able to jump away.

She kneels beside what remains of him. A bloody hand still grasps the Stone that is now dark and cold. With familiar relish, she stretches out her fingers to its surface, closes her eyes and opens all her senses as the Stone comes alive at her touch.

Standing up more firmly now, she drops it into an empty silver loop on her belt, not bothering to wipe off the blood.

Yellow energy shoots from an idle finger pointing at the body. It glows a golden color and disintegrates, leaving behind only a faint afterimage that fades to ash.

Jhata walks fifty meters across the middle of the room to an outlying point of light floating at eye level. When she touches it, the star increases to the size of her head. A small dot the color of light blue hangs a couple of feet away.