Timeless

Return to BasicsThe boarding ramp extended toward the ship. Once it locked into place, the dock doors of the Astral Spirit lowered. The interior lights from the ship illuminated the outline of a lone figure in the doorway. Hark-Kalech stood ready, prepared to greet him. It had been a long time since Calypso stepped foot aboard the Consortium flag ship and he smiled when he glanced at his former Council of Five colleague. “Welcome aboard,” Hark-Kalech beamed. “It has been a long time.” Calypso reached out and shook his hand. “Indeed, my old friend. I assume by your warm reception that the task is done?” “Yes,” Hark-Kalech let go of his hand and his smile faded when he saw the look of unease on Calypso's face. “Is something wrong?” Calypso ran a hand through his flowing red hair and frowned when it came back moist with cold sweat. “It's the Insurgents. It seems they are not as disorganized as I had originally suspected. They seem to have a few tricks up their sleeves.” Hark-Kalech narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” Calypso opened his mouth to respond but heard a noise coming from the bridge between the two ships. It sounded like someone dropped a coin on a metal surface. He looked back toward the darkness and saw nothing except an empty corridor. The dimly lit hall was illuminated by the light coming from the open doors of their two ships, but it was faint at best. It would be difficult to see an army crossing the shadows. “Calypso?” Hark-Kalech was looking at him with concern. “Sorry my nerves must be fried,” he replied. “What I meant was that they seemed to have found new allies. The forces of Xajax have joined the decimated ranks of what was left of Embeth's loyalists among the Defense Fleet. I assume after Corvus' failure on Vaire that the Hydrophants will not be far behind.” Hark-Kalech shrugged. “Once we merge the Consortium's forces with the Ascended, Nathan can rally an entire galaxy to his cause and it will not make a difference.” “Perhaps you're right, but I prefer to take no chances,” Calypso replied. He started down the hall but stopped when the hairs on his neck stood at attention. He suddenly felt colder for no reason at all. The temperature was a bit cool, but nothing like the iciness that wrapped around him like a shroud. An overwhelming feeling of being watched overtook him, despite the fact they were alone in the hallway. He found his gaze drifting toward the bridge, but the gloomy corridor remained empty. He shrugged it off as simple nerves. “Shall we adjourn to the meeting room to discuss our next move?” Calypso asked. Hark-Kalech swept his hand in an arc, motioning for Calypso to follow him. They entered an elevator that stood at the end of the hall. When Calypso turned around to wait for the elevator doors to close, he saw the docking bridge in the distance. A shadow passed before the open doorway and he froze. Squinting, he struggled to make out a shape in the gloom, but the only thing he observed was the light wafting in from his ship. After several seconds passed, he chalked it up to the light playing tricks on him. When the elevator doors closed, the shadowy figure dropped from the roof of the corridor. He landed softly, almost cat-like. His wings folded tightly against his back attracting the surrounding shadow to him like a magnet while he surveyed his surroundings. He crept toward the hallway while the shadows followed him as if they were his children. As he moved through the empty halls, he marveled at his luck. No crowds made it easier for him to work. His primary objective was discretion. His mission was simple; get in and get out unseen. Calypso's skittish behavior amused him. The shadowy figure had been well briefed on Calypso's ability to sway his enemies with hypnotic charm, and he took great joy in unnerving him. He reached behind him and removed an eight-inch jagged steel blade out of the sheath. Its hilt had been carved into the shape of a scorpion, a gift from the desert nomads of Verillion 5. The blade was black, like the shadows. The little bit of light which did manage to penetrate the gloom reflected the deadliness of the ebony blade. It was coated with the essence of Moonweed, the most poisonous plant growing in the badlands of Epsilon Prime. His blade had one purpose and one purpose only—assassination. He was an artist. His art was murder. Moro smiled and drifted toward the elevator.