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Ashley plopped down on the pillow in her small cave. Once again she was confined to her cell. Three guards stood at the threshold, diamond blades glinting in the fungal glow. She had tried through both pantomime and repeating Sin'jari's name to communicate her innocence in the attack on Mo'amba, but it was futile. Her only witness, Mo'amba, was near death.
A commotion at the entrance to her cell drew her attention. She watched as Michaelson was shoved past the guards. He stumbled on his weak ankle but caught his balance.
"Fuckers took my guns," he said as he crossed over to her. "All of them. What's going on?"
"Sorry, it was my fault," she said, standing up, her muscles still tense with frustration. "I was at the wrong place at the wrong time." She told him the story of Sin'jari's attack on Mo'amba, and the result of her interference. "I was caught with a smoking gun, so to speak. Mo'amba was found stabbed in the chest with me standing over him, the murder weapon in my hand. Can you blame them?"
"What's going to happen?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I think everyone's more concerned about Mo'amba at the moment."
"Do you think the old guy has any chance of surviving?"
Ashley shook her head. "Doubtful. He lost a lot of blood. And with his mental abilities, if he was able, he'd be blowing the whistle on Sin'jari himself-telepathically on all wavelengths. For him to be remaining so silent, he's got to be nearly brain-dead. And if he dies, I don't think either one of us has much chance of living, regardless of whether or not Ben makes the deadline."
Michaelson glanced at his watch. "Ben has less than eight hours."
Sighing, she said, "Now I'm hoping he doesn't return. As angry as those tribesmen are, I think even if he returns with the statue, they'll just execute him along with us. It'd be best if he just stays away."
"He won't."
"I know." She sat back down on a pillow and waved Michaelson to do the same. "If only there was a way to warn him. To tell Harry and Ben not to come back."
"There's no way. Come hell or high water, Ben will return for you."
She smacked her knee with a fist. "Then I've got to find some way to let the village know about Sin'jari. Some way to communicate. But they won't even try to listen. Their judgment is too clouded with anger."
"Maybe Harry will return with Ben before Mo'amba dies. He could translate your story."
"Even if he did, do you think they'd believe us? Sin'jari is one of their elders. It would be his word against mine."
"Then we'll need evidence. What do you think the bastard was up to anyway?"
"No good, that's for sure. I think he means to interfere with Ben's mission. Thwart it in some way."
"If we could prove that, then that would go a long way to support your claim."
"But how?" she asked, exasperated.
"Catch him red-handed when he returns. The only easy route back to the village from Alpha Cavern is through that wormhole. If he went up that way, he'll sneak back that way."
"And how do you propose to catch him locked up in this cell?"
He shrugged. "Hey, I don't have all the answers."
She shook her head at the uselessness of their reverie. "Still, this all depends on Mo'amba surviving until Ben and Harry return. If he should-"
A keening wail erupted from the guards at the door. A cry that also echoed from the village around them, piercing the stone walls like paper, the pitch so high it caused the hairs to stand on Ashley's arms.
Michaelson covered his ears, eyes squinting at the noise.
As suddenly as it started, the wailing ceased. The sudden silence felt huge and empty, as if something vital had been removed from the air.
Ashley saw one of the guards look in her direction. Under his bony brow, tears were in his eyes, and something else too-hatred.
"What was that all about?" Michaelson asked.
"We just ran out of time. Mo'amba's dead."
Ben was just starting to stand when it hit. Like an explosion between his ears. He stumbled back to his knees. At first, he thought some bomb must have detonated, like the one attached to Jason's waist, but when he pried his eyes open, Jason was just staring at him with a quizzical look.
"Are you okay?" the boy asked, seemingly unaware of what had just transpired.
Ben nodded. "I think so…" Then the world went black.
What the hell? He struggled but seemed to be floating in a space without stars, nothing to push against, nothing to fight. He was not unconscious, just surrounded by an infinite blackness. Then a single dull ember appeared, glowing in the darkness ahead. As he concentrated on this landmark, like some distant beacon, the glow intensified to a bright flame. It spoke, vibrating with each word, in his grandfather's voice. "… Ben… Ben… you must… hurry…"
By now, Ben could recognize one of Mo'amba's callings. But now was not the time. "What is it? What's wrong? Is Ashley okay?"
"… weak… tired…" The flame died again to only a feeble flicker. "… must hurry…" It flickered bright for a heartbeat. "Danger…" Then it faded, first back to a dull glow, then to nothing. And in the darkness, Ben felt an emptiness. Somehow he knew that Mo'amba had not just broken contact but was gone. Gone for good. As the world reappeared around him, he found tears trailing down his cheek.
"Ben, what's wrong?" Jason was shaking his shoulder.
He pushed off the stone floor where he had collapsed. Mo'amba was dead. He knew this as sure as he knew his father's name. "I'm okay," he answered the boy.
"You fainted."
"Don't worry, I'm fine." He patted the boy's knee, while pondering the meaning of Mo'amba's final urgent message. He had wanted Ben to return immediately. Not to waste any more time. But what was the hurry? Ben still had seven hours before his deadline. Something must be up. A new danger.
Jason looked at him with concern but didn't speak.
Ben glanced at the timer on the boy's belt. The number five still glowed on the panel. Hurry, Mo'amba had urged. No kidding. He needed a plan. A way to contact Harry. Get him back here to defuse the bomb.
Then it dawned on him… Hell, why didn't he think of this earlier?
He did have a means of contacting Harry. Well, at least Nob'cobi, who could then tell Harry to get his butt back here. Mo'amba's calling reminded him. He could do the same. He had never tried it at such a distance… and it was doubtful that Nob'cobi was in a relaxed trance state, susceptible to his calling, but it was possible. Mo'amba had done it to him before. He had to try.
