The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,140
links.”
“But you just said the doors were coated in ichorium,” Landon said. “Our abilities won’t get through it.”
Brock disregarded Landon’s outburst and repeated himself, “Pollux, can you still get through to Castor?”
“I think so,” Jeremiah replied.
“Echo, you able to see any other ways out of there?” he directed towards Peregrine.
Peregrine creased her forehead as she concentrated and then said, “The entire vault is coated, but there appears to be a small ventilation shaft hidden behind the bottom row of safety deposit boxes. I think if they can manage to get into the ducts and head south, they should come across a vent that’ll drop them right into the lobby.”
“Okay, Pollux, tell Castor what Echo said about the vents and to rendezvous at the Alpha Chariot.” Brock directed his team with such authority. Landon did not get along with his roommate, but in moments like this, he admired Brock’s natural ability to lead. That momentary feeling of admiration always aggravated Landon afterward. “And tell them to hurry up. We’ve worn out our welcome.”
Jeremiah stared strangely toward the dented, ichorium-coated vault door. After a few seconds, he turned back to the team and said, “They’ll meet us there.”
“All right, Echo, like we planned . . . lead the way and get us out of here.”
Peregrine nodded in acknowledgement before spinning around and guiding the team through the labyrinthine hallways toward the exit. Landon quick-stepped a few times to catch up to Cortland—his closest friend on the Pantheon—at the back of the pack.
“How could Pollux do that?” Landon asked Cortland while narrowly avoiding tripping over the unconscious body of one of Nitranos’ security force.
“Twins,” he replied nonchalantly. “Their abilities work differently for them.”
The strange glances, Landon thought as he kept pace with the team. That’s why the Cranes are always giving each other weird looks. They’re communicating, and we just can’t hear it.
The trip to the Alpha Chariot, which they had stationed about a mile away from the compound, was easy. The team had neutralized Nitranos’ security on their way to the vault, and they managed to be clear of the building moments before the reinforcements arrived. There was a slight scare, however, as Jeremiah fell over unexpectedly just before reaching cover inside the forest. It was as if his right leg was pulled out from under him, like he’d snagged his foot on an invisible tripwire.
Landon’s legs jittered up and down as he anxiously sat in his chair on the team’s aircraft and waited for the return of the two teammates he felt responsible for stranding; nevertheless, he couldn’t help but stare at the atomizer securely gripped in Brock’s right hand. It was such a small device, about the size of a baseball, yet with the right substance fueling it, it could disperse any substance into the surrounding air. Landon easily saw how it could be turned into a deadly weapon. What was the Pallas Corporation intending to do with it?
Celia believed they were planning to sell it on the black market to a terrorist organization or a cell of religious extremists to continue funding Pallas’ criminal operation, but Landon knew in his gut it wasn’t that simple. The Pantheon had been run ragged in the past month with mission after mission; like the Metis Labs operation, they claimed this one was spur of the moment and, according to Dr. Wells, vital.
Brock placed the device into a holding container beside the cockpit for safekeeping. Once the door of the container closed, the world around Landon faded away—the commotion of his teammates as they secured themselves in their seats, the sound of the engines as they warmed up for take-off, the discussions of the mission, and speculation regarding when Atalanta and Castor would arrive—it all blurred out of existence, leaving only Landon and a secret mission that became more and more impossible to complete with every passing moment. There must be a way he could still appease Celia by keeping the device away from the Pallas Corporation. Landon had to figure out a way to succeed at his countermeasure and redeem himself for Celia.
“Well, that could’ve gone better, don’t you think?” Cortland collapsed into his seat in front of Landon and propped his feet up on a groove in the wall of the aircraft cabin. “I mean, with all the security we had to take out, tripping the alarms in the vault, and Castor and Atalanta getting trapped, we’re kind of lucky we made it out of there this time, right?”