by Gene Stiles
“Holy Creator!” Cronus muttered in wide-eyed shock. “What caused such a massive explosion?”
The scene shifted as the light from the blast dimmed to an ugly blood red. The smallest weed or stand of brush within five miles was either gone or burning in sickly-looking flames. Of the test site structures nothing was left but pulverized pebbles of stone. It was simply gone.
“It took us all this time to figure that out,” Carius said solemnly. Though he had seen these images often, even he was still awed by such raw, primal fury. “After the sky settled, we sent a team to inspect the blast site. They all died horribly within days of returning,” he said grimly. “Their bodies were cooked from within and their skin peeled away in seeping blisters.” He shook his head at the gory memories. “It was grisly.”
“We sent only scanners to the area after that,” Carius said, regaining his composure. “What we found was that the entire blast site was bathed in radiation. It will be unapproachable by anything living for decades.”
“We all know the science of the Proto-Suns,” he continued, becoming more clinical as he spoke to drive the visions from his eyes. “Balls of pyrite-coated uridium fuel the fusion reactions within which are turned into energy to power our technology. Magnetic fields contain the power behind a thick, crystal globe. In the history of the People, their systems have never failed. Even an MP weapon could not corrupt the field of a Proto-Sun. The magnetics only resonate in harmony, strengthening them instead of harming them.”
“Are you saying the tiny Proto-Sun motor of the sled exploded?” Cronus asked, baffled. At the nod by Carius, he said, “So what occurred in this instance to make one fail?”
“As I said,” the weapons master responded. “A perfect storm. From what we have been able to divine, the avalanche crushed the sled into a ball. The explosives it was carrying went off simultaneously all around the engine causing an implosion contained by the wreckage. This,” he said, returning the image of the mushroom cloud to the monitor, “was the result.”
Carius opened his hand and stretched it out to Cronus. A golden ball roughly a quarter of an inch across lay in his palm. “This is the pellet that fuels a sled engine.” His hazel eyes were lit by his inner fire. “Can you imagine the blast radius of such a weapon using a four-inch ball? I doubt even Ra’s armor could absorb such incredible energies.”
“But can you re-create such a blast safely?” Cronus asked, his fevered mind overflowing with the implications.
“Yes,” Carius said bluntly. “And I already have.”
“Lord Father,” Iapetus said, his deep baritone voice unusually subdued and quiet, “think long and hard before you use such a nightmarish device.”
The granite block of a man sat on the sofa across from Cronus in his private quarters atop the Central Pyramid of Atlantis. Outside a light, warm rain fell from skies dark and gray with rolling clouds. The city glittered beautifully, mini-rainbows created by the multi-colored lights from the buildings’ windows.
Yet, the magical scene did naught but terrify Iapetus. Behind his ebony eyes, he saw Atlantis overlaid with the images of the Sirenum test site, wiped from existence as if it had never been. He saw black shadows in the shape of people scorched into crumbled stone walls. In his timorous, shivering soul, Iapetus imagined survivors stumbling through the smoking ruins, their twisted bodies covered with seeping pustules and skin-blackening burns. He watched them vomit out their liquefied guts on cracked stone sidewalks as they slowly died in agony. All the things Carius told them had happened to his survey team.
“You would not only kill your enemies,” Iapetus warned, his throat burning with swallowed bile, “but every living thing within miles of the blast – plants, animals, even the air within. The waters would be poisoned and the soil rendered deadly. You will create desert where there was forest. Should you use it on Nil, all you wish to possess will be gone in a puff of smoke. Useless to you. Then what have you accomplished?”
“I do hear you,” Cronus replied calmly as he took a long swallow of strong, dark ale. The images from Sirenum ate at his mind as well, but they only seemed to feed the squirming, hungry vipers in his soul. They hissed and whispered mumbled words indecipherable in the clamor filling his brain.
“I have no intention of using this weapon against Nil,” Cronus said, staring blankly out at the misty rain. Unlike Iapetus, he did not see wanton destruction. He saw Atlantis standing in glowing grandeur as the center of a world under one rule. His. The only charred corpses Cronus saw were those of Zeus, his siblings and all those traitors who sided with Olympus. He prayed to the Creator for a sign – a path for him to walk – and this was His answer. Cronus now knew without a doubt what was expected of him and where his destiny lay.
“However,” Cronus continued firmly, his ruggedly handsome, hard-planed features appearing to have been carved from marble, “I will use it as a threat as Ra has used his armor. I shall be the one to issue the next ultimatum. My children will be brought to me for judgment. Nil will share its technology. All of the People on every continent will bend to our rule…or face annihilation.”
Iapetus shuddered at the fire flickering in his brother’s verdant eyes. In those flames, he saw a conflagration that could encompass the planet. He would do all he could to temper the Lord Father and, if necessary, as it had been in the past, he would stop him from destroying everything.
“To do that,” Iapetus cautioned, choosing he words carefully, “you will have to show them the power you wield. If you use it on a populated city, you risk turning every sword in the world against you.”
“I know,” Cronus replied stiffly, irritated that his Second implied that he could not reason for himself. He ran a hand absently through his curly, red mane, his brows nearly coming together above his narrowed eyes. A malicious, toothy grin covered his full, tan lips. The malevolence of his visage sent another shiver though Iapetus. “I have the perfect place in mind.”
Allerius and his friends sat upon the knoll where the home of Lord Zeus once stood in humble grandeur overlooking lost Olympia. Now all that was left of it was broken, charred timbers and heaps of shattered stone. The planks that made up the remains of the covered porch surrounding the old house were warped and twisted, pitted with holes and splinters. It was sad to see such a once beautiful, loving home reduced to a mere skeleton of decay and mangled wooden dreams.
Some things continued to endure. One was the incredible view. The turquoise waters of the Sea of Sorrows still glistened with diamond-touched waves as a strong, steady wind blew seaward across the warm inland meadows. A brilliant yellow sun still burned brightly through the wispy streams of clouds that floated lazily across an azure sky. Vast grasslands dotted with thin groves of tall, green trees and colorful wildflowers still spread out as far as the eye could see in every direction. On the other side of the inland sea rose the towering limestone mountains that cradled the Sanctuary deep within their bosom. All was like it had always been before mankind dwelled in this sacred place and how it would be long after he died.
And the ruins of old Olympia still marred the shoreline like a blackened pit of despair. It was this that brought the eight young people to this haunted place on such a lovely day.
“What treasures might we find today?” Stella asked softly as she leaned upon his brawny shoulder. Her voluptuous body laying against Allerius warmed him as much as the golden sunshine and brought a contented smile to his lips.
“Who knows? That is why we come here, is it not?” he replied, running his fingers through her long, silky blond hair. “There is much within the city which is buried beneath the rubble and worth a great deal if we find it. Lord Zeus pays well for any data crystals retrieved and the people are happy to buy any other items we find.”
“That is not why you come here,” Zolis laughed, bouncing a pebble off his friend’s wide, muscled chest. “You come here to explore and to escape your dreary life in your father’s workshop in the Sanctuary. You come here to feel th
e sunlight upon your skin. But, most of all, you come to spend time with a certain, lovely young woman whose mother hates you with a passion.”
Allerius tossed the stone back, almost knocking the glass of dark, red wine from Zolis’ hand. “You may have a point there,” he grinned widely, “but I am also building my savings so I can buy my own apartments. Then your lazy behind will have a place to stay instead of having to still live with your parents.”
The other eight friends sharing the picnic lunch joined in the laughter, poking fun at Zolis and each other. They all had their own reasons for coming here together twice a year as they had done for more than a decade. Mainly, though, they simply enjoyed the comradery and the chance to explore the wilds away from the confines of life in the Sanctuary.
A long rumble of strange-sounding thunder swept through the sparkling blue sky, causing the group to look upward. They all came to their feet, glancing around them for the source. Allerius cocked his head in wonder. No storm clouds crested the mountains nor rolled in from the open sea. He could not see where it was coming from.
“Look!” Stella shouted, grabbing his arm with one hand and pointing upward with the other. Her blue eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open in fear. She knew what that was. An Atlantean warbird.
Before the startled group could run for cover, the skyship roared past them without slowing. Stunned, Allerius pulled Stella close, glad they had gone unnoticed. His heart pounding, he smiled down at her blushed cheeks and smiled weakly. “It is gone. All is…”
They never felt the flash of the sun-bright, red-yellow flames that incinerated them where they stood. They did not see the mushroom-shaped fireball erupt from the ruins of old Olympia nor feel the shockwave that flattened the grasslands and uprooted the groves of trees. They did not witness the hellish firestorm that boiled the seashore nor the boulders erupting from the battered mountain cliffs. They saw and felt nothing. They were just gone.
The concussion wave struck the long-sealed entrances on the seaside tunnels of the Sanctuary. One gave way dropping tons of rock and dirt into the unused corridor. The sonic blast rippled through the passageways, resonating off the smoothed limestone walls and gaining a measure of strength as it went. Even a mile into the mountains, the unholy vibrations knocked everything from shelves and tables and slammed the people to the floor, their hands covering their bleeding ears. Screams of agony and fear joined the hellish howl in the ensuing chaos that filled the underground city.
In the areas closest to the cliffs, hallways collapsed and lights flickered out. The cave-ins filled the air with a cloud of dust that made breathing difficult and sight almost impossible. The air vents sucked up the dirt and spread it deeper into the complex, choking the residents and turning the brightly lit caverns into a twilight of horror.
Zeus picked himself up from the floor in his chambers. His knees and hands were bleeding from being tossed from his bed and sent skittering across the semi-smooth rock. A large bump near his temple turned purple, veined with black streaks where he had hit his head on the nightstand. His ears rang like bells, blotting out all other sounds in a muted fog of searing pain.
Leaning heavily on the wall, Zeus struggled toward his chamber doors. He could feel the stone quiver under his hand. One of the oak doors hung askew on broken hinges and he had to shove hard to get it open. Even the floor beneath his feet trembled and dusty pebbles fell into his tangled, red hair.
The main cavern was a nightmare scene of utter pandemonium. A dirty fog drifted through the air currents, stinging eyes and choking throats. Anything loose was scattered in piles of rubble on the polished floor along with terrified masses of huddled people. Wails of pain mixed with frightened screams and pleas for aid. Uninjured but scared people stumbled through the haze, seeking the relative safety of the mammoth open chamber.
Through the turmoil and noise a nearly ten foot tall, raven-haired man strode purposefully, shouting commands and drawing groups of the unharmed around him. Hades barked orders calmly, sending repair parties to the Sanctuary systems and small squads out to search for the wounded. His cool composure was like a balm to the people as the vibrations slowly faded away. Hades formed teams to check the hallways and to assist the citizens wherever needed. Having tasks to complete brought order to the confusion quickly and eased frayed nerves. He had seen such bedlam before in the mines and knew instinctively what to do.
“What in the name of the Creator was that?” Zeus asked, wiping the dust from his burning eyes. “An earthquake?”
“I am not sure,” Hades replied grimly, sending another group off to set up a Healing room for the hurt. “It reminds me more of explosions that sometimes occurred in the pits. The harmonics of our complex only add to the effects. Still, it must have been monstrous to affect so much of the Sanctuary.”
The vents kicked into high, the sound making everyone, including Zeus, jump and glance nervously toward the rock ceiling. In short order, the dust cleared and breathing became easier. In the brightening lights, the damage was not as bad as first thought. A careful survey of the Sanctuary showed the majority of the destruction was limited to the western sections of the underground near the inland ocean. Those areas were closed long ago after Haven was leveled by Cronus so most were uninhabited. Injuries were mainly bumps, bruises, cuts and a few broken bones caused by falling objects and easily treated. Still, eighteen people lost their lives, crushed under collapsed corridors.
While transports took his people out of the Sanctuary into the open air of the eastern settlements until a full assessment of structural damage could be made, Zeus and his sisters took a lift up the mountain to see what had caused such devastation. Since they determined the blast came from the west, they looked out over the Sea of Sorrows. What they saw took them back to their knees, weeping in horror and mind-bending fury.
Where the sacred ruins of Olympia once lay there was now only a blackened pit. Hellish wildfires raged across the tortured landscape as far as the eye could see. The sands along shoreline glistened like shattered glass under a smoky sky.
Zeus knelt on the rocky plateau, his fists grinding into the soft limestone. His golden eyes blazed brighter than the sickly looking sun glowing high above him. A single bitter word formed on his tightly drawn lips. “Cronus.”
Cronus stared stunned at the Sentinel images of Olympia. Even the vipers in his savage soul curled in on themselves, hiding their faces from the monstrous, horrifying crimson and black cloud. Beneath his fire-red beard, his mouth hung open and dry. His chipped-jade eyes glistened with unshed tears as he watched the evil, vicious flames ravage the twisted landscape. The knuckles of his fisted hands were white and trembling. ‘What have I done?’ he thought, his mind overwhelmed by the demonic power he had unleashed.
Outwardly, Cronus kept his composure, his back straight and stiff. He closed his mouth before the others in the war room could see his shock. The only sounds around him were the hum of computers and the squawks of muted comlinks. Not a word was spoken as the holos swept over the monitors. The air was so thick it seemed as if the breath was stuck in every chest.
“Send these to Ra,” Cronus said, fighting to keep the shivers from his voice. He turned to leave the silent room, knowing he must get elsewhere before the pounding in his head exploded. Cronus would not allow his people to realize how much the very thought of raining such hell down upon a populated city made him want to vomit. Choking back the acidic bile in his throat, he said over his shoulder, “Tell him this will happen to Nil if my demands are not met.”
Chapter XVIII
“Enough!” Ra bellowed above the angry shouting. Even though his deep baritone voice was not amplified, it cut through the commotion in the council chambers like a hot knife through fresh butter.
Ra stood on the raised dais in front of his throne, his sky-blue eyes flashing with streaks of white lightning and his hands fisted on his narrow hips. The sun disk in the Nillian crown pulsed with the turmoil of his emotions sending bursts of
sparks around the upraised horns that held it. If he had been holding his rune-covered staff, the yellow-red globe at its top would erupted in a ball of energy that would have blinded the entire room.
“We will get nowhere if we do not calm down and come together,” Ra said over the grumbling and sullen, muted conversations.
“Calm? How do you expect us to remain calm when Atlantis threatens us with such a monstrous weapon?” Commander Mazazel growled, his voice sharp-edged and incensed. “Such power could turn Nil to dust in a heartbeat!”
“Perhaps,” Ra responded icily, his artistically carved face grim and hard. “Perhaps not. The Cydonian archives speak of such weapons in the ancient past of their worlds. The horrors of their use were so great, they were banned across the galaxy.”
“I doubt if the Lord Father cares if they were banned,” Mazazel replied bitterly amid a wave of assent. “He will still use them against us.”
“Doubtful,” Isis said, rising from her throne next to Ra. The maroon, floor-length gown she wore pinned at her left shoulder sparkled with inlaid silver threads in the lights of the Great Hall. It clung to her shapely body like a jealous lover, drawing the attention of many in the room. Her cape of wavy auburn hair glistened as it fell over her slightly sloped shoulders and across her ample chest. The crown of gold holding the sun in raised hands encircling her forehead beat in unison with Ra’s and shimmered in her emerald eyes. She intentionally dressed this way in order to affect the onlookers and give them something else to think about. Isis knew well how to use her sensuality as a balm.
“First of all,” she said once all eyes were upon her, “Cronus could have used this hellish device on any of our cities. Instead, he chose a place remote and uninhabited. He did not know of the existence of the Sanctuary and, therefore, could not have anticipated the effects on the Olympian complex. Secondly, the Lord Father covets our technology, science and all that we have. Wiping out Nil would take that all away from him and gain him nothing.”
