Lords of Kobol - Prelude: Of Gods and Titans

by Edward T. Yeatts III

thing is this … we keep up the good work we've been doing so far." The Psilons nodded. "Eryx and Aphrodite," the two looked toward him, "you two are easily the most photogenic among us." A few of them laughed. "You'll be our public face. You'll make announcements to the press, go on tour … all of that stuff."

  Aphrodite clapped her hands quickly and Eryx smiled as he put his arm around her. Hephaestus leaned toward Zeus and whispered, "Come on, man."

  Zeus smiled and whispered back, "Don't worry about her." Hephaestus shook his head and moved away.

  "What are you going to be doing?" Hermes asked.

  "Oh, you know me. I'm the idea man." He smiled and few Psilons laughed. "And I've got plenty of ideas. Which reminds me, when do those first packages get delivered to Tiberia's puppet states?"

  Bia said, "The aeroplanes have been contracted. Next week, at the earliest."

  "Great," Zeus clapped his hands together. "We have some mingling to do. Investors and all." Poseidon scoffed and Zeus continued, "Then we can go eat."

  LXVIII

  CRONUS

  21 Years Before the End

  On his large monitor, standing before a blue curtain, young, white-haired Zeus spoke, "She trained us to help right the wrongs of her first creations. We are not Titans. We have no intention of being Titans."

  Cronus pressed a button on his panel and stood. He stared at the deactivated rectangle for several seconds before he turned and walked out onto the balcony.

  Arba. A beautiful, tropical island. It was once the vacation home of the Caesar's family. A century ago, it was the home of Maxentius' mad brother, his scheming sister-in-law, and their son. They've all been dead for many years.

  "Exile," Caesar said decades ago. "I could send you to the Herean Mountains in Pathya. You'd freeze there." The imperator nodded toward the guards and they lifted Cronus' shackled form off the marble floor. "I can't deny what you and your people have done for me, though. I'll let you spend a few generations away from everyone. Give you something to think about."

  Cronus watched the waves crash on the rocks below. "It's been a few generations," he said out loud. With no one around, he spoke to himself frequently. He walked back into the estate and tapped some keys on his panel. The screen illuminated again and after a moment, Rhea appeared.

  "Cronus," she said.

  "Rhea. How are you?"

  She nodded. "Well."

  He scanned her image and saw the shoulders of her uniform coat, "Still praetor of Saban?"

  "And Naban, yes."

  Cronus smiled. "Naban as well. The Caesar trusts you."

  "He does." Immediately, she followed up with, "What do you want?"

  "There's no need for anger. No need to rush. I simply want to return to Tiberia."

  "'Simply,'" she scoffed. "The Caesar exiled you for sending the Cylons his way."

  "It all worked out."

  Rhea shook her head, "The people of Alabor are just now able to say your name without spitting."

  "I wasn't the only Titan with a steel fist," Cronus said.

  "Indeed. But thirty years of you was more than enough for them."

  "The feeling was mutual," he answered. "I'm not scheming to be a praetor again, anyway."

  Rhea tilted her head. "Really?"

  "No." Cronus paced a little in front of the monitor and said, "I've had a few breakthroughs and ideas I'd like to try. I'm sure the Caesar would appreciate that." Rhea thought for a moment and folded her arms. "I understand he hasn't had much success in making an organic body for himself."

  "And how do you know that?"

  Cronus smiled. "The best doctors and scientists in the world keep disappearing, end up in Tiber. Only … after a couple of years, they're gone from there, too." Rhea looked away from her camera and offscreen. "We know he's executing them, right?"

  "You want me to help you come home?"

  Cronus slowly bowed his head. "Please."

  She inhaled deeply and hovered her hand over a panel. "I'll ask. Don't pack your bags just yet." Then the screen blinked off.

  The Titan walked to his desk. He sat in the swivel chair and opened the drawer. "Almost time," he said. "I've been waiting so long to try." He pulled out a large test tube filled with a dark brown and red material. "So many ideas. I just needed the excuse." In his mind, he saw his 'son,' Zeus. He lifted the tube and watched the sunlight pass through it before smiling.

  LXIX

  CAESAR

  12 Years Before the End

  The emperor stood, staring into the canister. The illuminated ichor glowed upon his face and he sighed.

  There it lay. Flesh and blood. Maxentius IX, as he appeared nearly two centuries ago when he was just twenty-five years old. The body was ready. The mind was empty. Caesar need only speak and it would be done.

  It was only now, in secret, that the Life Extension Project as the emperor envisioned it had come to an end. Via Cronus, of all possibilities. Was I mistaken in exiling him for so long?

  The Caesar looked at his own arm, still haunted by his older brother's words. 'Trying to shoot life into veins you don't even have anymore.' Youthful, though it seemed, he knew that the flesh was nothing of the sort. It was a collection of metallic spheres so small they seemed fluid. He could flex and stretch them. Change their colors. Beneath the skin there was the metal and plastic skeleton he had known for decades. A Cylon skeleton.

  Still a prison, he thought. He recalled the first time he regarded his body as such. He was an old man, lying in bed after a major stroke. The next time, his mind was in a box. Though it pulsed with power and information, he didn't feel free.

  Caesar shook his head. "Prison." In his mind, he heard a connection being made. The prefects were reminding him of the meeting.

  He closed his eyes and placed his palms against the golden-lighted cask. If I choose this, I wouldn't have to deal with them. Slowly he opened his eyes and was able to make out the contours of his own face floating in the gel.

  The emperor left the lab and rode the lift back up to his level. The Praetorian Guard nearby said nothing. Caesar stared at the back of the man's metallic helmet. He glanced up toward the blue plumage of his crest. He wanted the guard to say something. He needed to talk to someone real.

  The lift doors opened and the emperor strode down the hall and into his conference room. Six legates were present already. Five other senators, too. Two consuls, three magistrates.

  "Greetings," Caesar said. He looked toward the mechanical form of Legate Otha and asked, "How do you like your new body?"

  She extended her plastic arms and smiled. "Far better than I imagined I would, imperator." She walked around the large table and approached the tech consul. "I understand that the Project has finally managed to duplicate organic tissue. We could have our own bodies back, if we wanted them."

  Senator Gello laughed, "Who would want to?"

  Involuntarily, Caesar looked toward him and scowled. Gello didn't notice and the emperor looked down at the table.

  With a high-pitched blip, the large screen in the room was activated. "Greetings, my lord," the Prefect said.

  Caesar nodded and responded. "Greetings. What word from the hive?"

  The digitally edged voice laughed and said, "Nothing of value to you, dominus."

  Maxentius watched the colors ebb across the screen and over the artificial face. Condensed into one mind, the sycophants were even more unbearable than they had been before. "Let us begin."

  The monthly review went quickly. The legates spoke about the minimal resistance in the Expansion states. The intel consul spoke about the latest from Alabor and the Cylons on Gela. The tech consul spoke about the innovations from Cronus and the Project and the many infrastructure upgrades that would be needed. The senators spoke about legislation on the calendar. The Caesar listened and stored the information away. He didn't ponder it. He didn't answer it then. At m
ost, he said, "I will inform you of my decision later."

  When it was done, the Prefect left the monitor and the Cylon-bodied advisers left the room. The Caesar remained.

  When the sun had set, he thought to his Praetorian Guard, "Send in one of your men. The one who worked the lift for me earlier today." A moment later, a man clad in a clash of modern and ancient gear entered and saluted by the door.

  "What's your name?"

  "Quintus, my lord."

  Caesar waved him toward the table and repositioned a chair, "Please. Sit. I want to talk."

  The young man hesitated for a split second and then crossed the room. The emperor took the man's rifle and set it upon the table. With some effort, Quintus removed his decorative helmet, revealing his close-cut blonde hair. He lightly placed the headgear on the marbletop, too.

  Caesar sat in a chair near the guard's. He breathed in and out, though this body did not require it. He could see that Quintus was nervous and confused.

  "Do you recognize the name Maximus the Confessor?"

  The guard nodded. "Of course, my lord."

  "Maximus the Third," the emperor said. "He's the one who changed the Empire from followers of the old gods to the single god of the Median Church. The Synoptic Church. He's revered as a founder, almost." Quintus was nodding. "He introduced the concept of … confessing one's sins." Caesar straightened the cuff of his pantsleg. "When did you last go to confession?"

  Quintus' eyes widened and he said, "I, um. My lord, I don't …"

  Caesar smiled and lifted his hand. "Don't worry. I don't care. I ask because I wanted to know if people still did." Quintus nodded. "I feel the