Lords of Kobol - Prelude: Of Gods and Titans

by Edward T. Yeatts III

clearing by the old road. He looked in each direction and saw no vehicles. Prometheus turned right and walked along the shoulder.

  We pulled together after our parents died. I would have called him a friend. He scoffed out loud and mumbled, "Didn't last." He had his close friends. He stayed with his brothers and Hera. He shook his head as he thought about the other women, too. He's a bastard. In multiple ways.

  A car approached and Prometheus considered darting into the trees. If he had already been seen, though, it would be suspicious. He kept his head down and kept walking. The vehicle swept past him and he shivered in its breeze.

  Prometheus began to think about what Zeus said. He could be right about the Cylons. He's been right about the Titans. About Caesar. Attica and the Space Probe Agency. He shook his head and said, "He's always right." What if he's right about needing to leave? His pace slowed and he thought about the world's ending.

  He looked up and saw the little building on the left. The paint was chipping and the small cupola on the roof seemed damaged. The sign looked in good order. It read, "Kvenlan Patarian Church of God," in both Thorian and Attican.

  "'Patarian?'" Promethus said. He saw his breath billow forth in the moonlight and he shivered again. With a few steps, he crossed the road and slowly moved onto the small porch in front of the door. He knocked three times and heard nothing. He reluctantly withdrew his hand from his warm pocket and put it on the dull brass handle. With a push, the door opened.

  Prometheus stepped inside. "Hello?" He said it again in Thorian. There was no answer.

  He closed the door and moved to the front of the sanctuary. Above the dais hung a large wooden circle with a wooden rectangle dividing it vertically. It was the only symbol of the Median faith in the sparse sanctuary. He moved under it and saw a table filled with small candles. There was a book of matches next to a sign which read something in Thorian. Prometheus' grasp of the language wasn't firm enough to make it out.

  After lighting the candles, he sat on the floor by them and rubbed his hands over the fires. He rocked back and forth and kept looking over his shoulder toward the door. He felt certain the priest would come in at some point and scream at him.

  Prometheus rubbed his hands over the candles again. He looked up at the Median circle and wondered at its weight. Then he thought to the last time he was in a church of any kind. A century ago. A Synoptic cathedral in Fardan. It was opulent, adorned with gold and colored enamel. The priests wore flowing robes and carried bejeweled instruments. When they were still in Doria, he read about the Median faith and had a belief in God. He was comforted by the thought of an all-powerful being who watched over him. After the loss of my parents, of course it was comforting.

  He looked again at the hanging circle. The flame flickered shadows over the grain of the wood. His eyes ran along the surface of the rectangle that showed the middle path. The path to faith. Prometheus' throat clenched and he felt warmth wash over him. He gasped and thought again of the little boy, huddled with his older brother in the crawlspace as their parents' blood dripped between the floorboards.

  God, he prayed, if you are truly here, if you love us as the books say, I need your help. A tear fell over his cheek and he leaned back, bracing his shoulders on the first row of benches. I don't know if I can trust all of the people I've known my whole life. War is coming, I'm sure, but I don't know who to follow. He chuckled and shook his head. Or if I should follow anyone.

  Behind him, the door creaked open.

  Prometheus quickly stood and wiped his face. He tried to think of the Thorian words for "I'm sorry," but the visitor spoke first.

  "Hello, Prometheus."

  It was Themis, a Titan who looked every bit the same as his own mother. She had the same short, curly brown hair. She had the same full lips. She even wore glasses, which Prometheus remembered her wearing.

  He staggered backward and bumped the table, tossing candles aside and spilling their wax. She noticed and took a step forward, but Prometheus took another back.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

  She lightly clasped her hands and held them in front of herself. "I got lucky. I saw you walking on the road as I drove."

  His eyes remained wide and he shook his head once. "Why were you driving here in the first place?"

  She took a single step forward. "Intelligence said the Olympians were hiding out in either Erlitoun or Thoria. I decided to check out Kvenlan. I knew Zeus was here once …"

  Prometheus straightened up and tightened his fists. "You came to kill us?"

  She seemed stunned. "No. Absolutely not. I knew Zeus was here because I've been searching for him, too, on my own. I came because I wanted to be the one to find you." She took a step forward. "I have no plans of telling anyone that I did."

  He squinted and tilted his head. "Why?"

  She smiled a little. "I came to get Zeus' help." Prometheus didn't move. Themis took another step forward and asked, "Why are you here?"

  Involuntarily, he looked up toward the Median circle and then down at the floor. "I was having a … crisis of faith."

  "Oh. In God?"

  Prometheus briefly, quickly shook his head. "No. In Zeus."

  Themis nodded and glanced around the sanctuary. "I won't pry, but I will say this. Zeus may be the best hope you have."

  His head slowly rose and he flicked his eyebrows together briefly. "Really?"

  She spoke as she stepped again. "Maybe the best hope for the world."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because Cronus fears him. He won't admit it, but I can see it." Themis nodded and said, "Yes." There was a lengthy, heavy pause. Suddenly, Prometheus looked at her and marched the rest of the way across the sanctuary. She seemed surprised but she straightened up and said, "I can leave ..."

  "No." Prometheus stood a little taller than she and he nervously looked at her face. He took a deep breath and asked, "May I hold you?"

  Startled, Themis thought for a second and then nodded. Prometheus bent over and rested his head on her shoulder. His arms reached around her side and he pulled himself against her. Themis raised her hands awkwardly before deciding to place them on his back. When she did, Prometheus closed his eyes and wept.

  XCI

  THE MESSENGERS

  4 Years Before the End

  Every moment of every day saw the angel flitting about the world, planting ideas in one, diverting another. She helped a doctor's family flee to Eridia. She spurred on a Huban scientist's research into cryogenics. She stirred the nascent faith of an Attican politician. Yet she returned to the side of Corol Gaber. She had spent a century with this child's line. She could not bear to part with it near the end of all things.

  "Heads down!" the sergeant said.

  Corol complied. She pressed herself against the rubble and clapped her hand on her helmet to keep it in place. Cylon bullets ricocheted along the front of the supports and debris, but her squad was uninjured.

  The Messenger felt her fear and gave her encouragement. "You will survive."

  Corol sniffed and flipped the safety off her rifle. She crawled onto her belly and inched out from behind the pile. She lined her scope up with the destroyed vehicle down the street and waited for one of their black metal heads to appear. One did, and she squeezed the trigger.

  A single high-caliber round left her barrel and almost instantly struck the Cylon, exploding. The machine twitched and staggered into the open where other members of her squad began to eagerly open fire.

  "Get back," the being told her.

  Corol leapt behind cover just as more Cylons stood and began to shoot. Two of her squadmates were hit. One died before he hit the ground.

  "Watch it!" the sergeant yelled. "Frakking recruits!"

  The tender felt his fear, too. Tyria's military was spread thin and volunteers were taken from all sectors of s
ociety. The Cylons poured forth across the ocean in unending numbers. Battles raged along the continent's southern coast. Corol joined to safeguard her home.

  My Lord, she prayed, Please bless me and keep me. Let me stay safe and help my friends, too. If it is in your will and wisdom to give us victory, I thank you. I praise your holy name.

  The tender smiled at her. Despite all she had been through – poverty, foster care, war – Corol maintained her faith. The angel was happy to reward her for it.

  "You used to work at one of these places," Darro began. "Where should we look?"

  "I don't know," Thon Ahljaela answered. "They've changed a lot in the ten years since I've worked in one."

  "I've got something!"

  The pair ran down the hallway and into an office. One of their comrades found a machine that was still on. "Excellent," Darro said. He pulled a datacube from his pocket and set it on the desk. "Take what you can and let's go."

  Darro left the room and began shouting at the others. Thon stayed and looked over the woman's shoulder. "What's in there?"

  "Intelligence files, spy programs," she said. "Things like that." Ahljaela nodded and she smiled, "Have you ever wondered what the government has on you?"

  Thon raised his eyebrows and said, "What? No."

  She laughed and said, "You might be surprised. I looked up mine once." She whistled and Ahljaela knelt beside her.

  "Can we look me up?"

  "Sure," she tilted her head, "but they'll know to look for you if we do."

  He waved his hand