by Bob Mayer
“He said we have to make the decisions from here on out,” Moroi said. “Which brings us back to the immediate problem.” She indicated the red stone under their feet. “If we do what the Airlia did, here, in the same way the Airlia did it, how are we any different? But.” She nodded at Orlock who was standing silent on the edge of the circle of arguing men. “Some of us have lost family to the Airlia. They may feel differently.”
“I lost my world to them,” Bren said. “I am not inclined to forgive.”
“Are you inclined to kill?” Drusa asked. “Will that change something for you? Change our reality?”
“You ask too many questions,” Bren muttered.
“I am against violence of any sort,” Drusa said. She gestured at King Cetic. “He is the one who will rule. He, and the other men, have their blood lust up. Most of the women also desire vengeance. This must be decided soon by Cetic or the crowd will take the choice from him. Those types of resolutions are never good.”
“What say you?” Moroi asked Bren.
“The Airlia are our enemy,” Bren said, but she did not meet the Nagil’s eyes. “They enslaved us. I do not believe they deserve mercy.”
“Your words do not match your tone,” Drusa noted. “You have doubts?”
Bren was thoughtful. “Arcturus asked me many questions while we journeyed together. I’ve had time to ruminate on them when I traveled with Orlock and while we went to Isis and returned. If there is one thing Artcurus has made me realize, it’s that I don’t know as much as I think I know.”
“Perhaps,” Drusa said, “the people should know what we don’t know?”
Moroi nodded. “An interesting perspective, Healer. Come. Let us speak to the decision maker.”
King Cetic watched them approach warily. He stepped away from the men. “What do you want?”
“Our say,” Moroi told him.
“And what say you?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply as he nodded at the Blue Cloak. “She will preach mercy, as her people always do.”
“I believe in it,” Drusa said.
“And you, Nagil?” Cetic asked Moroi. “Mercy? Did the Airlia ever show your people the same?”
“No, they didn’t,” Moroi acknowledged. As Cetic turned toward Bren, Moroi held up a hand and continued. “But.”
“’But’ what?” Cetic asked.
“Their blood is my blood,” Moroi said. “Your blood is my blood. I stand between Airlia and human.”
Cetic shrugged. “So?”
“I would like to think it possible that at least one side act the better,” Moroi said.
Cetic stared up into her red eyes for several long seconds. Without saying another word to the Nagil he shifted to the last woman. “And what of you, Walker?” Cetic asked. “You are the one who got me started down the path that has ended here.”
“I did,” Bren said. “But why are we in a rush? Let cooler heads prevail so we can make a decision when—”
“’We’ can make a decision?” Cetic said. “Are you now in command?”
“No, King,” Bren said. “Apologies. But much has happened that we don’t understand.”
Cetic indicated the raucous crowd. “They will not wait until their hearts cool and their heads are clear. I do not have to make a decision on the fate of the Airlia; I can simply order my guards to stand down.”
“Some of them are my guards,” Moroi said.
Cetic gave a cold smile. “Do you think they could hold off the crowd by themselves?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “But the three of you have given me an idea. I want to be a just ruler. A fair one. Let us see what the people say.”
“May I get a chance to speak?” Moroi asked. “Some of them are my people.”
“You have made that point once,” Cetic said with some anger in his voice. “Do not push it, Nagil.” He gave a brusque nod. “But you may speak. Briefly.”
Cetic walked to the top of the Sphinx’s head and raised his powerful arms. “Silence!”
Gradually, from those on the head of the Sphinx, spreading through the guards in the courtyard to those in the amphitheater, the crowd fell quiet.
Cetic’s voice carried to all. “We have won a great victory. There are many here who used to fight each other. Citizens of Atlantis who served the Airlia who we viewed as our enemy. Mercenaries from the Wilds who fought for money. Tribes and villages who have blood feuds lasting generations. All brought together in this moment. I must decide now what to do with our prisoners. But I have been advised that perhaps the people should contribute. And those with differing opinions given a chance to voice them.” He indicated for Moroi to step forward. “Our allies, the Nagil, should have a voice.”
Moroi faced the crowd. “Great Alliance. We have indeed won a victory. One none of us thought possible. What do we make of this victory? How do we view it? Do we paint it with blood? To what end? How will that make us different than the Airlia?”
“We must have vengeance!” someone yelled from the crowd.
“Why?” Drusa asked, joining Moroi. “Will that bring back the dead?”
“What of the Tallied?” someone else demanded.
“Your raise an excellent point,” Moroi said. She indicated the cluster of Airlia. “Perhaps, we can trade them for the Tallied?”
That brought a murmur.
“If we kill them now, we don’t know what our options are,” Moroi continued. “We have peace in this moment.” She spread her arms. “I too desire vengeance. But I also desire peace. Perhaps for the moment, we show the Airlia the mercy we were never shown. They remain our prisoners and--”
The angry rumble from the crowd rose to a pitch where her next words were drowned out.
Cetic raised his hands and the people grudgingly quieted.
“Bring up the crosses.”
The crowd roared its approval.
Drusa pulled her blue cloak tighter around her and walked to the stairs are the rear of the head of the Sphinx. Moroi followed her.
Markus put his arm around Bren: “Remember all we lost.”
“I remember,” Bren said.
Two crosses were brought up and raised on the head of the Sphinx. A pair of Airlia were randomly chosen and secured to them. A number of Atlantean citizens who had witnessed the ritual were more than eager to participate and quickly wrapped the limbs of the two with wet leather straps.
King Cetic waved the civilians off the head when their task was complete. He pointed with his sword at one of the struggling aliens, then the other. “This is the price they pay for all they have inflicted on us. We will—” he paused as he, and the amphitheater was lost in dark shadow as the sun was blocked out.
A mothership was passing overhead.
THE RECKONING
LIONS HEAD, ATLANTIS, EARTH15
The mothership continued to fly by slowly, passing over the seven walls to the open land on the southeast side of the city. It descended until it landed outside the city on the space field.
“If they have not attacked already,” Cetic said to the other leaders on top of the Sphinx, “then they want to talk first.” He indicated the captive Airlia. “We have and they don’t want to destroy their own city. We, on the other hand, will have no such scruples. There are powerful weapons in the duat we can use to destroys the Citadel-Tower. Cut them loose and bind their hands,” Cetic ordered his guards.
Cetic quickly issued more orders, deploying the Great Alliance to defend the city while he would take a small contingent outside the wall to meet this new threat.
*****
In the sphere, high atop the Citadel-Tower, Moroi looked at the control console in dismay. She had Excalibur, but not the knowledge to wield it effectively. Orlock, following Cetic’s orders, had sent Nagil elders into the Roads of Rostau, to the duat containing the weapons of the Airlia. They were to stand by, ready to detonate the weapons if need be and destroy the Citadel-Tower. Orlock was with Cetic, heading out to meet the mothership.
&
nbsp; Moroi could see what was happening from here. But do nothing.
“Arcturus?” she whispered. “Are you there?”
She pictured him in her mind. Repeated.
But there was only silence in the sphere.
******
King Cetic deployed his small formation facing the mothership, although the overall mood was one of resignation than martial fervor. He noted that none of the citizens of Atlantis had marched out of the gates with them and that the mercenaries who’d switched sides with the Airlia defeat were nowhere to be scene, most likely scurrying home to wait this out.
Orlock had told him he had the capability to destroy the Citadel-Tower, so he had that on his side as well as the Airlia prisoners, who were clustered directly behind him.
The belly of the massive ship was barely touching the ground and the air around crackled with energy from the STL drive.
So far, there was no sign of movement from the ship.
Cetic saw no tactical options other than to wait.
The uneven standoff was interrupted as a MDAC flew in from the south and landed between the Great Alliance contingent and the mothership. The top hatch clanged open and Arcturus climbed out. He walked down the side of the craft. Even more surprising was when Anubis followed him, her robe splotched with blood, limping slightly. Then Isengrim clambered her way out of the MDAC and stood by Arcturus’s side.
The old man leaned on his staff and looked over at Cetic, Orlock, Markus, Bren and the others. Anubis stood next to him, her eyes downcast. Arcturus didn’t say anything. He turned and faced the mothership. Isengrim sat on her haunches next to him.
A crack appeared in the side of the ship near one end. A hatch slid up, then a long black metal gangplank extended. An Airlia appeared in the hatch, a female in a grey utility uniform, but she was not armed. She raised one hand; six fingers spread wide.
There was a confused rustle in the ranks of the Great Alliance and the Airlia prisoners as a human woman appeared next to the Airlia and then a burly, bearded man on the other side. Both groups stared at each other as if trying to understand something that made little sense.
The frozen tableau was broken as an old black Labrador retriever bolted out of the hatch and down the gangplank. It reached the tall grass and proceeded to urinate as if it had held this for a very long time. Its snout was tinged with gray.
Isengrim trotted up to it and once the dog’s priority was taken care of, the two sniffed each other.
“Welcome,” Arcturus called out. He walked forward, leaving Anubis behind. Reaching the dog and wolfram, he put a hand on Isengrim’s head and one on the dog’s. “And so, it begins,” he murmured in a voice only the two beasts could hear, but they seemed to understand
He left them and walked up the ramp. He nodded at the Airlia. “Nyx.”
“How do you know my name?” Nyx was surprised. “What is going on here?”
Arcturus had shifted to the bearded man. “You must be Yakov.”
The Russian folded his arms. “I am. Who are you? How do you know us?”
But Arcturus was now focused on Leahy. “Welcome home, sister. It has been a very long time.”
THE ANCIENTS
NORTH VALLEY, EARTH15
They met in a small clearing in the forest, just off of the Lion’s Road, not far from the North Wall. Drops of water occasionally dripped from leaves after last night’s rain. Arcturus sat on a log, his cloak pulled tight around him, puffing on his pipe as he surveyed those standing in a semi-circle in front of him: Cetic, Orlock, Moroi, Bren, Markus, Drusa, Anubis and the contingent from the mothership: Yakov, Leahy and Nyx. Isengrim and George were somewhere not far away, exploring the forest together.
“I often feel that things go in circles,” Arcturus said. He pointed the stem of the pipe at Bren. “We first met in a place like this, but farther to the south.”
“You have spun enough riddles,” Bren said. “I’ve spoken with Yakov. They came from a world like this, freed from the Airlia by my comrades at the cost of their own lives. Unfortunately, a Swarm Battle Core showed up and they had to escape. But why come here? And why did you call her—” she indicated Leahy—“your sister?”
“There are times to break a circle,” Arcturus said. “This is not the end, nor is it the beginning of the end. But it is the end of the beginning and the start of a new path.”
Leahy walked forward and sat next to Arcturus. “What you see,” she said, “is just my latest outer appearance. I was on my planet as long as Arcturus has been here.”
“I call her my sister,” Arcturus said, “but it is not in the way you think of sister. We are of the same birth, long ago.” He looked at Anubis. “Long before your people evolved. After so much time, the Airlia believe their own lie, that they created humans. That is not true. Airlia and human are branches of the same tree.”
“How do you know this?” Moroi asked. “Tell us who you are, Arcturus.”
“I am of the Ancients,” Arcturus said. He nodded toward Leahy. “We both are.”
“When you say ‘of’,” Drusa said, “does that mean you are not an Ancient yourself?”
“No, we are not,” Arcturus said. “We were made by the Ancients.”
“’Made’?” Drusa repeated.
Leahy’s skin rippled and she transformed from an older woman into a middle-aged man. “This is what I looked like a hundred years ago when people knew me as Nikola Tesla. The appearance is changed by—” she paused, thinking how to explain it to the array of technical sophistication in front of her—“manipulating the tiny machines my skin is made of.”
“You are nanotech robots,” Nyx said. “It is forbidden by Airlia law to make a nanotech copy of our own species.”
“We were not made by the Airlia,” Arcturus reminded her. “We were made by the Ancients. Only our exterior is nanotech. You would not understand our interior, so let us leave it at that. There were a number of us in the beginning. I do not know how many are left.”
“Why?” Drusa asked. “Why did they make you? Where are the Ancients? What happened to them?”
Arcturus tapped out the pipe, cleaning out the bowl. “At our beginning there were some among the Ancients who realized they had sown their doom. That they had a deep flaw that was too late to correct and would consume not only them, but every other sentient race they met among the stars.” He pointed at Cetic. “Your red daggers.” He indicated Anubis. “In your mothership, does it not have a Hall of Honor listing warships lost in battle?” He looked at each of them. “Most of you are armed. That is not a sign of intelligent life.”
Cetic grumbled. “We must defend ourselves.”
“Is that what you were doing just now on the top of the Red Sphinx? Defending yourself? The Airlia take the Tally under the premise of defending themselves. Where does it end?” Arcturus put the pipe in a pocket inside his cloak. “The Ancients were a powerful empire. Much more powerful than the Airlia are now. They were spread over a vast distance. This was one of their worlds.”
Leahy spoke up, indicating Yakov. “Our planet also. In fact, the Ancients not only occupied the planet, they had a massive space station for their fleet in orbit around your sun. There are still small pieces of it preserved in space in what is now called the asteroid belt. I’m sure the Swarm Battle Core that attacked found those traces as it passed through.” As she spoke, her face flowed back to the Leahy form.
“And now we come to it,” Arcturus said. “Decisions. There is another mothership inbound. This one from Orion Fleet. The Airlia seek to expand their Teardrop program believing it recently succeeded. However, as I have explained to you—” he pointed at Anubis—“that is not what happened.
“Mister Yakov, it might give you some solace to know that although your planet was reaped, it wasn’t destroyed. And the Swarm Battle Core was consumed by its own reaping. Most of the humans it brought on board were infected with a virus. This contaminated the Core and rather than spread the infection, the Core flew i
tself into the star.”
“The Danse,” Yakov muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Arcturus continued. “This is the first time a Scale species has stopped a Battle Core. Interestingly, they did it by sacrificing themselves.” He turned to Anubis and the Airlia. “Your Teardrop program didn’t succeed in stopping the Core that attacked Orion Fleet Base. When that Core, all the Cores, realized one of their number was gone, all were recalled.”
“Wait a moment,” Yakov said, still catching up. “Does that mean those I left behind are still alive?”
Leahy answered. “You refer to your friend, Turcotte? Most likely not. But the Facility should be safe along with the metabols. There are undoubtedly small enclaves of humans struggling to live in various places. Nosferatu and Nekhbet may well be alive. However, the nuclear exchanges among the humans have caused environmental turmoil. Survival is difficult under those circumstances. Isn’t it odd, even while facing an external threat, nations still fought each other?”
“I must go back,” Yakov said.
“How you know this of the Swarm?” Bren asked.
“I have a way of tapping into their communications,” Arcturus said.
Despite her current predicament, Anubis had to ask about this. “How? Is there a way we can track them? Learn where they will attack. You said they were recalled. Where?”
“There is a way you can avoid the Swarm,” Arcturus indirectly answered.
“How?” Anubis asked.
“You’ll have to figure that out,” Arcturus said. “It’s not something that can be told.” He stood. “Which brings us to the results of choices already made.” He pointed. “King Cetic, you had a chance to show mercy, but decided not to. You gave in to the desire for revenge. Which is not a sign of intelligent life. An eternal act for a momentary emotion.” As Cetic angrily muttered something under his breath, Arcturus went on. “But we know that if the Airlia had prevailed, you, King Cetic and your chieftains, would be on top of the Red Sphinx at this very moment, crucified.” He glanced at Anubis. “Am I not correct?”
