Colony - Seeds of War (Colony - The Saga of Earth's First Civilizaton Book 4)

by Gene Stiles

  “The Book of Sirius is replete with stories of Atlan,” he boomed, opening the thick, leather-bound book before him. The pages were made of an unknown, thin, white metal covered with strange symbols in black, bound on large rings of the same metal. He turned them as he spoke, his huge fingers caressing each line. “They talk of the world that gave birth to the People; a planet once green and blue with oceans that spanned the globe. It is said that mankind turned away from the Creator, Sirius, using their technology to supplant His command of nature. In His anger, he ripped the air from the world and cleansed the evil from the land. Those who survived were the Chosen sent to breathe life into a new world, Cydonia, a paradise of beauty and boundless living creatures. The People thrive there, integrating technology with Nature’s natural order and spreading their seeds to other worlds throughout the galaxy.”

  “There is one imperative given by Sirius to the People in exchange for His many blessings,” Seeker continued, his ebony eyes burning with fervent black fire as he turned his gaze upon the Atlanteans. “He commands we search for the Lost Colony of Atlan and bring them home, if they still live, to share in the bounty of His love. After eons, we finally found our way back to the solar system of our birth. You must be that Lost Colony. His glory be praised.”

  “Thank you, Seeker,” Seshat smiled, standing to place both hands on the rock of his shoulders. “Sirius be praised.”

  “Sirius be praised,” he repeated before seating himself and closing the volume before him with careful reverence.

  “The Priestess, Wadjet, is the Protector of our sciences,” Seshat said, her right hand extended to the obsidian-haired woman sitting next to her. “She will explain how we came to be on Terra. My Sister,” Seshat nodded slightly, taking her place at the table.

  Like all the Nillian People seen so far, Wadjet had long, black hair that tumbled down from an oddly shaped head to the middle of her back in softly flowing waves. She wore a wrap of shiny red linen, edged with a wide band of patterned gold, which draped over one shoulder, angling across her heavy, full breasts, around her slender waist, encircling her ample, curvaceous hips and down her shapely, well-muscled legs almost to the floor. Sandals of crimson covered her smooth feet, crisscross-laced up her calves, their tops hidden beneath the folds of her elegant gown. A broad belt of pure white, edged in gold, surrounded her waist, tied in a knot beneath her navel, the two ends falling almost to her knees. Around her elongated neck hung a heavy neckless made of overlapping plates of red-edged gold, inlaid with sparking white jewels. It was so wide it covered half of her shoulders, falling over her upper chest, stopping just short of her breasts. Her lips, ruby red, full and sensuous, spread in a welcoming smile across an almost-round face that glowed with beauty and kindness. Eyes of jade flecked with gold, huge and almond-shaped, twinkled with excitement beneath thin, upward pointing, black eyebrows. The effect against her glistening copper skin was absolutely stunning.

  She wore a headdress artistically rendered with a pattern of a lifelike wild cat with eyes of sparkling blue gems. Its snarling, open-mouthed face sat on clawed paws that fell over the top of her forehead almost to her eyebrows. It seemed as if the vicious beast was about to leap onto the cedar table to attack and protect its owner should she be threatened.

  “First, I would like to thank the Lord God, Apophus, for inviting our lost brethren to this table.” She bowed deeply at her Lord, which he returned with a magnanimous nod of his head. “Second, I would thank Sirius for keeping his children safe here and sending them to be reunited with us. Lastly,” she added with a wave that encompassed the Atlanteans seated across the table from her, “I would like to thank our new friends for finding us and to welcome you to our wonderful city.”

  Her emerald eyes fell upon the Captain, Ramathus, the glint sparkling in his sky-blue eyes and the quirk of his sweet smile. She felt somehow drawn to this handsome stranger, his alluring air of confidence and command, his peculiar accent. She sensed an electric current flowing between them she could not yet fathom, but something her intellect yearned to explore. It troubled her for she had never experienced such and immediate connection with anyone and she did not know what to do with it.

  Apophus clapped his hands, chuckling with merriment. Of course, the Nillians joined in the applause, adding ‘Amen’ and ‘Praise Sirius’ to their acclimations. The Atlanteans embarrassedly nodded their heads slightly and gave their thanks to the crowd.

  “I fear I am not of the religious bent, though I recognize the hand of the Creator in the universe around us,” Wadjet admitted, her hand planted firmly on the red, leather-bound book in front of her. “I am a woman of history and science. Our history is eons long - well documented in crystals, reliefs and books kept on our home world in the vast Library of Cydonia. These three volumes contain the primary tenants of our civilization. I carry the Book of History, a timeline of the Cydonian society and the record of our lives on Terra. My Brother, Seeker, carries the Book of Sirius, the writings of the Priests and Prophets of the Creator, Sirius, and His Commandments by which we live. My Sister, Seshat, carries the Book of the Universe, the story of our lives, culture and our expansion to other worlds.”

  “I shall not bore you with a history so long,” Wadjet smiled kindly, her emerald-gold eyes shimmering in the warm light of the room. She brushed an errant lock of midnight hair away from her pink cheeks and tucked it behind her almost pointed ear. “What is of great import is the how, when and why we stand before you.”

  Iapetus listened to the three Nillians with only half his attention. The majority of his covert scrutiny was on the Lord God and the rest of his People gathered within the chamber. His onyx eyes slowly and secretly scanned the room, paying careful heed to the reactions of the others as the Priest and Priestess spoke. His first observation was how quiet and reticent the boisterous Apophus remained as they addressed the Atlanteans. The deference he showed to the Trinity belied the tightness of the downward turned, thin, red-painted lips and the narrowing of his night-black eyes. His pointed chin rested in the palm of his massive hand, his elbow planted firmly on the crimson padding on the arm of his throne.

  “When we, at last, spread our society to other planets and solar systems,” Wadjet continued, her arms wide, her ample lips beaming with joy, “we were given a Primary Directive, to find the world of Atlan, the home of Creation, and to search for the Lost Colony of the People. Each time we found a new system, we sent out scout ships in hopes of discovering the place of our birth.”

  “We are the descendants of one such ship.”

  The Atlanteans exploded into an unrestrained babble of animated murmurs and a flurry of enthusiastic questions. So loud was the noise that it echoed off the granite walls, making the sounds unintelligible. Wadjet stood like a willow caught in a hurricane, unable to speak or answer any of the myriad queries thrown at her before they were torn away by the winds of words. She waited patiently until the furor died down enough for her to raise a hand begging for silence.

  “I shall do my best to answer your questions,” she said softly. “I know you have many, but please, one at a time.”

  “Does this mean you have a starship?” Coeus stood quickly, leaning over the table on his arms. His hazel eyes blazed with excitement at the prospect, imagining all that could be learned from such a vessel. His tall, lanky body quivered, hoping beyond hope for the chance to walk its halls.

  “Alas, no,” Wadjet sighed dejectedly. “On our journey here, our ship was hit by a meteor. Damaged and in dire trouble, we crashed into the mountains. Almost half of our two-hundred-man company died on impact. Our ancestors barely escaped with their lives before the vessel exploded in an enormous ball of blue fire and thick smoke. Most of what we brought with us was lost along with the crew. We, like you, are stranded here.”

  A collective gasp rolled over the envoys, their murmurs becoming sullen and quiet. Coeus dropped into his chair as if a boulder fell on shoulders. He buried his narrow, sharp-chinned face into his
hands, covering his disappointed tears.

  “How long?” Phoebe whispered, her pale blue eyes damp with unshed sadness. “How long have you been here?”

  “Our Book tells us we arrived here some twenty-five thousand years ago,” Wadjet replied kindly. “Since then, we have tried to rebuild our society here on Terra. The road has been long and arduous without the technology we had onboard. Luckily, many of our Books and crystals survived. Our knowledge was not lost, only our ability to replicate it.”

  “Maybe we could help with that,” Captain Isis interjected, standing in her body-hugging, crimson-leather breeches, a billow-sleeved blouse of shimmering silver barely covering the rise of her ample breasts so deep did the laced V-cut in the front fall. What it did not cover remained hidden by the cascade of her wavy auburn hair over her smooth shoulders, held back from her sea-green eyes by an ornately tooled, white leather headband. Her lush, ruby lips were so pursed in concentration, her eyes so intent upon the trio that she failed to notice the stern, angry glare she received from Iapetus.

  “Maybe,” Wadjet replied wistfully, her fingers tracing the patterns etched on the leather cover before her. “However, access to our library is restricted to only our Priests and Priestesses and, of course, the Lord God. Even if we were to decide to allow you entrance into those venerated halls, I doubt you would be able to read the works. They are in an ancient language that few can understand. It would take decades to teach you just how to read it let alone how to interpret the information contained within.”

  “If I may,” Apophus politely interrupted. “We have discussed much this day. Allow all of us to digest what we have heard. Our guests need to be assigned quarters and given time to rest for a spell. Afterward, we shall give you a tour of our home before inviting you to the evening meal.”

  “We thank you, but we have quarters on our vessels,” Iapetus rumbled. “We need to return and inform our crews of all we have gathered from you.” He did not add that the ships were under orders to send in Aam if they did not return by nightfall.

  “Ah, your wondrous ships! So much I would ask about them,” Apophus grinned, back to his light-hearted self. “Please feel free to rejoin your crews, but I insist you return to share our dinner and that you stay in our home for the night. Do not worry. You will be assigned the most elaborate of quarters and you will have many attendants to serve your every whim!” He laughed his boyish laugh and clapped his hands. Izon rushed to attend him as he rose from his throne, taking his blue-tipped staff in his hand. “It is done then. We shall speak more at that time. Oh, so much I shall learn from you. It will be just grand! I promise!”

  Apophus turned away from the Atlanteans, the Izon careful to keep his sheer white robe from touching the ground as he exited the chamber. Iapetus felt an itch on the back of his thick neck. Something felt wrong here, very important and dangerous to the People. He must know what it was. Unsatisfied, Iapetus and the others hastened off the pyramid toward the docks, a turbulent undertone to their mumbled conversations.

  “I witnessed little in the way of technology in their society,” Coeus muttered, sitting on an ocean-green, leather divan in the Captain’s chambers of the Morning Star. His long fingers steepled in front of him, his high brow furrowed with trepidation, he stared into the dark brown, swirled grains of the floorboards. “Their lighting is provided by the sunshine and torchlight. I saw nothing in the way of machinery or weaponry. If they truly come from the stars, we should see some sign of technological advancement.”

  “You are correct, my love,” Phoebe nodded, sitting next to her husband with her shapely, leather-clad legs stretched out in front of her. Her head rested on the back of the sofa, her cool blue eyes closed and her platinum blond hair hanging to the floor behind the couch. She looked more at ease than she had all day, thankful to be far from the greedy eyes of Apophus. “Their transport seems to be provided by muscle power. They use written books instead of storage devices. They carry swords, whips and knives. I saw no blasters, rifles or pistols.”

  “Even if their ship was destroyed,” Captain Astraeus, his onyx skin covered with a fine sheen of sweat, agreed, his booming base voice rumbling like rolling thunder from his seat on the long, moss-green couch across the room, “they should have retained some of their equipment. What happened to those items they said survived the destruction? Why did they not salvage parts from the wreckage and recreate some of their tech?”

  “And there is this,” Ramathus added, his blue eyes icy, touched by the seething anger simmering in the pit of his soul. “Without some kind of device such as we use, how were those massive stones moved that make up their pyramid? How were those gigantic pillars created and put in place? I believe that jackal, Apophus, is lying to us. Does he take us for fools?”

  “They are definitely hiding something.” Iapetus grumbled from the padded, black leather of the Captain’s Chair offered graciously by Ramathus. His thick fingers drummed out a disjointed rhythm on the polished teak of the arms. His ebony eyes glistened in the crystal lights, a river of lines crossing his wide forehead. “They deny us access to their library, to their science and their history. What are they not telling us?”

  Captain Isis curled like a murcat on the sofa next to Astraeus, her cherry red boots tossed on the floor next to her. Her quiet demeanor and pursed, ruby red lips belied the tremors sparkling along every nerve ending of her lithe, sensuous body. Her shining auburn hair flowed around her shoulders, over the high rise of her chest and down to the golden buckle of her tooled, red belt. She listened intently to the comments and concerns of her brethren and she concurred with their assessments. However, her sharp mind thought more on the attitudes of the Nillian People and plight of the Izon than on the lack of technology. For such an allegedly advanced society, they sat themselves up as Gods and treated an obviously intelligent species as callously as cattle. Surely, they met other lifeforms as they spread among the galaxy. Did they subjugate them as well, thinking themselves superior to all other living thing? If so, how would they view the Atlanteans? As brothers or as another inferior race? They would learn a valuable but bloody lesson if they entertained such a thought.

  “We should take no action that could compromise our mission,” Coeus cautioned, breaking her train of thought. “We need the uridium. It is vital to all of Atlantis. I believe we should give them a few days to show us more. We are promised a tour. Surely, there is more to their pyramid that just the compound we visited. Let us see what they share. There is much we could learn.”

  “My husband is correct.” Phoebe lifted her head, brushing her pearly hair from her soft, oval face. Her full, red lips pinched above gentle curve of her chin, she gazed over the Captains and the Council members.

  “Remember why we are here. Let us gather more intelligence on the People before making any rash decisions that could threaten our objective. If I can tolerate that filthy pig, Apophus, staring at me like a piece of venison to be devoured,” she shuddered, “the rest of you can constrain your concerns until we know more.”

  “As much as I would rather choke the life out of that presumptuous, flatulent pretender,” Iapetus replied with a low growl, knotting his mammoth hands into boulder-like fists, “I am forced agree. I do command you all to be vigilant and to push the boundaries our hosts set before us. Just to make sure they know what they are up against, let us reveal some of our power to them.”

  “Cronus will be very upset,” Isis said with an impish, lopsided grin lighting her twinkling green eyes.

  “Why is that?” Ramathus wondered curiously.

  “His title has been usurped,” she replied playfully, her mischievous laughter sweeping the chamber, infecting all within. “He is but the lowly Lord Father. Here we have met the Lord God, himself!”

  Chapter XV

  Rhea’s body shivered with tremors she could not stop. Even the bright red and yellow flames blazing in the stone hearth of the rustic cabin could not dispel the icy grip of the frozen hand that crush
ed her rapidly beating heart. She huddled in the corner of the mahogany, down-padded loveseat, her dancer’s legs pulled tight against her chest by the clutching embrace of her arms. Her quivering chin rested upon her upraised, tan-leather clad knees, a steady stream of salty tears falling from her sky-blue eyes leaving a river of tracks upon her reddened cheeks. She held her full pink lips pressed firmly together to keep the sobs stuck in her lungs from bursting from her constricted throat. Her uncombed honey-blond hair cascaded in wild disarray over the arms of the teal, loose-sleeved blouse covering her slumped shoulders. Rhea stared into the demon eyes of the glowing embers searching for answers she knew she would not find. Something to stem the unholy terror swirling in the pit of her tortured soul.

  “What can I do to help you, my dear Rhea?” Hyperion asked worriedly, wrapping her in a warm Izon blanket. He stepped around the divan and drew a cushioned armchair up in front of her. He handed her a steaming cup of sweet green tea, his chipped jade eyes deeply disquieted by her long silence. His normally smiling, almost feminine lips stretched across his chiseled, handsome face, pinched tightly together with the helpless anguish swelling his heart. He reached up and tenderly brushed strands of damp blond hair from her cheek, softly stroking her beautiful face. It tortured Hyperion to see her this way, yet he could not think of anything he could do to stem her tears.