by Gene Stiles
“She is beautiful, is she not?” Carius ran his palm along the mirror-like, reflective surface of the fuselage, his sharp-chinned face bright with the pride surging through his tall, athletic body. “She is powered by a small Proto-Sun jet engine allowing her to travel as speeds upward of two thousand mile and hour. The four Grav-units under the wings allow for vertical takeoff and landing. She has built-in photo scanners fore and aft and is armed with two cannons. Her polished silver reflective body makes her nearly invisible in the air.”
“Beautiful and deadly.” Cronus studied each glistening detail of the eighty-foot long craft. With a fleet of these, he would control the skies of this world with an iron grip that none would dare defy. A thin smile slipped across his ruggedly handsome face as satisfied and grim as a murcat dinning on a fresh kill. “Impressive, Carius. How many of these are you building here?”
“We have the materials to create twenty of these models at present,” Carius answered, running a wide, thick-fingered hand through his wavy, mahogany colored hair. “We also have enough to manufacture five of the larger freighters you have ordered,” he was quick to add. “After that, we will have to await more shipments of metal and uridium from Nil. They have sent us little in recent months.”
“I shall see to that,” Cronus nodded, turning away from the hangers. “Your service is greatly appreciated and will be rewarded appropriately. I thank you. Please continue with your work.”
Cronus barely registered the deep bow of Carius as he strode toward his covered and cooled sled. His crimson leathers were hot in the desert sun even though he wore no shirt underneath. The salty sweat covered his heavily muscled arms and seeped beneath the soft inner lining of his vest. The irritation only fed the anger seething inside him. The Nil were becoming a serious problem. Their arrogance, their attitude of superiority and their growing demands infuriated him. It was well past time to do something about them.
He slid into the back seat of the oblong bubble, closing the transparent glass door behind him, grateful for the dark glass above him that tempered the brilliantly blazing sun. The cool air inside hit the beads of moisture on his tanned skin, sending a shivering chill down his body. A word to his driver and the sled turned and sped toward Atlantis. The delegation from Nil awaited him at the Great Pyramid. He deliberately lingered at the factory longer than need be. They could just sit until he got to them. Cronus knew what they wanted. He also knew they would never receive it. If they continued withholding imports, they would feel the full extent of his wrath. They would find out quickly what real power was.
Seshat tapped a steady, rhythmic beat on the oval cedar conference table with the tips of her long, slender finger. Her big, green-flecked hazel eyes were slitted by the fury simmering inside her. Shiny white teeth shown between her tightly clenched, thin pink lips, her small nostrils flaring with the quick, controlled breathing she fought to maintain. The high, normally pink cheeks set in her long oval face were the dark red that covered most of her stunning, exotic features. Long, tight curls of ebony hair flowed from her white, tubular headdress, over her gently sloped, copper shoulders and over the tightly wrapped, white silk dress, edged in gold brocade that highlighted every curve of her tall, shapely body. The square gold, red edged tiles of the shoulder width, tapered necklace she wore felt as heavy as the stone in her heart. The band of the burgundy and silver tiled belt cinched firmly around her tiny waist, fanning out to mid-thigh, pressed down on her hips like the anchor of a sailing ship.
“This is preposterous!” Her rage burned within her as she rose from her chair, standing with her arms quivering as she leaned upon the table. “Two hours we sit here. I believe it is time we returned home.”
Wadjet felt torn with inner conflict. Her stocky, curvaceous body quivered beneath the dark, blood red linen, edged in a wide, symbol-covered, silver band that wrapped over one shoulder and tightly around her generous, full-bodied curves. The implied insult from Cronus was difficult to digest. In this, she agreed with her Sister and Brother. However, the rest of these People treated her fairly and kindly. The unparalleled beauty of the golden city of Atlantis called to her soul. The freedom of expression shown in the spires and domes and the incredible homes she was invited warmly into was something new to her. The People here worked together to improve all aspects of their society and shared in the rewards. They sought to grow and expand their understanding of the entire world, not remain stagnant and closed off, content with hiding behind their gilded walls. Her gold-flecked jade eyes softly gazed upon her Sister as she reached out and placed a restraining hand upon her arm.
“I am sure it is not an intended affront, my Sister,” she said calmly, soothingly stroking her Sister’s skin. “Please give them the benefit of the doubt that the wait was unavoidable. Please be patient a little longer.”
“Their insolence will surely be punished by Sirius,” Seeker agreed, his baritone voice rumbling off the blue marble walls. The gargantuan paced the floor, his tree-trunk legs nearly cracking the granite tiles beneath his sandaled feet. A corset of gold-edged white tiles encircled his mammoth chest and narrow waist up to just beneath the bulging pectoral muscles below shoulders as broad as a main limb of the One Tree. Bands of symbol-inlaid gold encircled his monstrous biceps and arm-thick wrists. His bronzed skin glistened beneath the long banks of crystal lighting the room, his irritation evident in his pupiless black eyes. The fanned front of the silver, gold and black, symbol-covered, beaded belt that held the shiny, gold-banded, white linen skirt in place, tinkled like wind chimes with each hammered step.
“We should leave,” Seshat repeated, ignoring Wadjet’s plea as she headed for the huge, carved wooden doors at the end of the room.
Before she was halfway to the doors, they opened suddenly and Cronus walked in, accompanied by nine of the Twelve. Only Hyperion and Rhea did not attend, she because she had business elsewhere, him because he had the Wind Song to run. All were dressed in their official garb and robes. They settled around the table with Cronus at the head and the Trinity seated at the foot. Cronus made quick introductions then settled back in his well-padded, high-backed, black leather chair.
“I understand you are no longer content with our agreement,” Cronus started darkly, not bothering to apologize for keeping them waiting. He leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the padded arms, his fingers steepled before him. His wide-collared, ebony, silver-star encrusted robe of office lay open, exposing his black leathers beneath. His curly, fiery red hair surround his square-jawed head like a blazing corona, held from his broad forehead by a wide crown of pure gold. At the front of the band, directly in line with his straight, narrow nose, sat the tree-inlaid pyramid seal of Atlantis. His icy green eyes glistened with dangerous malice in the lights of the chamber as Cronus stared at the Nillian emissaries.
“We thank you for your audience, Lord Father,” Seshat intoned, using formality to bite back her outrage at the disrespectful contempt shown by these People. She lifted up her slender, long-fingered hands, spreading out the small turquois and white, gold-tipped wings, banded to her sinewy arms. Her large, golden-hazel eyes remained placid within her smooth, oval, pointed-chin face, careful not to reveal the distain filling her heart. Seshat fought to keep her singsong voice calm and cool as she continued to address the Twelve.
“We have traded with you in good faith for over ten years,” she stated evenly, her gaze encompassing all of the Atlantean. “We have allowed you to desecrate our lands with your uridium mines and foul-smelling processing plants. We have built housing for your People and granted you the use of our peasants. We have taught you how to weave fabrics from sheep and cotton and gifted to you the secret of silk. What Apophus, the Lord God, asks in return is no more than we have earned.”
“Lord God,” Iapetus harrumphed, his onyx eyes glittering in the light. “He who is too above us all too even grace Atlantis with his presence or speak for himself before us.”
“Blasphemy!” The giant, Seeker, ju
mped to his feet, shoving his chair out behind him, his deep voice rumbling off the marble walls. His mammoth muscles clenched to the point that the rune-covered, gold bands on his monstrous arms and wrists cut into his darkly bronze skin. “You will not speak of Him in such a tone!”
“Or what? You are in our house now.” Iapetus stood, his malefic baritone voice icy and savage, totally unimpressed by the size of the behemoth. He slipped his plain, ebony robe off his broad, flat shoulders and let it fall upon his chair. He flexed his powerfully muscled arms, planting his tree-trunk legs slightly apart on the granite floor. Black clad from calf-high boots to the tightly laced vest struggling to contain his bulging torso, Iapetus looked like the personification of a savage warrior.
“Iapetus! Hold!” Cronus ordered, raising his hand, more amused than angered by the exchange. “Return to your seat.”
Reluctantly, he eased himself back into his chair never shifting his gaze from the other man. He hated the air of superiority these Nillians displayed in their arrogance and actions. He wanted to wipe their smug smiles from their odd shaped faces. Instead, he obeyed his commander and kept himself quiet.
Seshat placed a restraining hand on her Brother’s wrist, nodding at him to reseat himself. Seeker stared at her as if her touch burned his flesh. For a moment, she feared he would ignore her silent request, setting in motion a series of events that could not be stopped. She breathed a deep sigh of relief as he nodded slowly and retook his place.
“We should remain calm,” she said tranquilly. “There is no need for insult or anger. The Lord God asks for only one thing. With all we have done, there should be no opposition to his petition.”
“We have kept our part of the bargain agreed upon by this Council, Apophus and the Trinity,” Themis replied, her voice firm, her full, ruby lips tight as she stood before the Table. The severely tight braid of her knee-length golden hair, the set of her stance and the coolness in her large, bright green eyes tempered her intoxicating beauty. “We have provided you the technology of the sleds, Proto-Sun power and Grav-units. You have light crystals brightening your city and teaching you our agricultural systems tripled your food growth. This is all we offered and we have kept our promise.”
“Yet you deprive us of weaponry for our self-defense,” Seshat insisted, her turquois wings fluttering as she pointed around the room at the council members. Though she spoke softly, the chips of jade in her eyes glinted like jewels in a sea of cinnamon as she spoke. “We must be content with spears and knives while you have rifles that kill with white fire and cannons that can melt mountains. Where is the equality in that?”
“Self-defense from what?” Oceanus asked in all seriousness. He ran a hammer-like hand unconsciously over his bald, darkly tanned, boulder-like pate. His dark brown eyes, near black against his mahogany skin, shown with kindly curiosity. His deep gentle voice held not a trace of malice or disrespect in his simple query.
“From the beasts of the field,” Seshat replied, her hidden anger diminished by the honest warmth she felt from the older man.
She witnessed, first hand, his love of the soil and growing things, his amicable, courteous patience while teaching the Izon how to tend the gardens. His wide nostrils would flare as he inhaled the banquet of aromas of a crop-laden field. He wide, dark lips spread in such a sweet smile that sun lit his rounded face and his eyes would close as he tilted his head into a summer rain. Seshat instinctively liked and trusted the man.
“And possibly from you,” Seeker broke in, his rumbling voice tense, his ire apparent in the chipping of his words.
“From us? We have never threatened you in any way,” Themis responded, her emerald eyes glittering in the bright lights, offended by the accusation. She tossed her long, blond braid over the gently sloping shoulder of her light green, leaf-patterned robe, brushing strands of hair from her face. “Why do you think you need protection from us?”
“You at this table may not be a direct menace,” Seeker growled, rising to stand like a mountain emerging from foamy sea. “And I say ‘may not’ for of this I am not convinced, but your emissary, Ramathus, surely is.”
“In what way?” Cronus questioned, his voice deceptively quiet.
“He questions the edicts of the Lord God and spreads dissent among our People.” Seeker quaked as he bit off each word, vibrating the entire table beneath his rock-like hands as he leaned against it. “He and his Aam interfere with just punishments of the Izon and speaks to them of sedition in their own language. This Ramathus thinks of himself and all Atlanteans as above the will of the Lord God, Apophus, and Sirius, the Creator, Himself! Only his weapons have prevented him from being flayed alive!”
Cronus rose to his feet with the fluidity of a coiling serpent preparing to strike at a dangerous adversary. His emerald eyes flashed with sparkling green lightning, his flaming curls flaring around his head like a blazing halo. At the edge of his narrowing, reddish vision, he noted Iapetus silently slip from his chair to stand behind him. A thick pernicious fog swirled around the chamber, a toxic hostility soaking the air. Cronus met the simmering giant’s black, sparking eyes with a withering, unwavering gaze. Long silent moments followed with only the sound of his own measured breathing touching his ears before he spoke.
“The Izon are a scourge upon the earth,” he spit like poisonous viper spewing acidic venom upon its prey. “I would see them cleansed from the surface of this world. I care not what you do to them. But,” he snarled, punctuating each word with a fist upon the table, “never threaten a citizen of Atlantis! The consequences of such action would be swift and dire for the Nil.”
“Then control your people,” Seeker rumbled darkly in return, the fury of Cronus rolling off his as a granite cliff would ignore the waves of a turbulent sea. “We will not tolerate your People inciting insurrection among our citizens!”
“There cannot be a volcano where there is not already a cauldron of lava under pressure,” Phoebe interjected, dropping a wall between the two behemoths. Seeker broke his gaze and stared at her with almost palatable distain. Her porcelain skin, waves of platinum hair, sensuous form and ruby lips were completely lost on the Nillian. “Do not blame Ramathus for the unhappiness of your People.”
“We will not arm people who suggest those weapons may be used upon our own People,” Cronus said with flat finality. “Such action would be preposterous.”
“Then there is nothing left to discuss,” Seshat replied, taking control of the situation. She nodded to her Sister and Brother to rise. “We shall pass on your decision to the Lord God for his judgement. If you have no objection, we shall stay for two more days to rest before returning home.” At the nod from Cronus, she said a simple thank you. With no further word, the Trinity exited the chamber and returned to their quarters escorted by two, armed Aam.
Wadjet entered the private quarters she was assigned within the Great Pyramid. Compared to the gold leaf covering the walls, embossed with vines and elegant patterns and inlaid with precious gems, in her private rooms in the pyramid of Nil, this chamber was spartan and drab. Her bedroom boasted a four-poster, richly carved, mahogany bed covered with layers of plush, white, gold and silver quilts and a canopy of purest white silk, edged with a wide band of ruby-red brocade. The bedstead here had an arched headboard of highly polished dark oak sculpted into the face of roaring lion. A relief of tall grasses graced a footboard made of the same beautiful wood. Broad, three-pointed, light green leaves connected by twisting vines covered the thick, feather-stuffed forest-green bedding. An eight-foot long vanity of red-tinged cedar etched with ancient runes stood against one wall at home. A five-foot tall arch of gold and silver gilded, ornate burnished metal surrounded the mirror mounted behind her table. In this room, a simple, but magnificently chiseled, dark oak adorned a small, five-drawered desk, backed by a wood-framed, four-foot looking glass.
Wadjet loved the feel of these quarters, the stylish dignity so different from her ornamented ostentatiousness in Nil. Exquisite tap
estries, artistically rendered with scenes of flowered meadows permeated with an incredible array of wildlife, hung from three of the red-veined marble walls. Clear crystal, floor to ceiling, self-tinting windows covered the fourth wall overlooking the sparkling spires and domes of the city of Atlantis.
She lay on her bed, propped by piles of plump deep-green and yellow pillows staring longingly out on the bustling streets so full of vitality and life. A pall hung over her own city like a dark, stormy cloud, sapping the life from her People. Atlantis rejoiced in the individual, the new and the exploration of this majestic blue world. Apophus rejected such ideas, imposing his own will and desires upon the city, keeping their borders small enough to be controlled from his golden throne.
Wadjet knew why she remained quiet during the tense discussions and shouting matches with the council. Especially knowing what she did of life in Nil, she agreed with the Atlanteans. It would be very unwise to arm Apophus and his minions - including her Brother and Sister. With such weapons, they would drive Ramathus and his People from the Nillian lands and cease trade with Atlantis. Knowing how much they needed the uridium, such rash action would surely lead to war.
And, she admitted to herself only, she could not imagine her life without the gallant, kind and wonderful, Ra in her life. His strength, integrity and honest concern for both the Izon and the People filled her heart with a love she never expressed for fear of losing him. She saw his closeness with his stunning First Mate, Raet, and the flirtatious Captain, Isis. How could she hope to compete with such incredible women?
