Marik’s irritation surfaced and he jerked upright, “We have no knowledge of Terran explosives! How are we to know whether the devices that Travlor’s men use can even be moved?”
Copying Marik’s earlier posture, Ni-Cio rested his elbows on his knees, “You designated a tactical study group. Within that group, one of the teams has acquired a comprehensive knowledge of explosives. They will pass that information to every volunteer so that they will have an intimate understanding of Terran armament. The volunteers will be able to recognize whether the bombs can be moved or even dismantled.”
Marik sighed and Ni-Cio hurried on. “In regard to your other questions, there is no mathematical certainty of the success of anything we undertake. However, I argue strongly against picking and choosing the tunnels we hope to guard. Every passage is a question mark. Some will stand; others will not. That is a foregone conclusion. It is impossible to discern the end result. Therefore, the point becomes moot. Every tunnel must be guarded. And since we cannot afford a higher sacrifice, redundancy is out of the question. Only one person can be spared to guard each exit.”
“Your logic is faultless, which is why you are to follow me as Council Leader.” He saw Ni-Cio start to object and he rushed on, “I know your heart, Ni-Cio. You have never wanted the position, but you are the only choice. The others have always looked to you for guidance.”
“Let us not talk of this now. We have other worries,” Ni-Cio started to rise, but Marik held him back.
“There is another decision we must make,” Marik shifted uncomfortably. “Should neither of us come through this battle alive, who else can we designate?”
Ni-Cio’s eyes went dark. It was a thought he had never considered. He felt cold all over. The thought of never seeing Daria again almost made him sick. He shrugged, “I cannot help you. This is not something I have even considered, but apparently, you have.” He turned to his leader, “What are your thoughts?”
“I lean toward Rogert,” Marik glanced at his protégé.
Ni-Cio nodded, “He is an excellent choice. Should things not go our way, he will be a steady hand to guide people through the aftermath.”
Marik shook his head and hoisted his body from the stone bench. He felt as though he were moving through sludge. “In the coming days, I will depend even more strongly upon your counsel. I would ask that you make a list of qualifications unique to the tunnel detail. It is an odious task I ask of you. However, before too many Atlanteans step forward, it would be helpful to have a breakdown of requirements. Thus will the field of volunteers be narrowed.”
“I will have the list within the hour.”
Marik left Ni-Cio’s company. He felt as though he was drowning in sadness. His thoughts flowed back to the seated figure,
“Your quick response is appreciated…our time runs out…”
He could feel the slow disintegration of his powers. As each second rounded into another hour, Travlor was keenly aware of the passage of time, for with it came the inescapable corrosion of age. It was an issue that, until now, had never been a consideration. With so much time stretched carelessly behind him, he was more determined than ever to wring the most from the time that remained.
The lightning growth of his son’s abilities did not disturb him. It would still be a while before Evan realized his full potential, and as yet, he posed no substantial threat. Travlor knew that once Atlantis was taken, they would be well on their way toward his ultimate goal, a goal for which he had groomed Evan since earliest childhood.
As for his current ambitions, he could see that his army was nearing readiness. He chuckled as he watched a cadre of soldiers sweep through combat maneuvers. He was quite pleased with the caliber of men he had hired. Standing in the planked shade of Evan’s dilapidated porch, he announced his decision, “The offensive launches in less than a week.”
The drills he had developed were being executed to near perfection. Every soldier had proven that he could perform splendidly whether underwater in the submersibles or on land and his captains had honed their squad’s timing to the split second. Travlor was ready to unveil his battle plans.
The boards creaked as he entered the squalid cabin. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wooden doorframe. Studying his son seated at his computer, Travlor elected to share his news, “It is time to summon a meeting of our captains.”
Evan’s fingers ceased their keyboard dance and he relaxed into his chair. He swung around and leaned a forearm against the table, “When do you want me to gather the men?”
“After mess tonight will be fine.”
“So, you have a date?”
“I have,” The pause lengthened as he savored his waiting game. Travlor received the impression that his son squirmed, yet he saw no actual movement. Evan sat quite still. He relented, “Less than a week. In three days, we go.”
Evan didn’t seem as enthusiastic as Travlor had thought he would be. “And you’re certain it’s necessary to kill every Atlantean?”
What little patience he possessed deserted him. Travlor slammed the door. He walked to the desk and stood over Evan. He enunciated each word with diamond-tipped precision, “Again, if you want your precious topsider, that is the only option.”
Evan rose and stood toe to toe with his father.
Travlor looked into the hard glint of steel gray eyes and refused to blink. It was clear that neither of them wanted to give ground, but he knew that Evan was determined not to succumb. The tension mounted. It seemed to Travlor that their test of wills had become too evenly matched. He drew a long breath and relinquished his stance, “This could take all day.” He glowered at his son, “You do not know the tenacity with which any survivors will pursue us. In order to bring their Most Sovereign Healer back to Atlantis, if even one person lives, we will be hunted to the ends of the earth. We will never have a moment’s peace!”
Evan threw his arms in the air, “All right! The subject is closed. I will get Daria back any way I have to.”
“Do not worry, the topsider’s return is important to both of us,” he tasted those words on his tongue and wanted to spit them out. God, he detested that woman!
Evan went to the door. With his hand on the knob he turned back to Travlor, “I will inform the men of the meeting. Will you dine in the mess tonight or will you take your meal in your cabin?”
“Why don’t you join me in my cabin? We will dine apart from the men tonight.”
Evan turned the knob and opened the door against the screech of warped wood. “I’ll bring the wine,” Evan slammed the door shut.
With his departure, the shriek of wood sounded to Travlor like a vehement protest.
“Three days is all you have left!”
Ni-Cio closed his eyes. It was upon them. “We are not without defenses, Evan…the volunteers who have come forward to guard our tunnels have steeped themselves in knowledge of Terran explosives… they will be ready…we have successfully gathered two hundred quartz crystals so I can promise to meet their arms with weapons just as deadly…Travlor’s men will be tested to the utmost…as will we…”
Ni-Cio sat alone in the room where he had met with Marik and the other tactical leaders. He hunched over the table and waited for Evan to finish.
“Travlor is unveiling the assault strategy tonight…the next two days will be used to drill the men in simulations of the invasion…if I learn anything more, I will contact you immediately…if you do not hear from me, proceed as though nothing has changed…”
Ni-Cio knew that something wasn’t right. “Why would we lose contact?” No answer. He reiterated. “Evan…why would we lose contact?”
The topsider’s reply was more nonchalant than Ni-Cio would have liked. “It’s just a precaution…we can’t foresee what the fates have ordained…”
Ni-Cio’s thoughts flew skyward, “That is true, however, one is wise not to tempt the fates…”
“Well, there is a topside saying, ‘God helps those who help the
mselves’…it’s about time God aligned himself on our side…”
Ni-Cio knew there was nothing he could do to prevent Evan from any action he planned against Travlor’s men. He just hoped Evan knew what he was doing. He sat up when he realized there was a good chance that he and the topsider might not see each other again, “Look to yourself, Evan…”
Several heartbeats passed, “Look to yourself, Ni-Cio…”
Evan knew the mercenaries sensed a change. As battle hardened as they were, they had to know that the time was near when drills would cease and reality would decide who made it to the final payment and who didn’t. Evan figured that since Travlor normally took his evening meal with the men, his absence, coupled with the meeting after dinner, would tell them all they needed to know. Evan’s adrenaline was in overdrive.
Seated at a rickety table inside Travlor’s cabin, he and his father awaited the meal that had been ordered earlier in the day.
Evan’s anxiety ran rampant. His pulse raced and his nerves jangled. His breathing was shallow and he was terrified of what he was about do. The sordid room pressed down on him, feeding his claustrophobia. Evening shadows scrabbled toward him over the splinter-infested flooring. It was impossible to concentrate. Twice he had asked his father to repeat his words.
A knock sounded at the door, but to Evan, the noise invaded the room with the force of a jackhammer and he jolted in his chair. He checked to see if Travlor had noticed. The man gave no indication of having seen his startled jump, or if he was choosing to ignore it. Sweat gathered at the base of Evan’s spine.
Travlor issued his command. “Come.”
A bull moose of a man entered the room and drained what little space remained in the close quarters. He rolled a cart laden with food to the table, silently placing the dishes before Travlor and Evan. Once the transfer was finished, he turned to leave. As he moved back to the door, the curt order came.
“Hold!”
In one motion, the man turned and came to attention. Always suspicious, Travlor examined the soldier. He motioned him over and imperiously pointed at his food, “Taste.”
Without so much as a flicker, the beefy man bent to retrieve a knife and fork. The table jiggled as he sliced a slender portion of meat. He chewed thoroughly and swallowed. Nothing happened, so Travlor inclined his head toward the rest of the meal. The soldier methodically tasted every bit of food on both plates.
Once the grisly ritual was complete, Travlor dismissed the man with a cursory wave of his hand. Evan watched the door close after the hulking figure. The harsh thump emphasized his sense of being sealed in.
Travlor began to consume his meal with hearty abandon. Evan tried to eat, but the first swallow of food hit his stomach with the force of a wrecking ball. He reached for his water but his hands shook so much he could hardly lift the cup. When Travlor spoke, he almost hurled the glass across the room.
“You seem uneasy tonight.”
His father carved a fat section of blood-rare steak. Evan swiped at his brow and cleared his throat, “I’m fine.”
Travlor paused. The speared filet dripped blood, “A certain amount of nervousness is expected prior to battle.” He thrust the meat into his mouth and chewed with gusto, “It will pass.”
Travlor bent to enjoy more of his meal. Evan thought he might pass out when all of a sudden he felt quite removed from his body. He observed himself push back from the table, “I purchased a good wine today. It will complement our meal.”
Evan saw himself rummage through his backpack to bring out an opener and a bottle of imported red wine. He watched his body cross to the kitchenette and uncork the beverage. He sniffed the moistened end of the cork, but discerned nothing out of the ordinary. He grabbed two glasses and poured the ruby-red liquid, then shuffled back to the table and lifted his hand. He held his breath and presented one of the glasses to his father.
Travlor accepted and raised his glass. He swirled the wine around and around, then held the goblet under his nose. He inhaled and arched his eyebrows, “You did well.”
Evan let the air out of his lungs and sat down.
Travlor lifted his glass in a toast, “To the desired result of our long planning.”
Evan tilted his drink toward Travlor. He noted in microscopic detail the jagged lines of his father’s hand. As though he was under the influence of a powerful hallucinogenic drug, time slowed and everything became magnified. The bystander in Evan saw the fine hairs splayed over the backs of Travlor’s hands, the slight pulse of blue veins under gray skin, the drops of moisture that glistened on his father’s lips, the sheen of the glass as he raised the drink to cruel lips.
Then came the preeminent moment, a moment that produced a rift in Evan’s perception of time as it moved forward through space. It was a moment when the concept of time ceased to exist and in all the universe nothing moved. It was an offering, an aperture of time in which he could stay his father’s hand and create a different path or…
Evan watched the cyanide-laced liquid splash into his father’s mouth. Travlor swallowed. The seconds stretched into hours. The poison finally took effect. Travlor contracted into a violent seizure that wracked his entire body. He lurched up and fell forward. Under the impact of his weight, the small table gave way and smashed to the ground.
Evan bolted to one side. He grabbed hands that had been drawn into rigored knots and pulled his father from the broken meal. He dragged the contorted figure to the swaybacked bed and wrestled Travlor onto the musty blanket. He let go and stumbled backward. Tears leaked from his eyes as Evan waited for the poison to finish its work. His father wrenched from side to side in excruciating death throes.
At last the contortions subsided. Evan felt for a pulse. Nothing.
He labored to stand. There was no need to hurry. He gathered his backpack and stepped over the remains of dinner. At the door, he looked back at Travlor’s distorted body. Evan had to remind himself that his singularly horrific act had indeed had some basis in reason. A low moan rose from deep inside and leaked through his closed lips. Evan left before the moan transmogrified into a wail.
Blinded by shock and tears and grief, Evan stumbled down the perilous cliffside trail. The night breeze wound about him in serpentine tendrils and dust drifted into the air to clog his nose. Finally, the rocky shoreline rose to meet him. He blundered onto the beach and lurched toward the Zodiacs.
Losing his footing, he tumbled onto one of the rounded rubber sides. He clutched the Zodiac like a life preserver and dragged the night air into his seared lungs. He couldn’t seem to get a deep enough breath. Nausea coursed through him and his throat filled with a sour taste. He gave up. As he fell onto the gritty, sand covered stones, wave after wave of gut-wrenching heaves ravaged his body. Evan spewed the contents of his stomach until he thought his insides would surface.
Ribbons of saliva trailed like tentacles from his mouth. His body shook uncontrollably. He curled into a fetal position and wrapped his arms around his knees. The giddy face of a full moon peeped from behind wind tattered clouds and Evan closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at the vacuous smile. He had never known such anguish, and he was so absorbed in the throes of his suffering, that the sharp clap of rocks almost escaped his attention. However, in the dim recess of his misery, he realized that he was no longer alone. Harsh words ground into his ears.
“There he is! Grab him!”
Yanked to a standing position, Evan was roughly restrained between two musclebound soldiers. Even though he was exhausted and weak, Evan tried to compel the men to release him. He hadn’t quite collected his thoughts when he heard a vindictive snarl.
“We came to tuck you in. It’s beddy bye time.” A Taser short-circuited him into oblivion.
The soldiers grappled the inert body with savage expertise and Evan was hoisted onto massive shoulders in a fireman’s carry. O’Donnell took the lead. His weighted buddy brought up the rear.
“Hit it!”
At a fast trot, th
ey made a brisk ascent up the winding cliff. When they reached the top, the lax burden was transferred to O’Donnell, and they double-timed it to the compound.
Their heavy footsteps pounded up the emaciated stairs and shattered the quiet as they shoved into the shell of Evan’s cabin. O’Donnell pitched the motionless body face down onto wooden boards that groaned with the effort.
He and his partner worked well together. They were quick and they were silent. With brutal strength, O’Donnell twisted Evan’s hands behind his back and bound his wrists with zip ties. He used one foot to hook the rung of a nearby chair and dragged it to his side. He jerked Evan into the seat. O’Donnell draped Evan’s arms over the back of the chair while his partner tied each of Evan’s ankles to the wooden legs.
Not one word had been exchanged since they had left the beach. They inspected their handiwork. Satisfied that they had executed their mission as expected, they stood. They quickly exited the cabin, unconcerned that they had left their boss’s son slumped, unconscious, in a ramshackle room of atrophied remains.
He moaned. He tried to lift his head, but his body felt as if it had been set on fire. Shock waves of pain darted from his head, down his spine and into every concussed nerve ending. Evan twitched his arms and an electrical shock sizzled to his fingertips. He tried to ignore the pain and move his legs. His synapses screamed for him to stop. He ceased his struggles when he found that his hands were secured behind him and his ankles were strapped to the chair legs. He raised his head and blinked his eyes. God, even his eyes hurt. He was seated on a wooden chair inside his cabin. A sliver of moonlight oozed through the grime of one tiny window and lit the room in a tepid yellow glow. Evan shook his head and felt his brain knock against his skull.
He began to get his bearings and wondered how long he had been out. He remembered the mercenaries and the lightning shock of the Taser, but that was about it. The floorboards creaked.
Tides of Change Page 24
