Win

by Vera Nazarian

  “That makes sense,” I say. “And mind-blowing to think about all the space stations up there.” I also point a finger up.

  Aeson smiles lightly, and his gaze meets mine with warmth. “One day you’ll visit the stations. I promise to take you around on a grand tour of Hel’s system and show you all its wonders.”

  My eyes widen with pleasure. “Really? Oh, that would be amazing! I’d love to see the other planets—what am I saying, I would go absolutely insane if I could see all that, oh my God! Would I even be allowed up there by these Star Pilot Corps, whoever’s in charge there? I mean—”

  Aeson chuckles. “Gwen, I’m in charge there. While I’m only a Command Pilot in the Imperial Fleet, second in command to the IF Commander, I happen to be the senior commanding officer of the Star Pilot Corps.”

  For some reason I am stunned. My mouth parts. “Oh . . . I didn’t think—I mean, that also makes sense, duh, I’m such an idiot, of course you would be! Your black armband—”

  At the mention of the armband, Aeson blinks. “Actually,” he says, “I earned the black armband in the service of Imperial Atlantida. The Star Pilot Corps membership came later. I served as an ordinary Pilot from Atlantida for a few years before earning the rank of SPC Command Pilot and finally SPC Commander.”

  “Oh, phooey,” I say with love. “You were never ordinary, Aeson.”

  In answer, he quickly picks up my hand and turns it wrist side up, and then kisses my wrist on the pulse point.

  My breath catches. . . . Just for an instant I’m swept away with the sweetness, the wonder of his passionate touch, his mouth pressing against my skin.

  And then the cold reality returns like a tidal wave. “But—what about the impending end-of-the-world disaster and the aliens?” I say with a bittersweet smile. “Thanks for distracting me but—I don’t think I’ll ever get the space grand tour, will I, Aeson?”

  He lets go of my hand and his eyes are suddenly feverish. “I always keep my promises, im amrevu. And you must keep hope alive.”

  In the next few minutes, Aeson tells me more grim details of the IEC meeting.

  “As you can imagine, Gwen, after this latest surveillance was presented, the Council was in turmoil. And the various political factions showed their usual worst. There were many calling for the Fleet to mobilize for war immediately. But they were all divided in how exactly to proceed. The reform faction, led by Lord Arao Hetepheret and Dame Tammuz Akten—you’ve seen both of them briefly during the last Imperial Assembly—insisted we select the best of the Earth Cadets and quickly train them for Space Pilot Corps duty.”

  I nod. “Yes, I think I remember them, considering that awful night has been forever seared in my brain.”

  “These two also made a motion to immediately inform the general public of Atlantis and the Earth refugees about the alien threat facing us all.”

  “Wow. . . .”

  Aeson snorts. “Yes, my Father did not take that well. Neither did his cronies Council Member Takhat, ACA Director Hijep Tiofon, and the First Priest Shirahtet. They all want to keep everything as is—secret for as long as possible—even now.”

  “How realistic is that?” I ask.

  “Not at all, not any longer,” Aeson says. “In the meantime there are the intermediate factions, whose stances are more realistic in some ways. Lady Ishtar Sitamun wants us to tell the truth to the selected Earth Cadets in secret, but have them maintain silence as they train. Lord Asiwet thinks that some watered-down version of the truth might be told to the general public. Council Member Amasis thinks that only Atlantean forces should be deployed and that Earth Cadets can never be made sufficiently battle-ready in time—he’s also the one who was against the whole Earth mission from the start, and thinks we made a serious mistake aligning with Earth on this.”

  I listen closely as I try to absorb these names and political players.

  “And then the Council started discussing the possible actions at our disposal,” Aeson continues. “Council Member Gobu made a motion that we immediately increase and improve our monitoring and alien surveillance technology—so that we can better listen for them via sensitive sound equipment, look for them in the skies, underneath the oceans, and so on. In fact, he went on and on interminably until Lord Hetepheret and Dame Tammuz interrupted to make their favorite suggestion.”

  “Which is?”

  “Both of them have often voiced the sensible opinion that all our problems would be solved if only Earth and Atlantis would simply comply with the demands of the aliens—as long as these demands are reasonable. Remember, Gwen, we still have no idea what those original demands were, since our ancient records have been vague in this area and full of gaps. Meanwhile, no need for war or destruction, according to Dame Tammuz, and Lord Hetepheret.”

  “Well, I tend to agree,” I say.

  “Unfortunately my Father, the Imperator is of another opinion,” Aeson retorts bitterly, “He says no, we can never comply with any demands, because the aliens probably want to limit our technology. And this morning my Father was particularly annoyed at Hetepheret.”

  I shudder inwardly, imagining how the Imperator’s annoyance at this poor man might have been manifested.

  “Then,” Aeson continues, “Lady Iela Nastasen made her own favorite suggestion. She insisted that we must prepare for possible evacuation from Atlantis. Yes, Lady Nastasen thinks we can again simply pick up everything and escape to the stars—so we need to hasten our search for a suitable new colony planet somewhere far away.”

  “Oh, no,” I mutter.

  Aeson sighs. “That’s not even the worst of it. There’s ACA Director Hijep Tiofon who is of a strong opinion that we need to return to Earth to pick up more people and resources before the asteroid hits. He and the ACA have been dealing with Earth governments and authorities all throughout our mission, so he thinks Earth’s United Nations might be an ally.”

  “Wait, what?” I frown. “How can you return to Earth in time before the asteroid impact date? I know the Fleet needed a year of travel time, and yes, there are some smaller ships that can go faster. . . . But still, don’t you need at least a few months? And even so, what can a few small fast ships accomplish on their own? You need ark-ships with cargo space!”

  “Yes, exactly.” Aeson looks at me with intensity. “However, Director Tiofon thinks he can get around this problem. He wants to coordinate with Earth UN to use Earth’s own primitive starships, and ferry as many people and resources into orbit or even hide them on Earth’s Moon or another Sol planet such as Mars, so that they simply wait safely away from Earth, out of the way of destruction while the asteroid strikes. Then, our Fleet arrives and loads them onto our ark-ships. They just need to survive the wait in space.”

  “But—but—” I stammer. “This is all crazy. If that’s even possible, then why wasn’t this done anyway to save more of us on Earth?”

  Aeson picks up and drains the rest of his glass of qvaali. He then sets it down with a firm clank on the table. “Because it’s not really possible or feasible—not as far as our experts think. Director Tiofon is merely greedy for Earth’s remaining resources. After dealing with Earth authorities, he’s seen what’s there, all the natural treasures, minerals, metals, so much useful material. He doesn’t care about saving anyone else, he just wants to strip Earth of anything useful before Atlantis evacuates again and runs to make another distant colony, as Lady Nastasen insists.”

  I frown, thinking about all of this with renewed despair.

  “Finally,” Aeson continues, “there are some Council Members who think we need to pool the existing resources of Earth and Atlantis against the common enemy. . . . But do it here, on Atlantis, with what we already have—all of you Earth refugees. That includes everyone and everything that was brought here during our Earth rescue mission, combined with the existing resources and people of Atlantis.”

  “That might be the best answer.” I look at Aeson thoughtfully.

  “Agreed. And that
is what I told the Council myself.”

  “How did they and your Father react?”

  Aeson pauses before answering, and I can see the darkness in his expression intensify. “My Father is usually critical of my opinion, but on this he appears to be in agreement. He wants Atlantis to be stronger, here and now—it’s why he was in favor of bringing the Earth refugees here in the first place.”

  “Oh. . . . Talking about bringing Earth people here—any word on my parents and George being rescued?” I say, with a sudden pang of nerves.

  Aeson takes a deep breath and frowns slightly, his expression taking on a different flavor of serious. “To be honest, I haven’t had a final confirmation. I gave the priority order many days ago for your entire family to be picked up and taken into orbit immediately. As of the day before yesterday, Nefir Mekei, who remains on that ark-ship as the ACA agent in charge of Earth ground operations, assured me he was still working on it. According to him, there were some issues with getting a shuttle down in that area of Vermont where your family is, due to some ‘severe weather conditions’—”

  My jaw drops, while my pulse starts racing. “What severe weather conditions? It’s summer there now! Unless you consider frequent rain and mosquitoes swarming around the creek in our back yard major weather, there should be no problem!”

  “I know.” Aeson pauses before speaking. “There is—Nefir mentioned there are significant fires burning . . . everywhere. Not only in that area of Vermont, but in many other places . . . all over Earth.”

  “What?” I stare at him dumbfounded. Then jumbled Earth memories come to mind—the civil unrest, the acts of violence that had just started to escalate when we were still Qualifying. . . . And yes, the images I had seen briefly on the many surveillance screens in Aeson’s office in Pennsylvania RQC-3. That’s when the fires had already started burning. . . . And later, there were whole cities burning. I can see them in my mind’s eye, skyscrapers in urban areas engulfed in flames. . . . But that was all a year ago, when we were just departing Earth! What hellish nightmare must be going on there now? How is anyone even alive?

  Suddenly I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. And now I’m numb with cold. . . . How could I have allowed myself the happy illusion that everything on Earth was still “suspended” as we had left it, all those months ago?

  Aeson reaches out again to take my hand and holds it tight. Nearly crushing my fingers to get my attention, he begins speaking urgently in a voice of strength. “Gwen . . . Gwen! Listen to me, your family is okay. I told you they are now under my protection. And the officers and crew under my command will get all of them to safety, I promise. This is just a temporary setback. Nefir has sworn to me, not only as Fleet officer but as my astra daimon brother, that he will be personally responsible for getting your parents and your brother on board the ark-ship—”

  But I am hardly listening through the buzzing in my head, the rushing blood in my temples. “Oh my God . . . Earth is burning. . . . Oh my God. Are they alive? How can they be okay?”

  “They are. They were reached at home by video call—only two days ago. Yes, the situation is serious, but they’re fine, all three of them, your parents and George, and they are ‘wisely staying indoors, waiting to be picked up.’ Those were Charles Lark’s, your father’s exact words,” Aeson reassures me. “The area is thick with smoke, causing low visibility, and St. Albans and the immediate surrounding areas have suffered a series of wildfires, some of which are still out of control, but nothing directly threatening your family’s home in Highgate Waters. And, as you say, there are frequent rains in this region of Earth, so it’s been helping to relieve the misery.”

  “You talked to them!” I exclaim with a burst of hope, grasping his hands in turn with both of mine.

  “Not directly—Nefir can briefly call the surface using short burst signals, but it’s not possible to get a steady long-range communication link from here to Earth without compromising our secret presence. For now, the ark-ship must remain shielded and undetected in orbit—”

  “What else did my Dad say? How is Mom? Were they told about us getting married?” I interrupt with a volley of questions.

  “They were told that they’re getting rescued, but the details were left for you to give . . . which I promise you’ll have the chance to do very soon!” Aeson’s gaze is soft and calming. “For now, this is the most recent update we have. However, the moment your family is brought on board, Nefir will let me know, day or night. From the ark-ship they can use our standard deep space Atlantean communication that’s undetectable by Earth tech, and they’ll be able to talk to us directly, for as long as you need. I promise, you will talk to your family soon, im amrevu!”

  A profound sense of relief fills me as I hear him say this.

  Seeing my relaxing expression, Aeson stands up and pulls me up out of my seat.

  “Now, enough of all of this distraction, Gwen. All this talk, and intense thinking, and over-thinking, and useless worry. The best thing you can do for your family is to stay strong. And to do that, we need to get back to your training.”

  “Okay,” I say with a moment of lightness. “Because if worry could be channeled as a magic power, I think I’m all set as far as the Games and everything else. Hey, I might be able to singlehandedly stop the asteroid just by freaking out over it.”

  Aeson’s lips curve into a smile, and his eyes are warm with intensity. “Let’s channel this amazing power of yours into weight training, right now.”

  And for the rest of the afternoon we do.

  Chapter 30

  At this point, everything speeds up and blurs into a brisk daily routine. I’ve been on Atlantis for seven impossible, eventful days, and I wake up on the eighth—Green Pegasus 3, according to the Atlantean calendar—ready to face whatever I must, for the sake of so many people I care about.

  How to describe these busy days and weeks before the Games of the Atlantis Grail? They quickly roll into one as I firmly try to keep my mind off the grim realities and try to focus on the training work at hand. . . .

  Mostly it’s like this. In the morning Xelio comes to train me with swords—and Aeson wisely keeps away so as not to lose his temper or his nerve, seeing me get beaten up by Xel and “generally mauled,” as Erita would say. Then Aeson and I do weights in the afternoon followed by intensive target practice, and during breaks, voice lessons—Aeson continues to discreetly teach me advanced voice techniques to the best of his Kassiopei ability, which still puts me in awe. The day after that, Oalla takes over in the morning with her bag of nets-and-cords tricks, and more weights, followed by Erita again the next day—and so on.

  In a nutshell, the things the astra daimon teach me in these days of training are mostly unorthodox. We’ve all accepted the sad reality that I am just not going to get significantly better or stronger in time for the Games, so we focus on survival tricks and shortcuts. I learn to flick wrists and toss unusual objects, trip opponents, tangle nets with blades and vice versa, and do the generally unexpected with weapons and with items that are not normally considered weapons.

  Meanwhile, as my endurance improves, the effects of the Atlantean gravity lessen, so that I’m not as exhausted all the time as I was in the beginning. This is also when I start taking special hormone adjustment pills to control my menstrual cycle and temporarily stop it altogether. It’s not exactly the same thing as birth control—I’m still uncertain if birth control is even an option when it comes to the Kassiopei, and I’m too embarrassed to ask just yet (I suspect it exists but is somehow very different from the kind of birth control used with anyone else). But at least this way I won’t have to deal with having a period in the middle of the Games.

  In order to build additional endurance, and tone another set of muscles, Aeson also makes me run laps around the estate, usually in the cool of the early evening when Hel begins to set, turning the skies teal and violet. . . . During these runs I’m briefly reminded of my earliest training with Logan Sangre
, running around the track at the RQC. But the difference here is, I don’t suck as much as I used to a year ago. I can now run at a reasonable steady pace without my lungs collapsing, while burdened with the additional weight of Atlantean gravity.

  Also, with Aeson I don’t feel that uncomfortable pressure to perform, and I don’t feel guilty for not being good at it. Aeson runs at my side, light and effortless, but unlike Logan I never feel that he is showing off his perfect form (not that Logan really did, but I always felt so inferior when running with him). Instead, he matches my stride and keeps me company, shadowing me loyally with his silent strength, breath for breath, until I find the zone that keeps me going.

  The other advantage of training with Aeson is that often at the end of our exercise we cool off by swimming in the beautiful outdoor pool in the gardens of his estate. The pool is partially shaded by tall trees, so that the sun glare is diffused by a canopy of green that sends dappled sunlight to refract gently in the water. Meanwhile at night the pool is lit up with warm glowing orbs around the marble-tiled edge, casting a soft light that does not diminish the ability to see the incredible thicket of alien stars overhead. . . .

  It’s my secret pleasure to not only swim but to watch Aeson’s sleek muscular body. . . . And what a magnificent, toned upper body and sculpted abs he has! I sneak glances at him constantly, above and okay, yes, below, where he’s just as perfectly formed in every way. My Bridegroom is a bronzed golden god, wearing nothing but loose Earth-style swim trunks that cling to him when wet, defining every sexy muscle underneath—I find out later that it’s modesty for my sake, because Atlanteans often swim in the nude, and he doesn’t want to frighten me with too much intimacy this early in our relationship.