Atlantis - Return of the Nation

by Steven Cook

  The statement was greeted by nods and murmurs of ascent from several of the other delegations.

  Mneseus stood forward to be recognised again.

  ‘The Fifth has evidence that there have been great advances in the world relating to medicine, communication and travel. There are the means of speaking to people in countries and regions we have never heard of without spending years journeying to them.

  ‘Men have flown through the air higher than the mountains. Indeed they have stood on the moon. There are the means to look inside a person to see what ails them. Information is freely available to all who wish to learn.

  ‘If we bring the world to our level all that will be lost, I counter propose that we integrate with the world, not that the world integrates with us.’

  Mneseus’ speech raised support from a few delegations. The Sixth delegation looked at them with open hostility.

  Atlas raised his voice over the hubbub.

  ‘Silence, to even contemplate these petitions Zeus needs to hear the assent of an Atlantian of pure blood, a citizen of Atlantis, an Outworlder and one of the banished races.’

  Autochthon turned and smiled at Mneseus.

  ‘The Sixth have members of all four bloodlines willing to petition Zeus.’ He indicated a group that had been hidden in the centre of the delegation.

  Four figures stood forward. Each was covered in a heavy cloak. At Autochthon’s gesture three threw back their hoods to reveal Hildar, one of his warriors and Minotaur. Hildar pulled the hood back from the final figure. Craig looked around, his wrists tied in from of him.

  There were gasps from the crowd.

  ‘You bring a Minoan into Atlantis,’ accused one of the men on the lower step of the platform.

  ‘That man has been kidnapped and is being forced to comply. We do not have the right to force the rest of the world to accept our ways.’ Mneseus shouted over the chatter that had started as the Minoan had been revealed.

  Craig turned and looked towards the Fifth delegation. They could see that his eyes were wide in fear. He attempted to take a step towards them but was pulled back by Hildar.

  Atlas stood and held his hands up for quiet. He waited a while until the room was silent and everybody was looking at him. He directed his gaze at Mneseus.

  ‘For too long we have pandered to the rest of the world. Our ancestors took us away because we became arrogant with our power. The world has had its chance to take responsibility and they have failed. There is more war and strife than ever before. It is our duty to once more take our place and lead the world.

  ‘Autochthon, send your delegation to Zeus with my blessing.’

  The four figures replaced their hoods and moved back through the crowd, surrounded by several of Hildar’s warriors.

  On the lower platform one of the men turned to Atlas.

  ‘My brother Atlas, this has not been fully discussed. We of the Second Realm believe that there is wisdom in what Mneseus says. Also Autochthon should be asked why he has allowed a Minoan into the city.’

  ‘Gadeirus, I have decided what is to happen. Your delegations are dismissed.’

  Eumelus looked in horror at Atlas.

  ‘This is not right. It is not the way things are done. You are not a dictator. The Laws of Atlantis are clear; it must be a unanimous decision.’ Eumelus was inflamed and stepping onto the higher platform he approached Atlas.

  ‘I am King and my decision is final,’ snarled Atlas.

  In a single smooth movement he drew his sword and swept it across his body. Gadeirus’ head rolled off his shoulders. The body stayed upright for a moment then collapsed. Atlas had again drawn blood in the Temple of Poseidon.

  Most people in the crowd stood stunned. Ilissus took the initiative. She grabbed Mneseus and shoved him back into the centre of the delegation. She quickly called orders to her guard.

  ‘Protect the delegation. Withdraw immediately.’

  The guards drew their swords and started moving back through the temple. The delegation from the Second Realm scattered from the lower platform, and Ilissus issued orders to let them join the retreat. The two groups merged with the warriors surrounding the citizens.

  On the platform Atlas watched as the delegations withdrew. He turned to one of his aides.

  ‘Issue the command. Allegiances have been stated. We will respond accordingly. The rebel Realms must not be allowed to interfere.’

  The aide nodded and slipped into the shadows.

  The enlarged group of delegates retreated down the temple towards the main door. As they approached a column of warriors marched inside the temple and took up positions inside the entrance. A number of archers stood beside them, arrows at the ready.

  The Warriors of the Second and the Fifth hefted their shields, gathering closer to each other as large numbers of warriors approached from the rear, sealing off all other exits.

  The delegations from the Fourth and Eighth rushed to join the surrounded group and joined the ranks. Their delegates joined the mass in the centre. As senior officer Ilissus took command and prepared to lead a desperate charge from the temple.

  *

  Chapter Twelve - War

  South of Arcanadia 24th May

  Commander Ed Flatley was more than happy to be back in the air. The short respite on the aircraft carrier had given him chance to stretch his legs, but the rough seas had made him slightly queasy. He was more than happy to be lurched around in the air where he had some control and could react, but the rolling and swaying of the ship had affected his balance.

  The takeoff from USS George H W Bush had been easier than the takeoff. Having given the engines full power whilst engaging the brakes and then releasing them had enabled him to rise into the air well before the end of the flight deck. The twenty-five knot wind flowing down the deck courtesy of the Admiral ordering a course change had generated some additional lift. A collective sigh of relief from the deck crew followed his take off.

  The C130 Hercules had climbed rapidly and banked away from the carrier to let the displaced warplanes land. The transport had been in the air for only a few minutes and was taking a heading just east of due north at an altitude of five thousand feet.

  ‘Feet dry,’ he announced into the microphone attached to his helmet. He had the tinted visor rolled back over the crown of the helmet, enabling him to see clearly.

  He nodded to himself as he received confirmation from the flight director back on the aircraft carrier.

  ‘Descend to three thousand feet, maintain heading of zero degrees. Slow to one-four-zero knots.’ His co-pilot checked the instructions strapped to his thigh.

  Flatley eased back on the throttle and let the aircraft drop naturally as the reduction in forward speed reduced the lift. He flicked his eyes between the instruments and the view below him. He could see the city of Atlantis laid out like a map in front of him.

  He could barely believe what he was seeing. A civilisation was spread out below him. With a start he realised that he was the first person to fly over the city. He smiled to himself. That would be a story to tell his children.

  ‘I’ve got an eyeball on the target. Hit the red light.’ the co-pilot announced.

  In the cargo hold the red jump lights came on above the doors. Instead of opening the main hatch the Loadmaster activated a switch in the side of the fuselage and rolled up one of the side doors.

  The single heavily loaded parachutist shuffled over to the door and looked out. His face was obscured by a black ceramic jump helmet. Beneath the straps and bundles he was wearing a black coverall with elements of shaped ceramic sewn onto the fabric aimed at maximum protection but minimum obstruction. He had a bulky bag strapped to his thighs, one on his chest and was dragging an additional drop pod.

  ‘I hope this goes better than last time,’ he thought to himself.

  In the periphery of his eye he saw t
he light turn green. Without a word or a glance at the man standing beside him he threw the pod then himself out of the Hercules.

  The Loadmaster pushed a button on his belt to activate his microphone.

  ‘He’s on his way, I’m sealing the hatch.’

  He released the button and closed the hatch. The rushing of the air past it was sealed off suddenly and the associated noise diminished to the roar of the powerful engines.

  ‘Hatch sealed. We’re clear.’

  Back in the aircrafts cockpit Flatley acknowledged the announcement by pushing the throttle forward and easing back on the controls to take them to the recommended cruising altitude.

  In solitude the parachutist dropped for a few seconds to clear the wash of the aeroplane before pulling the ripcord. The large parachute opened and he spent a second or two to getting oriented. Satisfied he released the lower of the two packs attached to his harness. It dropped away to the length of the cable.

  He scanned the sky around him and was happy to see the drop pod was directly on target, its smaller parachute had opened successfully and it was dropping directly towards the drop zone.

  Looking down the parachutist selected his landing area within the city below and vectored towards it. His target wasn’t a soft beach this time and could have aggressive forces in the area. He checked to see that his weaponry was ready to hand and prepared to land.

  *

  Temple of Poseidon 24th May

  Saraph quickly gathered the three sailors and the Ranger to him.

  ‘When the General signals we will be making straight for the main door. Keep your heads down and do not stop for anything.’

  They nodded, gripping and regripping the hilts of the unfamiliar swords in nervousness.

  Danny looked at Sophia, who was standing in the front line of the defenders. He silently prayed for her safety as she prepared to lead her warriors gathering before them.

  ‘Ready?’ Eraz grasped the material on Danny’s shoulder ready to lead him in the right direction.

  The mass of the surrounded delegates prepared to rush the door. The warriors between them and the door stood braced and ready to accept the charge.

  A shadow flashed briefly across the door to the temple, cutting the bright sunlight for a fraction of a second. Behind the line of warriors blocking the door the officer turned to his archers to order them to loose their arrows. As he looked he saw a man appear in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright mid morning light.

  Dressed from head to toe all in black the man raised a strange item to his eyes with both hands. Before the officer could speak a suppressed three round burst of fire from the M4 Carbine slammed into him.

  The adapted ceramic-coated firearm and its ceramic bullets had the desired effect of protecting the weapon from the islands field effect and also acting as a potential armour-piercing round.

  The first projectile hit one of the Orichalcum bands that protected the Officer. The reaction between the two materials had a two-fold effect. Firstly the round punched through the band, allowing the round to continue on its way into the body of the officer, and secondly, the shattered Orichalcum exploded outwards as shrapnel as strange excess energy was released.

  The second and third rounds of the burst had the same effect. The shrapnel sliced through the air into the loosely grouped archers. Being relatively unarmoured the ultra sharp shards of Orichalcum shredded them mercilessly. They collapsed where they stood.

  The line of warriors heard the cries and a number turned to face the new attack.

  Fisher moved into the doorway in a crouch. Having seen the result of his first shots he switched to single shot to save ammunition. Taking careful aim he picked his targets, firing a single round into the chest area. Shrapnel from the shattered Orichalcum made the area deadly.

  The warriors, caught by surprise and at a disadvantage to the superior weapon, hesitated. General Ilissus took the moment and issued the order.

  ‘Attack.’

  The surrounded delegations needed no further invitation and surged forward. They pounded over the remnants of the line, swords rising and falling into the disorganised warriors. Hardly slowing they ran into the plaza outside the temple.

  Fisher covered the exit from one side of the door. There was a collective pause while General Ilissus and the forces inside redressed their lines.

  ‘Dingo,’ Fisher called to the Ranger.

  ‘L.T.?’ Dingo jogged over, a big grin on his face.

  ‘Distribute the contents of those two sacks and the pod. I don’t know how long we can keep that lot bottled up.’

  Dingo looked at Fisher. He took in the body suit modifications, the thin panels of ceramic over the chest and abdomen and the exposed Kevlar. The helmet and jump mask that still covered Fisher’s face gave him an unearthly appearance.

  ‘You look like a bloody Stormtrooper,’ said Dingo as he rummaged through the bags.

  He quickly handed equipment to Fitz, Warnett and Danny as Fisher snapped shots through the doorway with various results. They watched a quick demonstration on how to load the weapons as they drew on body armour and fitted radios to their ears and throats.

  The five men started to withdraw towards the now organised delegations.

  ‘Dingo, take Fitz and Danny to the head of the column and prepare to move out. I’m on channel two.’ Fisher watched them move off.

  ‘Sir,’ he addressed Warnett, ‘we’re going to walk backwards slowly, keep an eye on the door; I’ll keep an eye out for the rest of the area.’

  Warnett took up station a few paces to Fisher’s left. Satisfied with the coordination Fisher raised his hand to his helmet.

  ‘Hometown this is Angler, I have linked up with Dingo and Sailors One, Two and Three. Be advised we are retreating with a group of approximately one hundred friendlies back to safe territory. Any heads up would be gratefully appreciated. Angler out.’

  He continued to move backwards. In his peripheral vision he could see people huddling in whatever cover they could find. His eyes moved constantly, assessing threats automatically.

  ‘Angler, this is Hometown.’ A voice crackled into his earpiece. ‘Be advised easiest route back to safe territory is to head southeast to the bridge. There are hostiles on the bridge. Repeat, hostiles are on the bridge. Hometown out.’

  With direct contact back to USS George H W Bush and their links to the military satellites scanning the island Fisher now had a distinct tactical advantage. He pressed the squad radio communicate button at his throat.

  ‘Move them out Dingo. Head southeast for the bridge but be advised there are hostiles holding it.’

  Back at the temple a pair of warriors risked stepping into the sunlight. The believed that they were beyond the range of the strange weapon.

  Fisher raised the M4 and using the ACOG Reflex sight to aim, sent a single round into the body of one of the warriors. The explosion of the Orichalcum armour threw glittering orange shards into the air, catching the light and giving the illusion that a burst of flame had erupted from the warrior’s body.

  The second warrior hastily ducked and scurried back into the relative safety of the temple. Fisher continued his retreat with Warnett beside him. They maintained a distance of fifty metres behind the main party until they reached the corner of the plaza.

  Fisher took the time to change the almost empty magazine in his carbine with a fresh one taken from a pouch on his equipment vest.

  Safely around the corner the two men turned and jogged to catch up with the main body. Twenty metres from the group they heard a crash behind them.

  The whipped around to see a group of four warriors clambering through a broken window only metres away. The warriors had their shields held high before them and ran directly at the two armed men, swords held ready to strike.

  Warnett snapped up the M4 and instinctively fired at the nea
rest man. The three rounds hit the Orichalcum covering on the shield, turning it into an Atlantian version of a claymore mine.

  Shards of Orichalcum exploded across the short distance between the warrior and Warnett. The Warrior was blasted onto his back stunned, but Warnett was less lucky.

  The numerous splinters hit him directly. Some were turned into smaller shards as they hit the ceramic platelets, but others missed this protection and sliced through the gaps into Warnett.

  Warnett screamed in agony as the Orichalcum shredded one side of his body. His attempt to protect his face was futile as the shrapnel’s velocity was too high. He collapsed in a bloody pile.

  Fisher was lucky enough to be protected by Warnett’s body. He saw the result of hitting the shield and re-aimed his weapon. The first warrior was struggling to get his breath so Fisher ignored him for the moment.

  The second and third warriors were hiding behind their shields. The fourth had just exited the window and was raising his shield. Fisher snapped a shot at the fourth man, catching him in the face and causing him to topple over slowly backwards.

  In a split second Fisher dropped to his knee and fired again at the falling warriors shield. It erupted in false flames, throwing an arc of Orichalcum shards upwards into the backs of the two warriors facing Fisher. They collapsed as the remaining shards passed over the head of the Ranger.

  The remaining warrior was attempting to get up, and a single shot took him under the jaw, smashed through the brain and hit the Orichalcum helmet, which imploded, reducing his head to pulp.

  Fisher raised his hand to his throat and activated the microphone.

  ‘Dingo, Warnett is down, repeat Warnett is down. Get back here to cover me.’

  He released the connection and moved quickly to Warnett. What he saw wasn’t good. He could see blood frothing from the side of his neck where the lacerating shards had cut a blood vessel and his windpipe. Blood was also leaking through the body armour to pool on the flagstones.

  Dingo pounded up and took up a defensive position between Fisher and the corner. He glanced down and took in all the injuries. He quickly assessed the situation and was about to pass on his thoughts when Warnett’s body started to spasm.