Heather's team complied and followed the arm cannoneers who were retreating from the crash site in studied steps, their heads and weapons up.
The leader of the arm cannoneers cried again, but this time, it seemed he was crying at her crew. "He wants us to stay behind his men," Nathaniel said.
She didn't question Nathaniel's translation for their rescuer's instructions, her mind busy recalling what she had heard from the gray humanoids about the people called the Atlanteans. It wasn't hard to conclude that those Atlanteans were the descendants of the four humans who had survived the catastrophe that ended the legend of the great continent of Atlantis. Was it a wise decision for Heather to join them? Akmenios had laid stress more than once on the hostile history of humans and how they had waged war against his people to take control of Atlantis.
Could it be possible that Akmenios had lied to her? No. She saw for herself how those humans had recklessly stormed the craft, killing two of her team members. Upon recalling the dreadful scene of her roasted colleagues, she wanted to punch one of those. . .
"What are they looking at?" she heard Susan asking. Only now Heather noticed that the Atlanteans were gazing at something in the sky coming from behind her. This time, she didn't need Nathaniel to translate the Atlanteans' firm gestures to her team to duck. And obviously, Powell didn't need to learn Latin to know what was going on. Before Nathaniel did his usual task, the Major yelled, "Incoming!"
24. Fire Storm
"A missile!" Powell hollered. "Stay down!"
Heather dove, and so did the rest of the crew. But the Atlanteans didn't.
Lying on the ground, she watched one of them aim at that missile with his arm cannon and deter the danger with a counter-missile, an explosion thundering in the sky.
"Oh shit!" Santino cried. "Four more coming! Run!"
One quick look at the missiles in the sky was enough for Heather to get up and sprint with her team on the grassy fields of this cursed island. Nobody needed to argue if it was a good idea to wait and see whether these cannoneers could block the missiles this time or not. Without looking behind, Heather heard four explosions, yet one of them was so close, much louder than the others. When she dared to stop and look back, she found three of the cannoneers fallen dead.
"Dammit, Heather!" Daniel grabbed Heather by the arm. "You can't stop now!"
His pull forced her to resume her run, the Atlanteans' cries behind her tempting her to look back again. "Ahead, Heather!" Daniel bellowed. "Keep your eyes ahead!"
Running as fast as she could while looking nowhere else except forward; it shouldn't be hard to follow that, right? Well, it could be easier if Powell didn't yell, "Duck! Everybody down now!"
So, what the hell should she do? Run or duck? The conflict was resolved in two seconds by another firm pull by Daniel. She was down now. Unable to resist her curiosity this time, she gazed back at the sky as she lay on the grass. Ten more flying objects were coming. "Oh shit!" Heather's jaw fell down.
"Your head to the ground, Heather!" Daniel barked.
What would that be good for? Protecting her pretty face from the explosion shockwave? What if those missiles fell right on her?
The explosions shook the ground she lay on, every little earthquake startling her, almost bringing her to a cardiac arrest. She buried her head in the grass after the third explosion, the blaze burning her back and the nape of her neck. Or that was what she thought. When she heard the fourth explosion she realized that she wasn't burned for real. The fifth one was the closest and hence the worst, the BOOM deafening her for a while. The ground kept wobbling, the air still blazing, and all she heard was a faint clamor of roars and cries. Her lungs cried for oxygen as the air was laden with choking fumes, making her cough so hard she felt her chest was torn apart.
And then she was shaken. But this time it wasn't another earthquake, it was Daniel's hand. "Heather?"
"Not dead yet." The cough hurt her parched throat as she let him pull her up. Daniel was haggard, his face darkened by smoke and dirt. Now she had an idea how she looked. "I presume."
The smoke was clearing out, but still the field looked like an abandoned tomb, the smell of death saturating the place. "Linda?" Heather called out when she heard her cough. In their situation, a cough was the synonym for 'alive.' Heather should rather worry about the rest of her silent friends. "Jay? Santi? Susan? Walter?" She squinted into the fading smoke, frames of human beings rising up from the ground, familiar voices coughing and gasping and whimpering. Thank God! They're alive!
"I see you have forgotten us," Powell's voice came from behind her. With heavy steps, the pilot approached her, Nathaniel following him. "I thought we were part of your team."
Heather was too tired to show a smile. Part of my team? That reminded her she had already lost two of her colleagues in the Atlanteans' reckless break-in.
"Where is Kenneth?" Only now did she realize he was missing. "Kenneth?" she called out upon spotting a slowly approaching shadow that looked like her teammate. She hurried to him, the smoke so heavy it made her cough again.
But that was not Kenneth. It was the tan-skinned Atlantean. Behind him by some distance came four more shadows of his fellows.
"Dammit!" she cried. "Where is Kenneth?" She turned back where she found her friends. A scary thought crossed her mind when she saw Santino and Jay kneel at a certain spot. She wished she was wrong, but she wasn't.
"No, Heather." Jay hurried to her, waving with both hands not to get closer. "You don't want to see this."
"No!" Unable to keep her composure any longer, she let her tears fall. "Please, no!" She shoved Jay, who didn't dare to stop her, Daniel and Santino yelling at her to halt. She ignored them both as she stumbled over. . . Kenneth's head.
"Oh God!" She shrieked, knives cutting through her stomach upon seeing the severed head. Daniel scurried to her, leaving Santino sitting by the headless corpse. While she was unaware of what she was mumbling with, Daniel shushed her as he patted her gently on her back.
Despite the repulsiveness of the sight, she pushed Daniel away to stare at what remained of Kenneth's corpse. "Oh God! What on earth could do that?"
Daniel's voice was low when he held her shoulder. "Maybe it's an explosion fragment." He sighed. "It's useless now, Heather. He is gone."
He was gone indeed. Like Kenji and Joshua. Too many friends to lose in one day.
"Dr. Heather?" Nathaniel called her in a cautious, low voice.
She let in a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. "Yes."
Nathaniel cleared his throat. "According to Tolarus, we have to reach the woods before the humanoids send their troops."
"Tolarus?" Heather turned to Nathaniel, who in turn nodded toward the tan-skinned Atlantean, the man behind all this mess.
"Seems he lost most of his men." She contemplated the four remaining cannoneers from Tolarus's squad.
"Nine of them died in this attack." Nathaniel nodded. "Tolarus told me he understood our sorrow for our friends, but we have to move—"
"Tell him that two of my friends died because of his foolish break-in!" Heather blustered. Nathaniel made one step back and returned to the Atlantean. She wondered if the quiet language expert would convey her fury to the Atlanteans.
That Tolarus approached Heather, Nathaniel catching up with him. The Atlantean addressed her in Latin and Nathaniel translated, "He knows his words won't bring your friends back, but he is really sorry. All he wanted was to help, and he lost men from his squad in the same attack. He wishes you could bear this in mind."
So, what was that Tolarus trying to tell her? His loss was bigger than hers? Who cares? She didn't ask for some help that would jeopardize her life as well as her crew's, eventually ending up with three of her fellows dead.
"All he wanted was to help," Heather echoed, her mind a bit muddled as she tried to decipher the Atlantean's words. "Help us do what? How did he know we needed his help in the first place?"
For one rare instance, Nat
haniel's eyes widened, obviously hesitant to translate that to Tolarus.
"Ask him, exactly as I said. You hear me?" Heather glared at Nathaniel.
The ancient languages expert pressed his lips together as he turned to Tolarus and spoke with him in Latin. The Atlantean scowled at Heather and he replied tensely in his language, his glowing eyes fixed on Heather's face. She didn't need a translator to know he was mad at her.
"He says he has no idea how much we know about the truth of this island," Nathaniel addressed her. "There is too much to tell, yet we have to move as fast as we can now. Your sluggishness, he says, will end us up all killed."
But she had to follow him to have only half of her crew killed, right? Actually, she was still wary about those Atlanteans, whose entrance had been nothing but disastrous.
"Heather." Daniel pressed her hand gently. "We have to follow these men."
"How can we make sure they are the side we should join?"
"We can't." Daniel shrugged. "But definitely, I would choose them over gray-faced men."
She scanned her exhausted crew, those who remained, to be precise. They didn't say it, but she knew they were anticipating her approval. They were ready to do anything to get away from every gray face on this damned island.
"Come on," Daniel urged her. "Everything is going to be okay."
"Nothing is okay, Daniel." Heather let out a deep breath of air. "But what other option do we have?"
* * *
When he heard the alarm, Akmenios thought it was the captured hominum. The moment he entered the chamber, his eyes found the sleeping Burke still tied to his seat. The Shomrunk inside him is under control so far. "What is it?" Akmenios asked Cudelios, his second-in-command.
"The Atlanteans attacked our vessel. We lost all our men."
Fury was a human notion Akmenios never grasped, but he knew that, according to human standards, this news was infuriating. "That's unfortunate. What about the homines?"
"The Atlanteans set them all free." Cudelios kept bringing more unfortunate news. "I launched the Fire Storm Protocol to make sure those Atlanteans are fairly punished."
While that might mean losing the homines as well, Akmenios didn't protest. We have lost them already the moment those Atlanteans have found them. "Good decision," stated Akmenios. "Results?"
"Twelve dead homines, twelve still alive. I'm recharging the missile platform for another wave."
The Atlanteans would reach their mountainous headquarters by the time the recharging was complete. And Akmenios had already lost two power reactors last week because of those worthless cannoneers. "No. We cannot afford to waste our energy like that."
"So, are we letting them run away?"
"They know we can raze those mountains to the ground at any moment."
"But we never did."
And we never will, Akmenios thought. It wasn't a secret anyway, even for the Atlanteans themselves. Those homines knew that he must allow them to survive. . . for his people's survival.
"They need to be hammered," Akmenios finally said. "We will lay waste to their side, yet we shall leave them a room to survive."
"So?" his deputy asked. "Another raid?"
"Not yet. We bombard them first, leaving them in chaos," said Akmenios. "Then, we start hunting."
"Speaking of hunting." Cudelios glanced at Burke. "This hominum has seen too much. Every now and then, his mind retrieves something from the memories he has captured from your head. I had to sedate him when he suddenly raved about the corpses and the tubes. He saw the tubes, Akmenios."
That mind-connection session hadn't gone as expected. "So?" Akmenios asked. "Worried he might tell his friends? His friends must have learned the truth from the Atlanteans anyway." He turned his full attention toward Burke, not sensing any activity from him or his Shomrunk. "And he is not going anywhere, is he?"
25. Cattle Farm
For three hours, they had been walking through the woods.
All the trees looked the same, or that was what Heather thought. Somehow those Atlanteans knew how to find their way as they took rights and lefts in this maze of wooden trunks.
"We did nothing more than walk in this damned island," Santino grumbled.
"At least, we are still on our feet," Walter noted, not much joy in his voice about this fact. No one could tell if they were more fortunate than their gone friends.
The Atlanteans stopped at the thickest area of this forest, sunlight barely streaming in through the interlocking green branches of those high trees. "Step back, everyone," Nathaniel translated Tolarus's order. The Atlantean gazed at them as they complied with his order, and then he pressed a button on his belt. A rectangular part of the terrain rose slowly, revealing that it was just a cover for what looked like a secret lift.
"So, it's not only those humanoids who have the good shit." Jay looked impressed.
"Going underground again?" Heather muttered. "I was just enjoying the sun."
The Atlanteans stepped into the secret lift, which was vast enough to accommodate a van, and all Heather's crew followed. Nobody uttered a word, either Latin or English. For a few minutes, Heather felt the lift going down, then moving forward, the air thick with the stink of their sweat now. We have been running and walking like some damn Olympic athletes since we arrived at this island.
The stench and the lack of windows made her edgy. "Will it take forever?" Heather glanced at Nathaniel. "It's hard to breathe in this sardine can."
Nathaniel translated her concern to the Atlantean captain, who only spoke a few words. "We're almost there," the ancient language expert told her.
There where? Another underground camp? She kept her question for herself, hoping she would know the answer soon.
She doubted Nathaniel had translated the word 'almost' right. The smelly metallic box stopped after like twenty minutes. But truth be told, the waiting was worth it.
Heather and her team were stunned when they stepped outside the lift and watched one of the most wonderful landscapes they had ever seen. Mountains surrounded the grassy field from all directions, the ripple of a waterfall from the northern side mixed with gentle wind whistle creating majestic background music for the place. Just fifty meters away, a river separated them from a small colony of sprawling two-story buildings.
"At least there is some beauty in this damned island." Susan's eyes got wide.
Letting the cool breeze kiss her cheeks, Heather watched Nathaniel, who had a brief conversation with Tolarus before the Atlantean walked away. "What is it, Nathaniel?" she asked him.
"He wants us to stay here," answered Nathaniel. "He's coming back to us shortly."
She had no problem to let herself enjoy the natural painting carved by mountains and the waterfall. The tension was unbearable in the last hours, as well as the pain in her tired legs. The grassy ground was so soft she rested her exhausted body on it. Upon seeing her doing so, most of her crew did the same and lay to the ground, waiting for Tolarus who rode a hovering non-wheeled vehicle that resembled a scooter. Nobody knew where this vehicle came from, but they saw him headed to one of the mountains at the eastern side, the nearest one to them.
"Now what?" Daniel looked around. "They didn't leave anybody to keep an eye on us."
Heather grunted as she sat on her haunches. She hoped Daniel wasn't suggesting running away. Because I'm so tired right now. We all are.
"They must be watching us somehow," Daniel continued.
Who could tell? "They didn't tie us so far," she pointed out. "That could be promising."
The place was quieter than it should be. Yes, from her spot, Heather beheld a few Atlanteans wandering the other side of the river bank. But the way Akmenios referred to the humans' higher reproduction rate made her expect a much more crowded Atlantean community.
"Here he comes back." Daniel pointed at Tolarus's hovering scooter. When the Atlantean landed, Heather wondered what he was holding. The two identical items he brought looked like two helmets.
&n
bsp; Nathaniel rose and exchanged a few Latin words with Tolarus, both of them looking at her. Obviously, she was their subject. Nathaniel took one of those helmets and handed it to Heather. "What's this?" She rose to her feet.
"He wants the group leader to put this on," he replied. "He says it makes communication easier."
Heather was hesitant to wear that dusty helmet. But when Tolarus put on his, she warily did the same.
"What is this thing supposed to do?" she addressed Nathaniel.
"It's supposed to help us understand each other."
To her astonishment, the reply came from Tolarus instead of Nathaniel. Somehow, she heard his voice in her head, in English.
"What's this?" she asked. "An instant translator?"
"Not exactly." Tolarus shrugged. "I'm not sure how I can explain this, but it connects our brain waves so we can understand each other."
"A mind reader?"
"No, it doesn't read your thoughts. Not yet with this version at least." He grinned. "It works on the speech centers of our brains, transferring signals produced in a wavelength that can be comprehended by both of us."
The technology the Atlanteans possessed was impressive, she had to say. "It seems you have a better understanding of brain functioning than us."
The Atlantean was much more relaxed than he was in their first encounter. "Our scientists, who designed this device, have a better understanding, for sure. But that doesn't apply to me. All I know better about is weapons."
Heather nodded toward her crew. "So, they still don't comprehend what you say."
"Neither what you say." He gave her a faint smile. "They can't even hear us. Your words are not coming from your vocal cords while you wear this device."
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