“I’m not sure I understand,” I say, glancing from the screen to Aeson. “But I do know I have no intention of humoring your Father any more, not after what he—”
But Aeson interrupts me gently. “My Imperial Father told me that he has just been contacted by New Deshret directly. The Pharikon, who is their equivalent of the Imperator, called to inform us that the Ra Disk has come alive and has been humming since noon our time. . . . Since the moment you raised the Atlantis Grail.”
“What?” I say, and now my blood runs with pure cold.
“Gwen,” im amrevu says, “with what I know now and had never previously suspected for all these years of my life, I can make a safe guess. The Ra Disk of New Deshret, stored for thousands of years on a different continent on the opposite side of the planet, disguised as a relief carving on a mountain, fits like a perfect lid over the Atlantis Grail. Put the two together and you get a sphere. It is the missing top half of the ancient ark-ship’s resonance chamber.”
Xelio makes a sharp sound of surprise. Oalla sucks in her breath.
“So you’re saying that when I keyed the Grail it somehow affected this Disk . . . at a distance?” I ask with amazement.
“Yes.” Aeson watches me with a grave look of wonder. “At the Pharikon’s request, my Father attempted just now to re-key it remotely via the comm device and deactivate it with his Logos voice . . . but something went wrong. In short—he was unsuccessful. That’s why we must comply with his summons tomorrow. Because, whatever you did to key the Grail—and the Disk—to you, and to somehow activate the whole thing, has caused an anomaly and some kind of cascading reaction. At this point you might be the only person who can turn it off.”
Chapter 6
I stare in stunned silence, forgetting to breathe for a moment, unable to form words, while my mind clamors with the implications—all possible implications—of what this could mean.
“Kass! What’s going on? What did you just say? The Grail, the Ra Disk . . . are parts of an ancient ark-ship?” Xelio asks meanwhile. “You mean—”
But Aeson again raises his hand, silencing him the same way he did a few minutes ago, while continuing to look at me with his focused gaze. “Gwen . . . I’m so intensely sorry this is happening.”
“Wait, what? What’s happening? What ark-ship?” Erita steps up and whispers to Oalla, who only shakes her head and continues to stare at us with very wide eyes and her full attention. Keruvat is right next to her, listening seriously.
“Truth is, my Father wanted you to come immediately. Right now, not tomorrow—now,” Aeson continues. “But I refused him with a hard no. I told him you were too tired and drained from the Games and would be useless tonight, unable to summon the energy needed to focus your Voice on such a major task. It’s logical, and it’s the truth, so it convinced him. . . . But you need to know that my Father is in a severe state of upset—he is panicking, Gwen. The only reason he didn’t send his enforcers here to bring you to him regardless is because I made sure he understands your condition.”
“Oh my God . . .” I whisper, finding my voice at last. I’m trembling in a combination of fury and terror. “He would do that? No, what am I saying, of course he would! So—he wants to force me to do this—whatever it is?”
“When he’s in a rage, my Father becomes even more unpredictable and rarely thinks clearly. Instead he lashes out. But this is such a uniquely terrible circumstance, and he needs you to be well recovered—” Aeson stops, taking in a shuddering breath and releasing it. “As of now, you have time to rest until morning, but not longer. It’s a reprieve. We’re expected in the Palace at seventh hour, after which I believe we will likely head back to the Stadion so that you can be in closest proximity to the Grail—”
“This is unbelievable . . .” I mutter, as my anger battles with exhaustion. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t know anything! I don’t—”
“Whatever things you will be asked to try tomorrow, you need to rest, right now,” Aeson replies softly, then looks around at the people in the room. “This gathering is over. The things you heard—I will explain them to you in good time . . . very soon, I promise. But I ask you to keep this among ourselves for now. Tell nothing to anyone else. Understood?”
Oalla speaks up at once. “Of course, Kass. Understood perfectly, even if we don’t actually understand or have the details.”
“Discretion and silence,” Keruvat adds, putting his hand lightly on Aeson’s shoulder. “You have my promise.”
“Honor of the daimon.” Xelio nods. “No questions for now. We’ll speak—later.”
“I’m confused and scared enough to crap my pants,” Erita says loudly. “But—honor of the daimon.”
Aeson nods to his fellow astra daimon then turns to the Earthies in the room, my siblings and friends. “And all of you, I understand you’re probably even more confused, but please be discreet with what little you’ve heard here. And now—Gwen urgently needs her rest.”
“Okay . . .” Laronda replies in an unusually meek voice. She glances back and forth from Aeson to me. “We should go.”
“Yes, of course.” Gracie echoes her nervously from a few feet away, standing near Gordie and the seated Blayne, whose chair is next to a serving table. Looks like Gracie’s filling another plate with food, possibly intended for me, and has only paused her task because of the intense nature of our discussion.
Gordie just nods at Aeson in reply and furrows his brows.
“Understood,” Blayne says with utter simplicity from his spot in the chair. “Time to go.” And then he starts to rise, propping himself against his hoverboard.
“Yes, definitely time for us to head out for the night,” Dawn concludes calmly. “Keeping my mouth shut, no problem. Like the rest of you, I’ve no idea what is happening, but it’s not my place to speak, so—”
“Good luck on whatever it is you must do tomorrow, Gwen!” Chiyoko nods at me with her anxious face.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“Thank you,” Aeson says to the room in general, as everyone begins to leave. “Apologies for cutting our evening short.”
The mood is quiet and sober, and people come up to me one more time to wish me rest and a good night. A few hugs, a few pats on the shoulder and back, many intense glances, and they are gone. Hasmik pushes a visibly confused Manala gently out the door with a final caring look and nod in my direction.
Only my sister and brother remain, Gracie still holding my plate of food, and Gordie frozen with indecision, like a tree that’s taken root.
“Gee Two, here’s some more for you to eat, all right? I’ll just put it here. . . .” Gracie hurries toward me and sets the plate on the sofa next to me.
“Right. . . . We’ll see you tomorrow,” Gordie mumbles, as Gracie nudges him.
I ignore the plate and stand up. Silently I put my arms around my sister and pat my brother on his shoulder. I am once again numb, this time because my body and mind are shutting off, unable to deal with any of this.
“Will you be okay to make it to bed? Do you need me to help you upstairs?” Gracie tries again, as we come apart. But this time Aeson just shakes his head at her, and Gracie nods hurriedly. “Get some sleep! We’ll be here if you need us any time, in the middle of the night—”
And Gracie and Gordie slink out of the room, leaving me alone with Aeson.
Aeson watches me with a raw expression as I stand there. For one brief moment he allows his guard down, and his eyes reflect the strain of feverish exhaustion. As for me—frankly, I’m not sure how I still remain upright . . . and even as I think about it, I sway slightly.
At once he steps in and takes hold of me. Suddenly I’m swept up in his arms, lifted easily, and he is carrying me as I lie against his chest, head lolling forward, nestled against his throat. . . . Soft, pale strands of his golden hair lightly brush against my face; his warm breath flows against my cheeks, and my head starts to spin with infinite weariness.
Screw the Grail
. . . and the Ra Disk . . .
I slide my hands around Aeson’s strong neck as we exit the room, and I am carried up the stairs and into my own bedchamber.
I’m not entirely sure what happens in the next few minutes—and yes, I’ve ceased caring completely, and my well of self has run dry. . . . The world has narrowed. . . . All I know is, my beloved, im amrevu Aeson, is lying in my bed beside me, cradling me and whispering, “Sleep, Gwen, sleep. . . . Nothing matters . . . I’m here . . . I’m with you. . . .”
His overwhelming warmth, his sweetly mesmerizing, low voice, and his words are the last thing I remember before the darkness takes me.
I am with you.
When I come awake with a start, out of the deepest sleep in quite some time, it is early dawn, and the first day of Green Ghost Moon.
Yesterday was the longest day of my life.
Don’t think. . . . Just don’t think . . . .
The general awareness of it immediately bludgeons me, but I don’t allow any of the terrible details into the foreground of my conscious mind—at least, not yet.
Don’t look back. . . .
Instead I intentionally focus on the moment—my body (it’s sore and aching all over) and my surroundings—forcing the elements of the here and now to predominate.
Do not attempt to remember. . . .
The room is mostly dark, with only a faint glimmering of daybreak seeping in somehow from beyond the drawn curtains. I stir underneath the soft coverlet, feeling a comfortable weight settled against my midriff from above the bedding. I glance to my side, only to see with a pleasant jolt of surprise that Aeson is sleeping next to me.
He’s lying on top of the covers, on his side, facing me. . . . His head rests inches away from mine on the same pillow, tousled strands of long golden hair scattered around us. And although our bodies are not otherwise touching, separated by the thickness of the coverlet, one of his arms is extended, lying over my abdomen just above the waist in a possessive but relaxed hold. I hear his deep breathing—not quite snoring, but softly audible—and feel the wash of air against my nose and cheeks. Instantly it sends sweet currents of arousal and pleasure throughout me, and my lips curve into a smile.
Aeson! He stayed in bed with me all night!
I realize it with a kind of wonder and turn my head to better observe him in the faint light. That’s when I notice that he’s still wearing the same clothes from the night before.
My poor Aeson. . . .
So he managed to get my shoes off and covered me, but never made it to his own bed. How exhausted he must’ve been—probably fell asleep right after tucking me in.
It occurs to me, this is the first time he didn’t leave in the middle of the night to return to his own room. Furthermore, he’s not even up yet and is still blissfully asleep. Another first!
Just as I think it, in that moment Aeson stirs, inhaling a deep breath that turns into a light snore. He grunts in relaxation and then barely opens his eyes.
“Nefero eos,” I whisper, smiling at him, with my face so close to his that it’s within kissing distance.
“Gwen. . . .” he mumbles in a thick, sleepy voice, blinking. And then his eyes snap wide open in alarm. “Ah, bashtooh! What time is it?” He cusses softly and starts to rise. His arm tightens around my waist, hand sliding forward and unconsciously caressing me. Then he blinks, pausing momentarily in confusion.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I think it’s still very early.”
He checks his wrist comm device. “Just after fifth hour of Ra,” he says in a voice that’s now fully awake. “We have time, but we can’t be late for this.”
“So what if we’re late?” I say with a yawn. “Let your Father wait!”
“Remember, it’s not about him,” Aeson says seriously. “It’s the accursed Grail and Ra Disk, and everything that goes with it—the entire ark-ship, its connection to the ancient alien threat. The components of the resonance chamber—and whatever else—must be deactivated as soon as possible. We need to hurry.”
“Okay.” I run my fingers against his jaw line and feel his prickly morning stubble. “But only because you say so, not because of your Father.”
In reply he leans in closer, and his face hovers above mine as he watches me. “How do you feel?” he asks with concern, resting his palm against my forehead, fingers smoothing back filaments of my hair, thumb caressing my skin.
“Better,” I say with a faint smile, looking up at him. “I’ve slept like the dead. I think we both did. And—I’m so glad you are here. . . .”
The next instant his face disappears from view, and suddenly I feel his mouth pressing hard against my throat, directly at the fluttering pulse point at the base of my neck.
A lava-hot tidal wave of sensual awareness overcomes me, coming out of nowhere. My eyelids flutter, and I lie back, dissolving into the unexpected wild sensation of the pulse kiss—the sensation of him—while his lips continue to move against my skin even as his sharp stubble grazes me, causing a strange searing mixture of sweet pain.
Somehow he must realize it, because he pulls back, saying, “Oh, im amrevu, sorry . . . I know I need a shave . . . and a shower.”
I tremble lightly, as the flood of feeling continues to course through me. “Yes, you do,” I whisper. “But I don’t care, because when you kiss me, it makes me a little crazy and kind of happy-drunk—and—and—”
He chuckles, watching me trail off into silly mumbling, then silence.
I take a deep breath. “All right. Enough of the good stuff. Time to get up and face the music.”
And with a groan both of us do.
Half an hour later we’ve both showered in our respective bathrooms, dressed in the slightly less casual clothing better suited for the Imperial Palace, and he’s clean-shaven. Aeson calls the kitchen for eos bread service for two—I’m assuming my siblings and some of my friends are staying here in the estate, but no one else is up yet, so it’s just us.
“Yes, we’re in a hurry, but we’re not going anywhere until you eat,” he tells me, as we sit down for a quick meal in a small room downstairs which has another beautiful view of the hillside and city skyline.
The sky outside is barely the color of slate, as the dawn slowly brightens. The dense tapestry of stars is still visible, and the artificial city lights still on, brilliant twinkling dots in a morass of dusk, above and below. . . . Some of them are moving rapidly above the city in air traffic lanes, which tells me they’re the lights of hover cars and other urban transports. It’s the first day of the new month and a new work week, and Poseidon is coming awake. After all, the Games are over, even though they were halted inconclusively—
Stop. . . . No, don’t think. . . .
At once I forcibly distract myself with a barrage of random factual junk.
Today is Green Ghost Moon 1. . . . It’s Redday. . . . The first day of the week, the Atlantean equivalent of Monday. How does it go? Redday, Blueday, Greenday, Yellowday . . . and then comes Ghostday, the day off that only comes twice a month, or every two weeks. . . .
Okay, now I’m rambling.
Good. Just don’t think of yesterday. . . .
In the warm interior illumination from the wall sconces that fills our cozy nook, I observe my handsome Bridegroom. He is dressed in a crisp, dark blue shirt and black trousers beneath a light jacket, his shining mane of hair gathered into an ordered, segmented tail. The hollows and lean angles of his face still show chronic exhaustion, but he looks more refreshed and alert after a restful sleep—for once.
He in turn stares at me and seems to find my perfectly fitting tailored top and flowing dress-pants, both in shades of lavender and violet, very interesting.
Eventually he tears himself away from the sight of me and points to the appetizing spread before us.
“Yes, my Imperial Lord, I promise to consume food,” I reply mockingly, picking up a cup of steaming-hot lvikao, the delightful drink with the aroma of a pastry shop, and mimicking
an Earth-style toast gesture in his direction. “And you need to eat, too, because I know you’ve not eaten properly for a month. No excuses, mister! Don’t make me force-feed you this—this big, juicy, swirly, fruity thing, whatever it is!”
“It’s a medoi fruit-filled eos pie.” He laughs at me, then takes a deep swallow of his own drink, picks up an eating utensil, and digs in.
A few minutes later, after our plates are mostly cleared and we’re waiting for refills of fresh lvikao that’s brewing in a carafe nearby, we finally permit ourselves the uncomfortable talk.
“Gwen . . . amrevu. I know you’re making a brave effort right now, despite being terribly exhausted and very vulnerable after all that happened,” he says, “but . . . before we go to see my Father, I must tell you some hard truths I learned from Nefir about the Earth mission, to prepare you for the unpleasant meeting.”
I nod. “Another few minutes will not make us late.”
“All right.” Aeson takes a deep breath. “You know about the single ark-ship in orbit around Earth. Let me tell you the real reason it’s there.”
Ugh. . . . At once, I pay very close attention.
“When we originally departed for Earth, this was the mission plan given to Fleet High Command—consisting of the IF Commander and the three Command Pilots, including myself—and also shared with the general IEC Assembly membership and the foreign heads of state who contributed mission resources. The semi-clandestine version: select and rescue ten million healthy, strong, endurance-capable, and variously talented young humans of the optimum age to survive the Jump, plus specific Earth resources, and bring them to Atlantis. Meanwhile, leave one secret ship behind for special contingencies and as a communication link with Earth, to observe and record what happens during the asteroid strike, without interfering.”
“Okay. . . .”
“The whole effort was promoted as a humanitarian rescue of our species from the same ancient alien threat and their extinction-level asteroid. The virtuous reason given was to preserve and reinvigorate humanity’s gene pool by combining two long-separated human branches—and the practical reason was to add human resources to our military and enrich our static global population.”
Survive Page 7
