Survive

by Vera Nazarian

  “Go on.” The Imperator’s gaze intensifies.

  “And it appears we have something,” Aeson concludes. “In fact, we have multiple somethings, but only one of them ultimately makes sense.”

  “What?” Director Bennu sits up in his chair.

  “A meaningful geometric shape,” Aeson says. “To be precise, a shape partially described by the alignment of four moons. But you can’t see it with the naked eye, only with blackout shades, because it happens in the daytime.”

  “Interesting,” the Imperator says.

  “The alignment occurs once a month, at the precise moment when the Ghost Moon is centered in the astroctadra window in my Quarters, equidistant from each of the four star points. . . . When this happens, Amrevet is in the top corner, Pegasus on the left, and Mar-Yan on the right—each moon aligned precisely with three of the corners of the star window. Nothing is on the bottom corner.”

  “So, it’s a pyramid alignment, not a cross,” Director Bennu says.

  “At first glance, yes. But then, upon closer examination, the bottom corner needs no moon—it has Atlantis itself. The window bottom corner touches the horizon, pointing down to the ground.”

  “Aha!”

  “That’s not all. The astroctadra is a two-dimensional shape, a snapshot of points aligned on a flat plane. However—if we translate this alignment into normal three-dimensional space, this is what we get.” Aeson taps his wrist unit and suddenly projects a hologram for all to see.

  The hologram is blue-violet, about two feet tall as it rises from his wrist. The shape it creates seems to be an elongated square—until it begins to rotate on its bottom corner, revealing itself as a three-dimensional, angular object. Definitely not a cube. I struggle to recall the mathematical term for this type of polygon—how many sides does it have?

  And then I hear Director Bennu exclaim, “Is that an octahedron? Yes, yes!”

  “Correct,” Aeson says. “This is indeed a perfect octahedron—a 3D shape with six vertices. However, in this case we also add a center point, for a total of seven points of reference.”

  “I can see why one might think of a pyramid shape,” my Dad speaks up. “This looks to me like a square bipyramid—another name for an octahedron, if I recall. In other words, take two pyramids, one inverted like a mirror image, and attach them together by their wide bases. Imagine the Pyramid of Giza on the shore of a lake with its upside-down reflection in the water. . . .”

  Seriously, if only Dad knew where the Great Pyramid of Giza has been lately, I think.

  “Yes, that would work too.” Aeson turns to nod at my Dad, then continues. “Now, each of these vertices or corners is a point of alignment. First, imagine the Ghost Moon as the point in the center, inside the heart of the octahedron. Next, imagine that each corner of the octahedron is one of the moons orbiting Atlantis, plus Atlantis itself, plus two other objects—I’ll explain in a moment.”

  “Keep talking,” the Imperator says, staring at the rotating hologram.

  “In short—” Aeson lifts his wrist higher so that the hologram rises and appears to hang in the air before us. “This shape with the Ghost Moon in the center suggests to me a quantum containment field.”

  ACA Director Tiofon makes an excited sound.

  “This could very well be!” Director Bennu exclaims.

  For the first time, the First Priest Shirahtet speaks up. “Indeed. . . . What a thought.”

  The Imperator glances at the First Priest. “Shirahtet? Do you know something?”

  “My Imperial Sovereign, I am merely reacting to a fascinating possibility. No, unfortunately I don’t have any knowledge of this.”

  “Father, permit me to continue,” Aeson says. “Now, assuming this is an ancient octahedral containment field for the Ghost Moon, we must have six containment points. Four of these are represented by Amrevet, Mar-Yan, Pegasus, and Atlantis. What of the remaining two? My guess is, when the quantum containment was first established in ancient times, maybe there were additional moons—but more likely, our ancestors simply used two space vessels, parking them at the precise coordinates to complete the octahedron formation.”

  “So, the implication is, once the original containment field was set, then the two ships were taken out of the alignment. . . . Why? Likely, in order to disguise its very existence,” Shirahtet muses. “A key removed from a lock, and the lock itself taken apart.”

  “Wouldn’t that break up the octahedron symmetry and wipe out the containment field?” George asks suddenly. Everyone glances at him, and the Imperator casts a basilisk glare at my brother, as if implying why are you here?

  “No, that can’t be it,” I say quickly, in order to take everyone’s attention from him. “The moons are constantly on the move, moving along their orbits. Indeed, none of them are in those special alignment coordinates for longer than a few minutes once a month, as Aeson says. I believe, the rarity of this occurrence is what makes it nearly impossible to breach or otherwise affect the containment field.”

  Aeson smiles at me. “Exactly. And I believe, the reason for all our failures to shut down the ancient ark-ship and its components—the Ghost Moon likely being one of them—is related to this alignment.”

  “Yes,” the Imperator says. “Three Logos voices working together and failing at this task was incomprehensible. But now it makes sense. We were fighting against an ancient quantum lock mechanism that was disassembled and shifted out of place. We were also not utilizing all the necessary access points for achieving full octahedral resonance.”

  “Wait, does this mean we would need a Logos voice stationed at each point?” Director Bennu asks with a frown. “There are only three individuals in possession of a Logos voice in Atlantida.”

  “That we know of,” Director Tiofon says quietly.

  “Actually, there are four,” the Imperator proclaims suddenly. And then he glances at his daughter. “Manala, my child, I am told you have recently exhibited signs of your Logos voice manifesting, at last.”

  Manala starts in place and her eyes widen. “Father? What do you mean?”

  The Imperator makes a grim laugh sound. “I have sensors in place that activate upon the use of power voice, anywhere in the Palace. And they are set to recognize the Logos intensity. The other day you raised your voice several times—something to do with your cat—and tripped the sensors. This makes me very happy that you are now capable of reaching your full power level. I will begin training you in addition to your usual classes.”

  “Oh. . . .” Manala whispers, putting one hand to her mouth. “I did not know. I—thank you, Father.”

  “My deepest congratulations, Imperial Princess Manala,” Shirahtet says with a slow nod to her. “Your Kassiopei power grows alongside your own natural progress.”

  “An admirable progress indeed, my dear Princess Manala,” Consul Denu says, with an encouraging expression, so that Manala blinks in relief.

  “So, very well—now we have four Logos voices, assuming the Princess is trained and ready,” Director Bennu resumes. “We are still short two people.”

  In that moment the Imperator turns to stare at my father. “Ter Charles Lark,” he says. “We need to have your voice tested.”

  “Oh?” Dad says.

  “And the rest of your children.” Romhutat concludes, glancing at George.

  “Say, what now?” George meets the Imperator’s gaze without flinching.

  “It is a great and rare honor to share the Imperial trait of Kassiopei,” Shirahtet puts in, suddenly observing George with an intense scrutiny. “We will re-examine all of you in this new light.”

  “Um, okay, I guess,” George says, glancing at Dad and me, then Aeson, before returning his attention to the others. “But what if none of us Larks fit your vocal needs?”

  “A valid point,” Rovat Bennu remarks.

  “Indeed . . .” one of the unnamed IEC Members speaks up, giving my brother a suspicious perusal. I vaguely recall he might be Council Member
Takhat, another loyalist who usually votes on issues in tandem with the Imperator.

  The Imperator pauses, looking at everyone present. “If it becomes so necessary, we will step outside our borders and resort to foreign sources.”

  “My Imperial Sovereign,” Shirahtet says. “Are you certain that’s a wise course of action?”

  The Imperator drums the desktop with his fingertips. “Nothing is certain right now. You know it’s the last thing I want to do. But if we have to expand this circle, we will. Whatever it takes to resolve our present situation.”

  “Then I suggest we begin with Eos-Heket and Ubasti before we proceed to the other Hemisphere,” Shirahtet says carefully.

  There is another pause, as the Imperator continues to look at Shirahtet and the rest of us. And then, in mercurial fashion, he switches the topic. “That window with the astroctadra frame,” he says, looking at Aeson, me, and Manala. “What do we know about its origins? I want to know everything there is to know—how and when it was built, and by whom. I’m aware that there is a duplicate window in your bedroom, Manala. Correct?”

  “Yes, Father, there is,” Manala replies.

  “Aeson, run your data correlations on the other window coordinates, and see if this minor floor level height difference changes anything in your results.”

  “Already done, Father,” Aeson says. “We used structural blueprints and current floor plans of the Imperial Palace and did the numbers for both, last night. There’s no statistical significance in value differences, based on upper or lower floor coordinates. In other words, both windows give the same results. Apparently, they’ve been built at slightly different heights from the flooring in their respective rooms to adjust for the different levels, so that they still provide the same view.”

  “So—built in duplicate. Which further confirms their importance,” Romhutat says, with another look at Shirahtet. “Come now, Shirahtet. Don’t tell me that with your vast knowledge of our past you don’t immediately have some details to impart about those windows. You must know the original builders, the general time period, something. My patience is running thin. Feel free to share.”

  Shirahtet pauses thoughtfully before bowing in a courtly manner. “Allow me to retrieve the Historical Archives and Records database, My Imperial Sovereign. This is such a minor structural detail, and I do have some notion of the general time period and where to look, but I need to confirm. . . .”

  The Imperator slides a digital tablet across the desk surface toward him.

  Shirahtet leans forward, picks up the tablet and gets to work.

  “While he searches, does anyone else have any input?” The Imperator scans the room with his hard gaze. “Tiofon? Bennu?”

  “This astroctadra shape,” my Dad says suddenly. “When did it first come in use, traditionally speaking? Not just those windows, but the symbol in general?”

  “An excellent question, Ter Charles,” Consul Denu says. “The Atlantean four-point star graces so many things in our lives that it is hard to imagine not having it. Even the Fleet uses variations of it on all the insignia—” And he points to Aeson’s jacket where a small multi-star emblem of SPC command is pinned to his collar.

  “Cadets wear the four-point star pins,” I say, remembering the pins given to the Earth Cadets during our cosmic journey on the ark-ships.

  Shirahtet looks up from his search. “A very ancient symbol indeed. According to official records, it came with us from Ancient Earth—that much I do know. Now, as far as these windows, I can now confirm that they’re old—extremely so. The Imperial Palace complex, as most of you know, is a combination of Original Colony structures and later additions. The Palace itself—this building we’re in right now—is an original construction, begun soon after Landing, approximately during Year 4 or 5, making it one of our oldest structures on record, at least 9,766 years old.”

  “Simply mind-blowing . . .” my father says with wonder, casting his glance around the red walls of the room and looking up at the tall, ornate ceiling sculpted with gold and polished stone. “How did you manage to preserve it so well? I’m truly confounded! On Earth, most comparable ancient structures are crumbling, weather-beaten ruins. And they’re several thousand years younger in comparison!”

  “Also, an Atlantean year is longer than an Earth year,” George puts in. “So, wow.”

  “Ter Lark,” Shirahtet says, “You ask how we preserve our original structures. The answer is simple. We continue using them. We maintain, revere, perpetuate that which was first built by engaging in eternal continuity. It is integral to our tradition, our very way of life, our continued existence.”

  “Not only physical monuments or buildings, but our institutions, our sciences and technology,” Director Bennu adds. “Meticulous care is taken to uphold the entire civilization.”

  “Indeed. And the greatest, most ancient, most treasured example is currently before you—in the graceful, living form of members of the divine Imperial Kassiopei bloodline.” And Shirahtet inclines his head with reverence in the direction of the Imperator and then Aeson.

  “Yes, thank you for reminding us that we’re living DNA relics, your gods in the flesh, sustained for endless generations,” Romhutat says with an annoyed edge. “Now let’s stay on topic—about the astroctadra windows, Shirahtet.”

  “Of course, my Imperial Sovereign. And on the topic of maintenance—there have been at least two major renovations of the Imperial Palace complex since the beginning,” Shirahtet continues, “covering most structures over the centuries, and several lesser restorations—in particular, after the third of the Global Wars when plasma weapons were deployed on civilian targets despite rules of engagement. In addition, one significant fire wiped out a portion of the lesser buildings that did not utilize stone as fundamental building material—”

  “Ah yes, the Great Fire of 2907,” Director Tiofon adds. “It burned most of the Old City of Poseidon, if I recall my history lessons.”

  “This building did not suffer any structural damage due to its stone construction,” Shirahtet resumes. “But the interiors have been gutted multiple times and redone completely—in particular, elements of wood such as many of the doors, wood trim, some columns and wall elements and yes, window frames.”

  “So, these windows are not original—” Director Tiofon starts to speak.

  But Shirahtet raises a finger to interrupt. “However—there is no fire damage on record to any portion of the Imperial residential upper floors, which includes this one—these Imperial Quarters—and the two floors below, which are the Imperial Crown Prince’s Quarters and the Imperial Family Quarters. Those two floors contain the astroctadra windows. Yes, there were multiple renovations, but many of the antique elements were preserved—removed with great care for renovations and reinstalled precisely as first built—including the two astroctadra windows.” He pauses briefly, reading. “An interesting note here—the wooden frames were damaged twice, but recreated each time according to precise, strict instructions of the original builder to always retain this design element, and—to always install them in the same spot in their respective rooms.”

  The Imperator frowns. “And who exactly issued those instructions?”

  “It says here, that upon the orders of the Kassiopei Dynasty, the architect Muutat Bisfuri was chosen as the builder on record for the primary Palace structure.”

  “Whose orders? Which specific Kassiopei?” Romhutat asks. “Are we talking blessed Churu, the First Imperator himself who died that very first year, upon arrival? Or his Heir, Narmeradat Kassiopei? His dubious, distant relations? The Imperatris Merneit? Who?”

  “My Imperial Sovereign, apologies, but it does not say,” Shirahtet says. “These windows were a part of the original mandatory design elements for the Palace that have since been fixed as a permanent requirement for all future reconstructions.”

  “I thought the only mandatory elements were the Thrones and the wall Insignias?” the Imperator says. “I mean
the rows of Imperial Seats located in various chambers such as the Pharikoneon, and my antechamber here, and some of the niche shrines?”

  “It is indeed so, My Imperial Sovereign. However, there are quite a few minor, secondary elements that normally need not warrant the Imperial attention, but are included as necessary for the structure to serve the needs of the Kassiopei Dynasty. There’s a list, if you would like to see—”

  “Yes, bashtooh! Give it here.” And the Imperator motions for the tablet.

  While his Imperial father inspects the data, Aeson changes the hologram display on his wrist.

  Instead of the rotating octahedron, the hologram transforms into a linear 3D graph, hanging in the air before us like a transparent cube with graph marks and lines. Inside is a simple object made of six lines and seven spheres—one sphere in the center and six others all connecting to it from the six astroctadra vertex points.

  “This is a visualization of the planetary objects in the containment field around the Ghost Moon,” Aeson says.

  “It looks like a molecule,” George says.

  “Indeed,” Director Bennu says. “It’s a molecule of sulfur hexafluoride.”

  The Imperator looks up from his tablet. “What is its significance for us?”

  “Sulfur hexafluoride?” Rovat Bennu, the Science and Technology Agency Director, pauses to think. “It’s a greenhouse gas. Otherwise, non-toxic. Very effective electrical insulator. The latter property might indeed explain its choice for containment structure.”

  “Good to know.” The Imperator slides the tablet back to Shirahtet across the table. And then he looks around the room at all of us. “And now—we urgently need to recreate the exact circumstances of this moon alignment and use all our available Logos voices to unlock the containment field. When is the next alignment scheduled to happen, my Son?”

  “Fortunately for us, the day after tomorrow—on Blueday, the 15th. Mid-afternoon, at first hour and eleven daydreams of Khe,” Aeson replies.