“All vessels acknowledge position. One swirl more to go," Numa boomed on the console, peering with interest at the flotilla of space ships of various shapes hovering over Atlantis on the screens of the Command Module.
"Solar Dispenser to Blackhole. Signal acknowledged. Guardian Djenemi, Captain on board speaking on behalf of the entire fleet. The Solar Dispenser is on a safe anchor at thirty thousand feet above sea level. The Lightship is on a thirty-two thousand feet range. Over to Blackhole for further instruction."
Poised for action at the left flank of the Disk Center, Numa leaned toward Hemse calling his attention. “Zoom on the Solar Dispenser and compute the reliability of its capacitors."
Hemse struck a combination of buttons on the Command Module and beamed with satisfaction as the Solar Dispenser glared on the main screen. "The capacitors are in prime shape and bolstered by the energy modifiers."
"Meaning the Solar Dispenser can absorb the amount of energy we want to radiate through it?" Numa asked.
Another brief combination on the Command Module and Hemse proffered an answer. "Positive. No qualms whatsoever."
Numa nodded, impressed. He appraised the Solar Dispenser on the screen. It was a gray metallic wanton, much like the bloom of a globe-artichoke in the middle, with big whorls on each side pronging out in the rear and in front, plus four tripod-like little extensions at the bottom for soft landing. It looked too big to be so swift through this cosmic sea, Numa thought. Nonetheless, the Guardians were proud of the Solar Dispenser.
Back to the console, Numa said, "Blackhole to Solar Dispenser...all departments, your positions are well in order. A check on the Solar Dispenser’s capacity confirmed it is in prime shape and would soon be put to use. Do listen carefully to this instruction. Guardian Djenemi, reverse the Solar Dispenser to a height of thirty-five thousand feet, the exact spot where the other vessels are. They are to take your initial anchor at thirty thousand feet. After the reversal of positions, swing your receptors in place ninety degrees towards Blackhole and wait for instruction. Over.”
"Instructions taken. Solar Dispenser to Blackhole. Over."
Numa observed the fleet of smaller spaceships swoop down as the Solar Dispenser swapped position to the new point of berth. Within micro-swirls a neat re-order of anchor had been effected and the space above Atlantis remained a calm sea of waiting spaceships.
Numa gave a nod of satisfaction when the huge cone-shaped receptors loomed like weird husks out of the Solar Dispenser’s upper posterior, and the radiators, cones of wondrous casts, reared from the anterior.
"Solar Dispenser to Blackhole. Receptors in place. Over."
"Acknowledged. Blackhole," Numa said. He turned to Ramune, occupied with other trifle details of the operation on the right flank of the Disk Center. "Ramune, give us the exact picture of Tonka's indulgence. Just how far has he gone with his causation?"
Ramune swung to action. He came up with a clear report of the hurricane on his side of the many screens. Ramune’s eyes glowered with surprise.
"Atlantis has narrowly escaped the blight," he gasped. “It’s receding now. Nothing to suggest any harm has befallen the civilization - just few scars here and there as far as the eyes can see."
Numa mocked Ramune with a chuckle. "It’s a hoax, Ramune! We all know this, don’t we?"
Hemse stirred, confused. "I'm not one for riddles."
"Neither are we." Numa swung his arm in an arc, pointing out over a dozen Guardians in the Disk Center who were busy with various kinds of computation as the swirls sped by. "We just have one on our hands though. The deed is done by Tonka of course. Unless we aid him to bring the job to a neat end, it’ll be a disaster for Atlantis."
“Hemse, send the list of our computation on the few humans to be spared to the Lightship. Tell Guardian Ganua to get ready with a couple of saucers to descend to Atlantis fifteen micro-swirls after the Solar Dispenser’s second manoeuvre....The saucers are to fetch the lucky humans alive. No precautionary measure must be over-looked; and remember, they descend before the pull-out of the envisioned blocks.
“Thikaa, get the Tamed Star’s Captain astir. They are to contact all the vessels from Mars, Moon, Uranus and Jupiter. Our choice beings from those planets should be transferred without infringing on their state of consciousness to the Tamed Star and acculturated by the Guardians there for the experiment.
"Semmas, find on the monitors our chosen spots for the tectonic shift and rehabilitation and let the engineers, biologists, architects, gardeners, start their part of the operation right away. The other Guardians in the Disk Center, those less occupied with the operation will assist you in this regard. Let each Guardian co-ordinate the operation of a department, it makes the whole game watertight. It is important the departments seek direction whenever there is an unclear course of action or a mist of indecision. And all aspects of this operation must synchronize with the timing of the pendulum we’ve swung in motion. Get along fast, Semmas.
"Ramune and Hemse, you are working with me here on the main console. We are about to dispense some energy to the Solar Dispenser for onward transmission to Atlantis. The Realignment phase, remember? Good! If we allow intense, direct radiation from Blackhole to bathe that globe, it’ll go up in smithereens before you know it. So we will need the Solar Dispenser to modulate the vibration of the landmass, increasing it bit by bit. This will cause the crust of Atlantis to bloat owing to one principle - the perpetual motion every speck in the universe is subject to. Then it will be easy to shift any region or tectonic plate apart whichever way we desire. And the demise of Atlantis would be as certain as the existence of Blackhole.
"The universe is perpetually a unique vibration as I’ve explained. What this implies is that we will only accelerate the speed of the vibration of the landmass through the Solar Dispenser’s radiation. We’ll then re-condense its frames and form in the random twirl of energies. Ingenious, isn’t it?" Numa said, beaming with confidence.
Ramune and Hemse nodded, admiring Numa’s boundless wisdom. They realized the obvious: as fragile and convoluted as the operation appeared to be, Numa trivialized it as nothing more than a perfunctory tap on any of the numerous knobs and keys on the Command Module. He did not feel the feverish bouts of apprehension making silent rounds in their hearts. Great the responsibilities on their hands, greater still the courage, confidence and calm they must exude to see it come to fruition despite undying memories and archival reminders of past realignments. Frivolous moments were gone. Time for concerted effort to salvage Atlantis’ wreck had come.
"Numa, just say the word, we are ready," Hemse ventured, inundated by responsibility.
Numa eyed him. "All right, here we go!" he said, seven swirls on the dot. "Ramune, simulate our beam heads and train them on same frequency with the Solar Dispenser's receptors and let me know when you've got a clear line of anchor.”
Ramune got to work. Sprouts from the fringe of the Blackhole, four reflective disks of a radius of about two metres, appeared. He lowered the discs in fractions in the direction of the Solar Dispenser by manipulating some knobs and keys on the Command Module.
Done with the intricate maneuvre, Ramune looked at Numa and smiled, "The beam heads are out of fold and we've got a clear line of anchor."
"Very good! Now, Hemse, find Guardian Urnsa in Starealm, the farthest galaxy. He should liaise with Fatien, the Guardian of the Red Stars and maintain a steady motion in line with the new simulation of our beam heads throughout the galaxies," Numa said.
Hemse complied. Starealm flicked to view on the close-up.
Urnsa responded to the signal sent. "Starealm to Blackhole. Signal acknowledged and action taken. Over."
Numa swirled around on his seat and called on a swarthy Guardian who monitored a set of abstract screens with five other Guardians at the center of the Wisdom Hall.
“Hemmas, you heard my instruction to Sta
realm’s Urnsa and the maintenance of the galactic sway? Make sure you fix your mind and monitors on this. It’s up to you to ensure it sticks. A slight lapse and the whole operation would grind to a halt. I’m talking about disequilibrium in the vibration of the galaxy.”
Hemmas nodded on the affirmative.
Once again, Numa thumbed the Red Alert button on the Command Module and said, "Blackhole to Solar Dispenser and all departments. Operation begins. Solar Dispenser, switch on receptors. Over."
"Solar Dispenser here. Receptors are on. Over."
Numa’s fingers made brisk movements on the Command Module. Three quick combinations and the commands were sent. A smaller screen displayed the mystery of his combination - the streaking haze of intense light to the reflective disks from the Blackhole. Happy at his causation, Numa grinned at Hemse and Ramune who pried on him, anxious and impatient.
"Blackhole to Solar Dispenser. Receive radiation. Ensure retention and extreme care. Over," Numa said releasing on the Command Module a downward streak of crimson light from the reflective disks to the Solar Dispenser.
"Action taken. Solar Dispenser. Over."
For an uneasy, anxious moment, the Disk Center remained a silent circle of rigid stares. The tension perceptible lingered till Numa shut off the streak from the reflective disks half-a-swirl later and spoke on the console.
"Blackhole to Solar Dispenser. Transmission is over. Switch off receptors now. Begin the next maneuvre within the next swirl. You need that much time to return to your former altitude at thirty thousand feet. Action. Over."
The anxious faces of Guardians around Numa gave way to smiles.
"Action effected. Solar Dispenser. Over."
The Solar Dispenser withdrew the bullhorn-like receptors on its large posterior to their respective compartments. It hummed as it descended to the given altitude. The other vessels made swift reversal of positions as Solar Dispenser nose-dived to thirty thousand feet.
When the Solar Dispenser reached the right altitude, Numa said, "Listen, all departments. We start Realignment in less than a swirl. Hone your acts. Hang on. Congratulations!"
Numa huffed and looked around, his heart gladdened by the easy maneuvres. The Guardians grinned in return. The first intrinsic part of the operation had come and gone almost without much hassle and they were pleased.
# # #
Songhai. Five and a half swirls into the second phase of the day.
At the balcony of the mansion on the knoll, Vatima stared at the symphony of nature’s rhythm and human color spread all around her, astonished that no vestige of the hurricane's dark umbrella remained in the sky. Now overtaken by a yellow-ringed golden sun, Songhai brightened up like sparks of raw gold in a furnace with the sun’s setting rays.
Even the green of the vegetation, scathed in some parts, glowed with the impeccable beauty of the setting sun. Vatima noticed the people had begun to stir outdoors. Along the streets, cars were streaming all over the town. Aerophibian buses and Hansas skirted the sky as hungry seagulls over a fishpond.
Vatima Hansi could not help but smile fascinated by the feeling of newness from the raging womb of nature. The hurricane had not done much to dim the lustre behind the splendour of Songhai.
In fact, Vatima saw a lovelier Songhai, more revealing in the sun’s tones of tinctured gold pouring down from the perspective of the knoll in relation to Dawn City and the environs. Though the rains had not begun their perennial downpour which lasted a month or two in the middle of each calendar, the lush fields in the distance inspired her.
She looked at her garage. The glimmer of her light-brown Hansa, a beautiful aerophibian convertible, parked alongside three other exquisite sports cars and a mini-bus in the open garage, enchanted her. She could not wait any longer to glide it out on the shimmering highways of Songhai and feel the wonder of computerized luxury. If only Hansi Snr would oblige to teach her how to pilot it, she would have loved to fly it all over Atlantis. Hansi Snr, however, drew the line there and she had to be content with a drive around town, and often to the envy of many a people.
Vatima checked the timepiece on her left wrist and her face lightened. Fifteen swirls remained in her proposed fun trip to Almat Bou’s place. What had she been doing at the balcony instead of proceeding to Straw Avenue to see Almat? Then she recalled her mind had wandered in introspection. Could she trust Almat enough to divulge the haunting scene at Tonka’s reception lounge? Would it hurt her ego?
No, Almat must be kept out of this. Let the bad news filter to her from grapevine, it makes the burden of recall easier.
Why did her children take an eternity to change to simple clothes for a simple visit? Vatima wondered.
She did her dress routine almost in a flash, wearing a provocative, body-hugging black gown with red sleeves rimmed in black at the wrist and collar. It gave her tawny skin, a cool, unassuming radiance, inflated somewhat by the slight rouge on her high cheekbones. A thin line of dark eye pencil flared her lashes and animated her eyes with simplicity and beauty, almost childlike. The magic of her oval face derived its power from the pointed low ridge of her nose, trim brow-line, darkened semi-thin lips, and flawless dentition which men found hard to ignore whenever she smiled. She reckoned from the way Hansi Snr melted often when she smiled it must have been the reason he married her in spite of her other qualities.
She turned and caught her reflection on the tint of the window glass torn between self-mock and joy, the former won. She thought she looked beautiful in the yellow and red speckled hat. She realized, however, the preposterousness of self-praise differed not from self-pity. Anyhow, Vatima believed, though not too regal in her looks, her black handbag of yellow stripes, silver buckled half-shoe of black and red suede leather, matched her tall build and attire. She had no one to impress after all beside Hansi Snr who had not yet returned from his official trip. Besides, Almat would not disapprove as a friend.
Hansi Jnr caught his mother admiring herself by the balcony window.
"Mama, you are ever so beautiful!” he teased.
Vatima blushed.
"You know Mama, your beauty amazes me like the beauty of a fairy I always see in my dreams," he bantered.
“And how’s she like?” Vatima managed to say, trying not to look flustered by a little child’s admiration.
Hansi Jnr pondered. “Can’t say. But she is so beautiful that she makes you drool!” he cackled at last.
"Come on Jnr! How did you know such a thing? Here you go sounding like your father, full of flattery," Vatima said. The boy’s mind worked like a machine. She could hardly fathom the depth of his imagination. "Thanks all the same for your compliment. If you are set for the visit, call your siblings and let us be on our way. Time is far spent."
Vatima and her three children came out of the porch a minute later and headed towards the garage on the right flank of the mansion.
In white polyester short-sleeve shirt tucked in light-green flannel trouser and held at the waist by a thick black belt of smooth leather, Hansi Jnr looked smart and handsome with his boyish look and ever-curious bright eyes. He walked with a springy poise and exuded the kind of confidence that bellied his four feet five inches build.
Manta suppressed the urge to laugh at Hansi Jnr who danced forward and toyed with the Hansa’s sleek rear with his fingers. He often thought Junior too tall for his age, but considering his own height, well over five feet six inches at fifteen calendars, he knew they inherited it from their tall parents.
While Manta did not look garish in appearance and seldom viewed life from Junior or Pram’s perspectives, his neatness could not be faulted by any member of the family. Taking after the feline magnetism of his mother, he nurtured trim dark hair on his fairly big head and had an extreme obsession for cream attire. Now dressed in blazing cream sandals and white lace dungaree, his eyes sparkled with unknown inspiration.
A chubby-faced beauty, Pram was a unique blend between Hansi Snr’s macho physique and Vatima’s gracious elegance. Nevertheless, Manta could see at a glance she had more of their mother’s genes than their father’s. She was not only a fashion freak but oscillated in same frequency in swagger and thought as their mother.
As Vatima entered the Hansa, she folded the roof with its sensor and revved the engine. Manta noticed Pram pirouette around the lawn hedging the garage as if he had no care in the whole world. Her purple gown spotting ribbons of purple on white silk sleeves was freer at the waist unlike her mother’s dress. Pram pounded her cream colored shoes here and there on the hard asphalt of the driveway and danced to a song no one else heard. Her theatrical exuberance soon caused the rest to laugh.
"Laugh if you will," Pram said, not at all discouraged by their leer. “If you want to have real fun...” she touched her head, “it starts up here, in your head.” Her hat, a blend of purple and white, almost fell in the gesture.
Manta and Junior found it hilarious and had another round of protracted laugh.
"Get off my back both of you,” Pram cried.
Vatima had pulled the Hansa out to the driveway by now. "Are you coming along or not?"
Pram stopped her dance and rushed toward the Hansa. Junior opened the passenger seat in front and hopped in. Manta and Pram took up the rear. Vatima engaged the acceleration control switch on the dashboard and the Hansa glided smoothly out. She maneuvred the computerized aerophibian on to the glimmering broad road. And in a steep detour to the foot of the knoll, they were soon lost in the gentle traffic of Dawn City's highways. The sweet wind whistling past teased their happy faces as the Hansa sped.
# # #
"Blackhole to all departments. Five micro-swirls before Solar Dispenser’s second maneuvre. Countdown begins. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero. Dissipate!" Numa boomed on the Command Module console.
Titan Race Page 20