by Gene Stiles
“The truth,” Anak said, his voice chipped as the fury within his amber eyes swirled also in the pit of his stomach. “The truth is that no Nephilim would have done these things. Those people lived in peace.”
“I completely agree with you,” Ra responded, raising a hand as if to fend off the tide of anger radiating from the gigantic man. “There is nothing I would personally love more than to squash Cronus like a bug. However, I am responsible not only for the people of Nil but for the Message. A major conflict between Atlantis and us would result in incredible loss of life and devastation beyond words. I cannot risk it if it can be avoided.”
“And what of the lives lost on my ship?” Raet snapped back at him, her hazel eyes blazing. “What justice will they receive?”
“I will find justice for them,” Ra assured her, his voice softening as he reached for her. His fingers completely enclosed her tiny hands in one palm. Squeezing slightly, he said, “I promise you this, Raet. You have my word.”
“You know I trust you,” Raet replied, her hazel eyes blazing like a noonday sun. Her wiry body vibrated as she stood with fists doubled at her side. “I always have. But this, I will not stand. I travel to Olympia to pledge my support to Zeus. No one controls my actions. I pray you will forgive me.”
“Forgiveness is not necessary,” Ra said, a warm smile gracing his lips. “I do not own you and, as I remember, I could not control you on my best day. You shall have a ship of your choice. We only found six sets of Cydonian armor in the crashed remains of the alien ship that brought the first Nillians here, but I shall provide you with one of them as well as whatever weapons I can. All I ask is that you keep me apprised of Olympia’s situation.”
“That I can do,” Raet replied, relaxing somewhat. She glanced at Anak and saw him nod. “I would take Anak and only those who volunteer to go with me. I thank you for understanding.”
“We have been friends and more for a long time, Raet,” Ra said, moving to stand before her. He placed both hands upon her slender shoulders. “You are an incredible woman and one of the finest captains I have ever known. Please,” he said, holding her face in his hands and kissing her softly upon the forehead, “please be careful.”
“So Ra demands we move our warships,” Cronus said, his voice as cold and hard as a granite cliff in winter. He sat in his offices in the Great Pyramid of Atlantis staring out at the violent thunderstorm that was hammering the city. Crackling bolts of blue-white lightning struck the tall, twisted spires that reached into the stormy sky like elegant fingers of steel. The massive energy cascaded down the circuitry embedded in the structures and into the power storage facilities deep underground. It gave the buildings a shimmering aura that was beyond beautiful.
“Then move them, we shall,” the Lord Father continued, his voice rumbling like the thunder outside the clear, crystal windows. “Order all of our ships supplied and sent out to sea.”
“All of them?” Iapetus was glad they were on comlink instead of holo. Cronus could not see the raised eyebrow nor the shiver of concern that rippled through the big man’s body.
“Yes,” Cronus commanded. He leaned his elbows on his mahogany desk, his jaw resting on his closed fists. “The three remaining warships. The troop transports. The cargo vessels. All of them. Sack the island for everything they can carry and destroy the rest.
“You wish to abandon Heliseous,” Iapetus stated, his voice flat, but his mind screaming out in warning. Was the Lord Father slipping into madness once again? Would his demons overcome him and push him to attack Nil or did he have something more strategic in mind?
“Am I not making myself clear?” Cronus demanded, his eyes darkening even though Iapetus could not see them.
“No, Lord Father,” Iapetus replied formally. He looked through the tall windows of his quarters and down upon the busy harbor. Beside the warships, there were almost thirty other vessels in port at the moment, almost all of them Atlantean ships. He would have to order those that were not to leave the island at once. “I understand. It shall be as you command. We shall set course for Atlantis as soon as possible.”
“I think not. Ra wants our ships moved so we will do so, but you will not be returning to Atlantis,” Cronus said, his mind having settled on a plan. “You will set course for Nil. I will send forty more ships to assist you. It is time we took the city. We will end the threat of Zeus and Olympia once and for all.”
“Is the Sanctuary ready?” Zeus asked, standing over the large mahogany table and staring at the data scrolling across his monitor. His thick-fingered hands gripped the wood as if to crush it beneath his hands. His chiseled features were grim and dark, matching the heavy fog of tension that filled the huge chamber. Nearly fifty people hurried about the granite-walled room, their faces stern and fierce.
“Nearly,” Hades replied as he studied his own screens. He looked up at his brother, his onyx eyes as hard as chipped stone. “It is fully stocked with supplies, equipment and weaponry, but only about a quarter of our people have been relocated there so far. Many refuse to leave their homes.”
“Understandable,” Hera said from across the table. Her golden-red hair curled over her shoulders and down the front of her embroidered, dark verdigris, leather vest. Forest green, leather breeches hugged the curves of her long legs, tucked into knee-high, black leather boots. Hera was dressed for the battle she knew was to come. “We are a city of warriors. All of us have endured tremendous hardships at the hands of Atlantis. Olympia is our home. Why would we chose to hide underground when we could stand and defend it?”
“The Sanctuary is not a hiding place,” Zeus said, irritated his sister would even think he did not intend to fight. His golden eyes sparked as he glanced her way. “It is a stronghold; an impregnable fortress. We dug it deep inside the limestone rock of the Milankovic Mountains on the other side of the bay to protect us from whatever weapons Cronus might bring to bear.”
“Still,” Hestia said, her bright red lips pursed thoughtfully as she studied the maps of the terrain surrounding Olympia, “we could be trapped inside if the entrances were sealed. I prefer to be out in the open.”
“We would never be trapped,” Hades responded curtly. “I designed the Sanctuary myself and no one knows the Underground better than I do.”
Hades brought up images of the massive subterranean complex and ran a finger over the river of tunnels flowing through and around it. “Not only are all doors made of four-foot thick steel, but these corridors run for miles beneath the mountains in all directions. There are twenty routes we could travel to escape should we choose to do so. We could survive inside for centuries, but we can also leave whenever we wish.”
“You have done well, brother,” Demeter said, nodding at Hades. “Of that, there is no doubt. Still, if we go there we leave Olympia open to invasion. I will not deliver my home into the hands of Cronus.”
“Nor I, sister,” Zeus replied. “We have battlements on either side of the narrow strait leading into the bay and a nasty surprise awaiting and any vessel attempting to pass through it.” He sighed heavily and added, “I only wish the Ripper was completed. There will be no time to finish it now.”
He swept his golden gaze over his siblings and the other advisors gathered around the conference table. His mane of blond-streaked, fire-red hair nearly glowed in the bright lights of the war room. His eyes were dark and grim as he addressed them.
“The Sanctuary is not intended to be our first choice. It is a haven of last resort.” Zeus told them, raising his voice so it could be heard throughout the chamber. Everyone in the room stopped where they were, the babble dropping to a low murmur. “Let us be truthful here,” he said harshly as they listened intently. “We all know we stand no chance against the might of Atlantis. Cronus has twenty times as many skyships as we do. He has fifty times as many sailing ships and at least ten Proto-Sun warships that we know of.”
Zeus saw the somber look in their eyes, but also the ferocious, unyielding determination
in their stances. He was incredibly proud of them all.
“We face a powerful adversary and must be realistic,” Zeus said bluntly. “Even on our own soil, our chances of defeating Cronus are slim at best. That does not mean we do not fight. It only means we must plan for every contingency, even if that means we must let Olympia fall. A city can be rebuilt. Our people come first.”
As much as they hated the idea of a second home being destroyed, none in the room could disagree with his assessment. “So let us be vigilant and work hard together. We have time. Cronus has yet to attack and we do not even know if he will anytime soon.”
“He will,” Poseidon said as he burst through the chamber doors. He strode up to the table, his monstrous body taut, his emerald eyes blazing with fire. His black leathers were dusted with ash and burn marks. His hair was disheveled and his face looked furiously haggard. He slammed his hardened knuckles on the polished wood, his scowling face infused with rage. “And within days.”
Chapter XX
“There are almost seventy Atlantean ships headed our way,” Poseidon said to the people gathered closely around him. A large goblet of red wine sat untouched before him as his jade eyes burned holes into the table. The gargantuan Captain looked at the platter of food before him, too incensed to find it at all appetizing. “Among them are three of the Proto-Sun warships of the type Anak and Raet described to Ra. Should they get into the bay, they will level the city in less than an hour.”
“What happened?” Zeus asked, more concerned for his brother at the moment than the impending attack.
“My crew and I were heading for the Nephilim settlement on the tip of Afrikaans as Ra requested,” Poseidon said, he voice dark and low. “Since we are closer, he wanted us to see if the village was destroyed as Iapetus claimed. We never got that far. Two weeks out, we ran into the Atlantean armada.”
“If you had sent us a message,” Lelantos said, his voice harsher than he intended, “we would have sent warbirds.”
“Do you not think we tried?” Poseidon snapped back, his jaw clenched and twitching. The fire in his steely gaze could have turned Lelantos to ash. “The warships fired on us before we could turn around. Those explosive missiles they have narrowly missed our main mast, but they did topple our comlink antennas.”
He shook his head slowly, deciding, at last, he truly needed a big swallow of the strong wine. “Creator! Those ships are fast! Had it not been for a blessed white squall that ripped the seas between us, I would not be standing here. As it was,” Poseidon continued after pounding his goblet down, splashing wine on the table, “we took a blow that tore into our port side. It hit above the waterline, but I lost many good men in the fires before we could put them out.”
“Did Cronus lose any ships in the storm?” Haleah asked, leaning forward and reaching out a hand to lay upon Poseidon’s massive arm.
“I do not know,” he said, his brow furrowed, his fists doubled before him. “We were at the outer edge of the gale. We managed to outrun the majority of the storm.” He loosened his grip long enough to pat her hand in thanks, though her touch did nothing to assuage his anger. “With the powerful winds at our back and a turbulent sea between us and the Atlantean fleet, I managed to get us back here in one piece.”
Poseidon swept his gaze over the assemblage, his ominous words chilling all of them to the core. “Unless the Creator saw fit to sink them all, we are about to engage in a battle we cannot win. We need help only Ra can send.”
“Our forward scouts have finished setting the MP wards along with a ten-mile stretch about five hundred yards short of the city’s perimeter wall just as you ordered, Lord Commander,” Therliseous reported, standing at stiff attention before Iapetus. “They are inert, but ready when you need them. The scouts say they went undetected.”
“Good,” Iapetus responded curtly as he poured over the maps spread out over the table under his huge tent. “We activate them until we are ready to attack. They will blind all electronic surveillance devices between them, but the blank line in the city’s defenses will not go unnoticed.”
Behind him, four thousand troops polished their shields, checked their energy weapons and strapped swords to their hips. Long rows of transport sleds rested on the windswept, golden meadows lining the southern coastline, their noses all pointed toward Olympia like hungry wolves catching a scent of prey. The tension was a palatable thing, as thick as the fog rolling inland from the warm turquoise sea. It troubled Iapetus that, though they were hardened and well-trained, most of these men had never seen true combat. For many of them, that was a good thing. They had no idea of the horrors that awaited them on the battlefield.
“We have over a thousand miles to travel over relatively open territory,” Iapetus told his commanders. “We will be somewhat vulnerable to air attack so make sure our scanners are searching for any Raven drones or warbirds in the skies. Knock them out the moment they are spotted.”
His block-like body was sheathed in light tan vest and breeches at this point. He would don the new, coated armor as they neared their destination. He found it uncomfortable but saw for himself how effective it was against CL and plasma rifles. It was a shame there were not enough suits yet made for all of his men. Only the twenty commanders were thus protected, but the shields each man carried would safeguard them from all but the heaviest weapons. Locked together, the shining, polished metal would act as a wall of blinding light as the sun reflected off of it. Held aloft, they could stave off airstrikes long enough for the skyships to be destroyed. At least that was the hope.
“And what of the fleet?” Iapetus asked, his midnight eyes boring into his Admiral. “Are they ready?”
“At your command,” Denarius replied sharply. The burly man wore a wicked, satisfied sneer upon his round, bald-headed face. His near-black skin glistened with a soft sheen of sweat even in the coolness of the morning mist. “We lost fourteen vessels to the squall, but what is left is more than sufficient to pound Olympia into ashes.”
The large, powerfully built man was as well-known for his vicious cruelty as he was for his strategic military mind. The only lovers that willingly came to his bed were those who enjoyed the sickening perversities he visited upon their flesh. There were many unwilling ones. Denarius took an intense sexual pleasure in crushing his enemies in the most horrible of ways. Iapetus chose to ignore the man’s despicable proclivities. He was appalled by the man’s methods, but no one could dispute the Admiral’s mastery of the sea nor his reputation for accomplishing every task set before him.
“How have you dealt with the Nillian warbirds?” Iapetus bit back his disdain for this vile creature. Yes, he, himself, could be vicious and would kill without hesitation, but Iapetus did not usually derive any pleasure from it. Denarius might disgust him, but he could get the job done.
“They sent six of them after us. We sent four of them to the bottom of the ocean,” Denarius said with a savage chuckle. Iapetus could not help but notice how the beast licked his lips sensually as he spoke. “The other two escaped, running back to Olympia with their tails between their legs. The shielding on the warships works well. There is no threat from the air.”
“Do not be so arrogant!” he bellowed as he turned on Denarius. He was only a head taller than the Admiral, but Iapetus was like a violent thunderstorm as he stood over him. “We do not know enough about what other weapons Zeus has nor the defenses of the city. We know not what Ra may have supplied him with after the Golden Eagle debacle. Zeus could be baiting us, drawing us in, and your contemptuous swagger could spell our own downfall. Have as much respect for our adversary as I assure you he has for us or you will pay a dear and deadly price. That I can guarantee you.”
The smaller man cringed, sinking in on himself, only the flashes in his deep-brown eyes betraying how furious and bitter he was to be berated in front of the other commanders. “Yes, Lord Commander,” Denarius said, straightening his spine and standing at stiff attention. “Please forgive me.”
> “Return to your ship,” Iapetus said dismissively, the repugnance clear in his grumbling voice. “You will give us two days to make our way through the interior. Keep your fleet out to sea until you receive further orders.”
He turned his back on the man, not awaiting a response. Iapetus made his way to his private quarters. He desperately needed a bath.
The tip of the Pyramid Peninsula jutted far out into the sea near the entrance to the bay of Olympia narrowing the strait to a mere thirty miles wide. The mountainous coastline dropped to roughly two hundred feet near the shore and it was here Zeus was constructing the Ripper. The battlements in the craggy peaks on the other side of the bay were much higher and well-fortified, but sheer cliffs down to the water made them accessible only by air and the tunnels of the Sanctuary. Sunk into the base of those cliffs was a cable of twisted steel inlaid with huge, balls spiked with razor-sharp blades, curved at the tips like claws, which stretched across the strait. It terminated in a mammoth limestone building on an island on the edge of the peninsula. Pulled tightly, the Ripper would snag on the timbers and slice the keels out from under any ship attempting to pass through the dark waters.
Unfortunately, the engine that would pull the line taut was unfinished. The twelve-inch, braided steel cord wrapped around an intricate system of pulleys in the stone structure but was still disconnected from the partially constructed motor. The rest lay limp and useless at the bottom of the sea.
“Flark!” Lelantos cursed as he bloodied his knuckles on the machinery for the twentieth time. His wavy, auburn hair was matted against his sweaty neck and bare, broad shoulders. The gold flecks in his narrowed, hazel eyes flashed with sparks of frustration. He tossed his wrench across the room, hearing it clang satisfactorily against piping and metal as it went. “This is impossible! There is simply no way to finish this in a matter of hours! Maybe in days, but we do not have that luxury. The Atlantean fleet will be here soon. Flark!”