by Gene Stiles
“I would see this device,” Zeus said firmly, hoping the sight might assuage his fears. “Would you mind showing me?”
Zeus and the Trinity were joined by an ancient-looking Nillian when they stepped through the gigantic archway that led into the courtyard before the Great Pyramid. He was slightly bent as if the weight of the tonnage of stonework surrounding him rested upon his weary, stooped shoulders. His skin had a wrinkled leather appearance that was darkly tanned by centuries in the blistering sun. The man wore a plain beige shift over his frail-looking, slender frame that fell to his knees and was pulled tightly around his skinny waist by a simple, black leather belt. On his narrow, sharp-chinned head, he wore the cylindrical hat decorated with bands of color favored by his people.
It was his eyes that truly caught Zeus’ attention. In spite of his fragile, elderly appearance, they were a bright sky blue and blazed with warmth and intelligence. His voice was strong and steady as it passed between his thin, tan lips and the hand that gripped Zeus by the forearm was firm and hard.
“I am Samiphorim,” the old man said, his demeanor kind and friendly. “Welcome, Lord Zeus.”
“Thank you for having me,” Zeus replied earnestly. “I appreciate you taking time from your important tasks to show me around.”
“My honor, sir,” Samiphorim said as he led the party across the well-tended garden and toward the mammoth carved-granite entrance to the pyramid.
Most of the courtyard was filled with gracefully sculpted bushes, low-cut green grasses and benches of polished marble. Running through the center was a cross-shaped boulevard that followed the cardinal points of the compass. It cut straight across the enclosure to the west to another matching archway like the one they entered through, to the north toward the pyramid and south to the mouth of an endless-looking tunnel. Zeus knew it led to a man-made channel of the River Nil and the docks built alongside it.
“Give your eyes a moment to adjust,” Samiphorim said once they were inside the pyramid. “Even though it is well-lit in here, the light is defused and different from the sun. I know it always throws me off for a few seconds,” he smiled, “but, then again, I am old.”
“Watch your head,” he said, leading them down a long, narrow stone staircase. “This passage is designed to support an incredible amount of weight so we kept it as small as possible.”
Samiphorim ran his hand along the smooth, cool stone to steady himself as he went downward. “Once the Message has been sent, it will be sealed to prevent any intruders from reaching the power systems and the delicate electronics within.”
“Why would you care?” Zeus asked, his broad shoulders brushing the walls. He could feel sweat beading on his furrowed forehead as he descended. He was not claustrophobic, but the tightness of the corridor grated on his nerves. Zeus felt as if the thousands of tons of stone above were crushing him. Now he knew why Samiphorim was so stooped.
“We do not know how long it will take for the Message to travel to the stars nor when it might be answered,” Ra answered behind him. “Should catastrophe overtake us before then, we do not wish to leave such power in the hands of people we do not know.”
They finally reached a small, flat, open space in the corridor. The ceiling was much higher here and Zeus felt relieved to stand up fully. He stretched his arms and arched his stiff back, hearing the vertebrae pop and crackle. The hallway split here with another staircase leading sharply upward while this passage continued deep below the surface. A set of heavy granite doors sealed subterranean portion of the shaft from the rest of the structure.
“Samiphorim,” Zeus asked as he stared at those incredibly massive doors, “why is that section sealed off?”
“The energy core resides down there. It is incredibly dangerous,” was the reply. “And please call me Sami,” the old man said as he grinned at Zeus. “It is far easier to say.”
“As you wish and thank you,” Zeus said, smiling back. He looked upward with a sigh. ‘Another closet to walk through,’ he thought. ‘Wonderful.’
Light strips lined the floor and ceiling on both sides keeping the interior bright and a steady current of air flowed around them as they walked upward. Two other sets of pipes lay next to the fiber strips near the ceiling. One, Sami explained, held power cables and the other electronic fiber optics. Water was moved through yet another set of pipes in the corners of the floor.
Almost halfway up the passage, the corridor opened into a huge chamber, corbelled almost to a peak nearly thirty feet above them. Raised ramps on either side of the incline held square metal pipes held up by regularly spaced, steel stanchions set in small notches in the rock. A gigantic set of metallic pipes rose from the floor and branched out in two directions, one connected to the square pipes, the other leading into another room as yet unseen.
“This is as far as we go upward,” Sami told Zeus as they stopped at the base of the chamber. He wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand and dried it off on his shift. “Above us is the actual apparatus that will send the Message. These devices,” he said, his hand upon one of the square pipes, “are harmonic amplifiers which strengthen the signal. This section of hallway is acoustically designed to absorb and deflect any residual energy into the stone of the pyramid. If we did not do this, the vibrations could bring the whole structure down upon our heads.”
Zeus eyed the walls and ceiling around him with leery concern. To think of all that weight falling down on him increased his fervent desire to leave this tomb-like place. “The device is not on right now, is it?” he asked, his voice echoing around him unpleasantly.
“No, no, no.” Sami laughed aloud, the walls making the sound long and ominous to Zeus. “We are far from being ready to turn the system on as yet.”
“Would you like to see the control room?” he asked, pointing to a tight-looking entrance before them. “It houses the computers and systems that will run the equipment when all the programming is completed. All procedures are remotely activated from outside in the command center so there is little to see.”
“That will not be necessary,” Zeus replied, anxious to feel the sun upon his face and to breathe unfiltered air. “I have seen enough and thank you.”
Once they had crawled outside, Zeus unconsciously sucked in the fresh air as if he had been drowning in water. He stretched his aching muscles and luxuriated in the feel of the hot sunshine upon his flesh. Zeus barely heard the details of Sami’s constant commentary as the group made their way toward the dining hall just outside the courtyard. What he did register was the old man’s pride and excitement in his accomplishments.
“You are to be commended,” Zeus said as they took seats around a long table and ordered wine and food from the white-robed staff. “What you have created is beyond imagination and incredible.” He still felt uneasy, but it was not because of the confined spaces they just left. The whole idea of the project gnawed at his mind. “I admit the science is well outside of my understanding, but I do have a few questions.”
“We will do our best to answer,” Ra said as he nibbled on strong, yellow cheese and sipped icy cold water from a crystal goblet. He did not admit it to his guest, but Ra was also glad to be out of the pyramid. “Please ask.”
“Thank you,” Zeus responded, his golden eyes dark with the multitude of thoughts swirling in his mind. “First, why are the hallways and rooms so cramped? I could barely fit in some places. Why not make them much larger so it would be easier to move about?”
“The pyramid is not intended to house workers or people,” Samiphorim replied, his wrinkled face alight with excitement. “Once the systems are activated, it would be unsafe for anyone to be inside. The vibrations would tear them apart. Anything not installed during construction has been finished by our smaller Izon brethren. Everything will be sealed when all work is completed. If you would like more detailed scientific descriptions, I can provide it.”
“Gracious, no!” Zeus said with a small grin and a wave of his hand. “You would only confuse me more. I
am not all that bright.”
Isis chuckled at his self-deprecation. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she said, “You give yourself too little credit. You forget. We have all seen what you have accomplished and it is remarkable.”
“That is only because I surround myself with people far smarter than me,” Zeus said with a smile. Returning his attention to Samiphorim, he said, “The Great Pyramid is majestically impressive, to be sure, but why is it so much larger than the other two?”
“The smaller of the pyramids supplies energy to our city and factories,” Ra replied before Samiphorim could speak. He untied the strip of leather that held back his hair and shook his head to free his honey-blond mane. “The second beams power to our other outposts and settlements along a network of other structures since they cannot create power plants of their own.”
Seeing Zeus’ raised eyebrow, Samiphorim answered the next question before it could be asked. “Cydonian energy is far more powerful and efficient than Atlantean Proto-Sun technology. It is literally light-years beyond your capability. That is why it is buried far below the surface and sealed off in thick-walled chambers and not set atop the pyramids as yours are in Atlantis.”
“Like the Cydonian armor,” Isis added, glancing at Ra. At his nod, she continued, “It cannot be duplicated further than in these three pyramids.”
“You see,” Sami explained to the confused-looking Zeus, “the key component in the energy systems is an element not found anywhere on this planet. All that we have comes from the soil in the hydroponic gardens of the crashed Cydonian vessel. There is no more.”
“But back to your original question,” Samiphorim said, his gnarled fingers drawing strange patterns on the tabletop. “The Great Pyramid houses the largest power plant since the energy required to keep the wavelength of the Message in a tight, narrow beam that can cut through subspace is enormous. The size and construction of the edifice is designed to protect the world from such incredible and potentially destructive power. It is as simple and as complicated as that.”
“It is also one of the many reasons we have no desire to expand our empire outside of this continent no matter what Cronus may think,” Ra finished as he stared at Zeus. “We could not broadcast the energy any further if we wanted to. It is also why we did not supply you or Atlantis with this power source. We simply could not.”
Zeus shook his head, now more concerned than ever. “Creator! I shudder to think of such forces in the hands of the Lord Father. He would tear down your pyramids and use the energy to create unholy weapons. Cronus would then rule the world with an unstoppable iron fist.”
“That, friend Zeus,” Isis said, taking his hand and staring deeply into his eyes, “is why we do not enter your family feud beyond our borders and is also why your protection is so sorely needed.”
“Now to the other reason you are here,” Ra said, his blue eyes as dark and cold as a mountain glacier. “This is how we can help you.”
When Zeus left Nil a few days later, he took with him a ten-ship squadron of warbirds and pilots to fly them. Two cargo vessels filled with Nillian weaponry followed a few days behind as well as a small group of scientists that volunteered to assist Olympus in their study of the shipments of arms seized by Poseidon. Their findings would also be relayed to the Trinity so they could develop adequate defenses.
From all he learned, Zeus knew it was more vital than ever to break the control of the Lord Father and the power of Atlantis. It was time for the next stage of the war.
Chapter VI
A thick, low blanket of fog rolled through the empty streets like some kind of ghostly serpent. It crawled through the alleyways and slithered around the fluted bases of empty water fountains as if sniffing the ground for the scent of people who should be up and moving by now. The mist swirled around closed doorways and peeked its wraith-like head over the sills of unlit windows, smoke-like fingers leaving dripping traces of moisture on the cold glass. All the shifting apparition found was empty houses and lifeless, barren storefronts.
“What in the Creator’s name happened here?” Bularian stood in the threshold of a vacant dry goods store staring at the empty shelves and unused racks. His dark eyes peered into the gloom and watched as an eddy of fog slipped past his black-booted feet and spread across the dusty wood floor. “This is the sixth town we have found like this in the last month.”
“I do not know,” Murilaine whispered behind him as if loath to break the eerie silence enshrouding the deserted village. She pulled her woolen cloak tighter around her not only to keep out the chilly air but to hide from the demons she imagined watching her from every dark shadow. “I do, however, believe we should leave this forsaken place as quickly as possible,” she said, a shudder of fear rippling up her stiffened spine.
A blood-red sun was rising behind them, its sickly-looking rays filtered through the thin band of dark clouds that clung stubbornly to the eastern horizon. The light breeze that slinked ashore from the small docks where the Sunstream was moored was weak and tentative as if it, too, feared to disturb some primordial evil that now inhabited the desolate, barren town.
“Another one?” the First Mate asked, his dark blue eyes narrowed and his voice glum and heavy as his Captain walked stonily up the gangway of the small cargo vessel.
“Aye, Effineous,” Bularian replied gloomily, running a thick-fingered hand through his short curly brown hair. “Another one. Cast off the lines and make ready to sail up the coast. We will not be unloading anything here today.”
The tall, pillar of a man stomped across the deck on his way to his quarters with his Quartermaster in tow. His crew hurried about their tasks in complete silence, glancing nervously over their shoulders at the unnaturally still, ominous village. Some felt sightless eyes upon them from the rooftops and thought they heard a soft moaning as if the dead were calling out for them to stay. Even Captain Bularian, a trained warrior and experienced seaman, felt as if a thousand slimy worms crawled across his bare flesh. He would be glad when his ship was far out in the clean, fresh sea once again.
“At this rate,” Murilaine muttered as she dropped heavily onto the padded leather sofa, “we will go broke by the end of the season.” The Quartermaster thanked the cabin boy for the hot mug of dark tea and stared at the steam swirling in the cup. She shivered at the reminder of the coiling mists within the village. “We will have to try to sell off the excess cargo at our next stop.”
Captain Bularian tapped his fingers on the polished teak arm of his chair, his thin lips stretched tightly across his rounded jawline. “Something very strange is going on here,” he said sullenly, knowing they would take a loss on this voyage. “There are no signs of an invading army or any kind of sickness. Why would people just up and leave their homes and disappear without a trace? More importantly, where did they go?”
“Good questions, to be sure,” Murilaine replied softly. She absently fingered the frayed end of the long, blond braid that fell over her gently sloped shoulder and into the deep cleavage of her ample chest. Her greenish-blue eyes were still haunted by visions of the village and the nightmarish scenarios filling her mind. “Even the larger cities we have visited seem subdued and expectant. It is as if a violent storm is coming and they are preparing for it.”
“You noticed that, too?” Bularian asked, grateful to feel the hum of the ship’s small engine taking them out of the harbor. He stared through the stern windows and watched the corpse of a town slip into the wispy mist. “I thought it was only me. The dockmen still hurry about their tasks. Everyone greets us with smiles and politeness. The cities continue to bustle with activity. Yet, there is a pall in the air much like the fog we left behind.”
“The scary part is that no one speaks of it,” Murilaine said as she stretched legs tight with tension. “They all give the appearance of normalcy, but I find the hair on the back of my neck standing up and I am always looking back over my shoulder.”
“We will have to inform Atlantis of this,” the Ca
ptain said with a sigh as he took a deep swallow of his drink. “We need to tell them at once.”
For the first time since Cronus disbanded the council, most of the Twelve gathered together in the chamber near the top of the Great Pyramid of Atlantis. Only Oceanus, Tethys and Rhea were not present around the huge mahogany table. No one spoke of it, but it was believed they had died during the Lord Father’s barbaric attack on Olympia. Even the now reclusive Hyperion was in attendance, though he sat with Coeus and Phoebe as far from Cronus as he possibly could. What he had to say was vital to the city or he would not be here at all. Hyperion hated Cronus with his every fiber of his being and even sharing the same air with him was repulsive, but the safety and survival of Atlantis was far more important than his personal feelings.
“This is the thirteenth report we have received of abandoned villages,” Thea said as she stood before her peers. Her large emerald eyes were narrowed in concertation as she pointed toward the images of empty streets displayed upon the huge wall monitor. “All along the Prubrazian coast, smaller towns and settlements seem to have been left for no apparent reason. There are no signs of any damage by a firefight or natural disaster. All supplies and personal belongings are gone along with the people. They simply vanished.”
Thea shook her head in worried wonder, her cloak of long, golden-blond hair fell over her shoulders as she lowered her face and sighed. “I do not understand it at all.”
“That is not all,” Themis took over as her twin sister sat back down. Her full, red lips were terse upon her contoured oval face and her brow was crinkled above her thin, straight nose. “Even in the larger cities, people have gone missing. My people tell me populations have dropped in almost all cities by ten to twenty-six percent with the largest amounts coming from the more remote locations. The continent of Atlantis is not immune to these vanishings, but has seen the least amount of disappearances.”
“There is a vibration in the air,” Thea added from her chair. She stared at Cronus as if this was all his fault. “A sense of impending doom. No one speaks of it, but I have seen the indications with my own eyes. The People are quieter and sullen. They jump at shadows and look over their shoulders constantly.”