by Gene Stiles
“Why will you not tell us all that transpired after you left?” Phoebe asked sternly.
“Everything is in the report I made to the council,” Iapetus responded with a huff. “There is no more to say on the matter. Inform me if there is the slightest change.”
He spun on his black-booted heels, his robe swirling behind him like a dark cloud, turning his back on the two women. Iapetus slammed open the massive chamber doors as if they were made of tissue, the guards stationed outside nearly crushed by the heavy wood. His stomping feet reverberated off the polished stone floor and echoed down the granite lined hallway. A red fog of anger emanated around him like a living thing, leaving Phoebe to wonder at its source. Was it because she had questioned his word or was the reason much more mysterious and troubling? She stared after his disappearing form, knowing in her heart it was the latter.
“Is there anything else we can do for Cronus?” Rhea asked sitting on the dark green, forest patterned quilt draped over her husband’s still body. Regardless of their difficulties over the past few years, she loved Cronus to the depths of her soul. She gazed down upon him through misty blue eyes, praying to the Creator that once he awoke the man she devoted her life to would be returned to her.
“I have requested that Clymene attend him while we are gone,” Phoebe responded, broken from her reverie. “She will continue to Lend to him in hopes of Healing whatever is keeping him away. That is all we can do at this point. That and pray.”
Phoebe arose, walking around the carved mahogany bed, her shimmering blue gown trailing on the green-grained granite floor. She took Rhea’s hand, the milky whiteness of her own skin standing out in sharp contrast to the sun-browned color of her friend. She said not a word, watching as Rhea carefully crossed Cronus’ hands over his chest then pulled up the quilt to cover them. Phoebe waited silently and patiently until, with a heavy sigh, Rhea rose to join her.
“It is time,” Phoebe spoke softly. “The council meets shortly and there is much to discuss. We are needed.”
“I know,” Rhea nodded, her eyes never leaving her love. “It is just that I am loath to leave him. Should he awaken, I wish to be the one he sees first.”
“I understand,” Phoebe agreed, “but you lead in his stead. I believe your guidance is critical in the matters at hand. Things have changed drastically and decisions must happen quickly. Come with me, my sister. Should things improve with Cronus, you will be the first to know.”
With a last lingering look, Rhea acquiesced, accompanying Phoebe out of the room. Had she but glanced backward, she would have seen the tremors rippling through Cronus like small earthquakes upon his skin.
The noontime sun shone high and yellow in a bright azure sky laced with thin, wispy clouds, its warmth radiating down upon the sparkling city of Atlantis. Tall towers lined with banks of wide windows caught the brilliant rays, reflecting them upon the busy streets below. Walking along storefronts or skimming down the smooth stone roads, the People seemed to move with a new vitality and fresh purpose, a spring in their steps and smiles returning to once dour faces.
A great many changes were taking place since the return of Cronus and Iapetus and most of them were well received. Shipments of wood, stone and ores regularly came in from the outposts along the edges of the vast continent fueling growing industries of goods and services. The compound where the Izon once resided had been converted to storage houses, the valley beyond cultivated into rich farmlands. The black, loamy soil proved ideal for planting and seeds spread out a short month ago as spring leapt beyond the snows of winter now sprouted new, exotic provisions for the city.
Food sources became of paramount importance once the council learned that few of the seedlings brought from Atlan would reproduce in this alien soil. Besides the One Tree, the only crops that thrived here were maze and wheat, exploding into a profusion never witnessed in the hydroponic gardens on the old world. Before they fled, the People learned much from Haleah and the Clan about which native life forms were fit for consumption and which were not, what herbs added sweet spice to gamey meats and which were good for preservation.
With little doubt, the greatest change to the spirit of the People came from Iapetus. Upon his return, he sent the Black Guard to the outposts, reassigning more moderate Aam to duties within the city. His reasoning was sound. With the Izon on the loose, the outlying settlements might be open to attack and, thus, required a stronger force for protection. Those Aam sympathetic to the plight of the Clan, might be more willing to aid them than engage with them. Whatever his reasoning, the personnel changes Iapetus instituted had a positive effect upon the city. The stagnant pall of fear overhanging the streets and alleyways slowly lifted as a cooling breeze might clear the dense smoke of a damp, leafy campfire.
Thorina glided along the smooth, melted stone streets of Atlantis, her back straight, her long, shapely, athletic legs chewing up the distance as she made her way through winding thoroughfares and alleyways. A reddish orb, half hidden by thick bands orange and white clouds, hung low in the western sky, just above the jagged mountaintops. Her square jawline clamped tightly as she ground her teeth together with a crunching sound. The top of the low hillside that marked the end of the colony was still a fair distance off and there was little time left. Thorina lengthened her stride and turned the dial on her Polaris-Unit to lighten her weight and make the steady uphill climb easier on her tiring muscles. She had to reach the roof of the domed building before the sun set below the horizon.
If her fears were correct, Atlantis could be in serious trouble. There was little doubt in her mind. No other member of the People could match her intuition and engineering skills or her innate ability to see minute changes in mechanical patterns. It was her skill, not her incredible beauty, exotic even among the People, which put her in charge of all the utilities in Atlantis and, more specifically, the power systems. The power systems are what troubled her so deeply now.
Thorina weaved her way through the multitude of people filling the city streets on their way home from the day’s labors and the children playing hiding games in the waning light. She ignored the many stares that followed her flaming red hair fanning around her like the corona of the sun and the openly sexual appraisals at her ample chest, straight shoulders and almost too narrow waist. Her glittering green eyes were fixed on the high, domed building that loomed at the end of the street, now just a few feet away.
“Welcome, Thorina,” Coeus said, welcoming her in the carved wood doorway with a wave of his hand. He stood just a head taller than her, but seemed shorter for his back was stooped from so many years bent over gazing into his vast array of intricate instruments. His hazel eyes shone with constant excitement that matched the kindly smile that always graced his generous lips. His wavy cinnamon hair, hanging just below his thick neck, was always in disarray around his long, oval face as if it had never been touched by comb or brush.
Coeus ushered Thorina up the lift to the top of the three-story building to the massive, curved, sliding doors of the observatory. The giant crystal lens of the electronic telescope was scanning the night sky, streams of data flowing into the rotating, many faceted pyramid above the computer banks along one wall of the round, well lit chamber. Beneath the metallic tube that ended just behind sliding, borithium panels, a stone pathway led to a large half-walled balcony overlooking the brilliant, multi-colored city below. The Great Pyramid stood like a brushed bronze mountain in the center of Atlantis, capped with the golden globe of the Proto-Sun, held high in a cradle in the palms of four silver, artistically rendered hands.
It was this man-made sun that Thorina was here to observe and the object that filled her soul with a growing, gnawing dread. What her calculations inferred could only be physically witnessed as the sun slipped behind the horizon and would only last for a few seconds. She was here to pray to the Creator that she was wrong. The fate of all of Atlantis might well rest in her observations. She was so grateful that Coeus, her mentor and a member of t
he Table, would be at her side.
“I do hope you have made an error in judgment,” Coeus said in a near whisper, handing Thorina a pair of polarized lens to protect her eyes against the glare of the Proto-Sun. He stared out at city as the last rays of the red orb above disappeared behind the jagged peaks of the snow-capped mountains and twilight descended upon the city below.
“As do I,” Thorina replied, thanking him for the lenses and slipped them over her eyes. She touched the edge of the frame and the goggles darkened just enough to prevent damage as she peered intently at the glowing globe atop the main pyramid. “They will be turning the power up in a moment. Carefully watch and tell me what you see.”
As nighttime fell and the city lights came alive, the brightness of the Proto-Sun expanded to cloak the valley in the soft, golden light of a false dawn. Shadows among the buildings and along the bustling streets faded into shades of gray as the People moved happily along their evening activities. Lines formed in front of the singing doors of the Wind Song, jeweled gowns, glittering, patterned cloaks and an amazing assortment of richly beautiful clothing marked the joy of the city.
Not a single person in the teeming streets noticed the swirling, dark crimson fluctuations that churned like the clouds of a coming thunderstorm near the bottom of the glowing sphere as power increased to meet the demand. The stain spread out like a deadly virus eating at the soul of the golden glow within. It lasted only the length of a few breaths so if a person was not staring at the top of the Great Pyramid at that exact moment, the phenomena was invisible to the naked eye.
It was not invisible to Thorina. The moment the angry mass rose from those open palms, she inhaled sharply, holding her breath until the sun storm faded into nothingness. Her troubled mind counted off the seconds from beginning of that horrifying event until its sudden conclusion and a cold shiver rippled up her spine. She glanced over at Coeus, her green eyes shimmering with the wetness of unfallen tears.
Thorina felt the cold grip of fear surrounding her fast beating heart when she saw him. His slender, blue-veined hands crushed the edges of the thin rock half-wall into trickles of powder that fell between his fingers. He stood tall and straight, shoulders back, his body as rigid as a pillar of granite. Any trace of his perpetual smile was wiped away by the process he witnessed in the Proto-Sun, knowing as she did of what it portended.
“It is true,” Coeus said, his voice chipped and sharp edged. “There was, of course, no reason to doubt your conclusions, but to see this with my own eyes is terrifying.”
“We are running out of power,” Thorina replied grimly, her voice crackling like the changing range of a young girl. “The chain reaction within the system is breaking down. The uridium goblets are reaching the end of their lifespan. If we do not find a replacement element, I fear it will shut down completely within four short Terrain years. And if this globe fails…”
“…shortly after, all other globes will follow,” Coeus finished. With both sweaty hands, he brushed his unruly hair from his high forehead, back over his almost pointed ears and gazed at Thorina as if she had just handed him a death sentence. His dark, limpid eyes took in the shine of her eyes and he nodded in understanding. Taking her warm, soft hand in his, Coeus led her down to the large seating area opposite the computer banks at the base of the telescope. He sat her in a big, black, plush-cushioned chair and dropped onto a long, matching couch across from her.
“If our energy sources fail,” Thorina said, her words bitten through her pinched lips, “all of our technology fails.”
“We would be thrown into the age of the Izon.” Coeus held his pointed chin in his palms, his elbows resting upon his knees. “It would be far worse for us though. The Clan had millennium to learn the ways of the land. The People know of no other life without their communicators, holos, V-Screens, Polaris sleds and home lighting. There would be untold panic throughout Atlantis.”
“We have already seen some signs.” Thorina leaned conspiratorially near the glazed oak short-table between them. “So many weapons have failed of late that the Aam are searching our ancient archives for alternative arms. What happens to the common People if our sciences are not here to aid them?”
“We must call an emergency council meeting at once,” Coeus stated firmly. “They must be informed and plans need to be laid.” He arose and paced behind the couch, his shoulders slumped once again and his hands entwined at the small of his back. “I will arrange it for tomorrow evening. Would you be so kind as to make the presentation, my dear?”
“Of course,” Thorina nodded, looking up at her friend, noticing for the first time his two hundred Earth-year age weighing down upon his slender frame. Even his youth seemed to seep from his frightened bones in this dark hour. She understood it well. Yes, she understood it only too well.
“The wheat grows high in the meadow and the maize rows are already at two feet.” Oceanus sat askew at the far end of the oval, polished wood table gazing out of the fogged windows toward the towering green branches of the One Tree. The brown trousers he wore were stained with mud and dirt, dark patches marking his kneecaps. His sleeveless, tan V-neck tunic was open to the center of his barrel chest, exposing sun-darken skin and curls of thick black hair. He ran a wide, callused hand over the dark brown dome of his boulder-shaped head, a contented smile playing across his thick lips. Oceanus rested his muscled forearm on the table, turned to the five-foot wide crystal screen lowered behind him. He turned the small quartz pyramid resting on the table before him and continued his address to the council.
“As you can see,” he said, motioning at the new three-dimensional images appearing on the monitor, “the crops are doing exceedingly well such as the wild tomatoes, beans, berries and tubers we have managed to cultivate from the forests.” He seemed well satisfied with his progress, but added, “We still need to send out survey teams to scan and evaluate other nutritional sources to be transplanted here. I do believe, added to fresh game and our own supplements, food is no longer a concern for the People.”
“The rivers, streams and the seas,” Rhea interjected with a smile from the other end of the room, “are rampant with fishes of untold variety, the like of which never even existed on Atlan. Our new home is indeed a paradise and we must treat her accordingly. Many thanks to the Creator.”
Her smile dimmed to non-existence as she looked at the empty high-backed chair beside her. She saw in her mind’s eye the still and silent form lying in the bedroom she had left so recently. ‘If only he could see,’ she whispered within, ‘he would be so proud of all he has wrought. Wake up, my love. Wake up.’
Waiting for the smiles and congratulations to fade away, Coeus slowly eased himself from his high-backed, black leather chair and stood silently before the Twelve. His shoulders were more slumped than unusual, his demeanor dour and worrisome. From the pocket of his dark brown, brushed gingham pants he withdrew a sliver of quartz and spun it slightly on the table. He raised he head, letting his wavy hair hang unfettered over his narrow, muscled chest. When he was sure all attention was upon him, his strong, smooth, silky voice echoed around the room.
“There is still the bigger, more immediate issue we must address,” he said gravely. Hearing the gravity in his normally jovial disposition, the mummers and muted conversations around the table ceased at once. “It affects the very foundation of our existence so I wished for you to hear whatever good news was possible before I burdened you with such calamity.”
“The Proto-Suns are failing,” he stated flatly.
A shocked hush fell like a dark, gloomy curtain over the entire room. Faces registered horrified recognition, unmitigated disbelief and pure terror at the ramifications of that short, single sentence. It passed quickly as the sudden quiet erupted into a chaos of conversation, the words unintelligible in the commotion.
“Impossible!” Iapetus grunted, turning from the shadowed corner where he stood staring out at the glistening city below, his deep bass voice rumbling over the room li
ke an explosion of thunder. His heavy brow furrowed like a fresh plowed field and his ebony eyes burned into the council. He crossed his heavily corded arms over his wide, powerful chest and glared at Coeus as if the older man had lost his mind. “In the immeasurable history of the People, no such thing has ever happened!”
“In the history of the People,” Coeus responded grimly, raising his hand for quiet, “we have never been without uridium, the radioactive element that fuels the suns. Please allow me to turn this discussion over to Thorina, she who discovered the abnormalities occurring in the system. As the chief engineer of our city systems, she is best to explain her findings.”
“I must add,” he said, taking a moment to lock eyes with everyone seated and standing before him before returning to his chair, “I have witnessed her conclusions first hand and know, deep within my own heart that what she says must be taken as absolute certainty. Thorina, please.”
Thorina rose from the long dark couch, her waist-length, fiery red hair catching the sunlight and exploding in a corona around her beautiful, sun-tanned face. Her high cheekbones, straight, narrow nose, sensuous, pink lips and sparkling green eyes would have made her the inspiration for the finest of artists, yet her squared jaw gave her a tough, confident look. She strode to the council table on long, athletic legs highlighted by the tight, red body suit she wore. She received more than one glance of appreciation at the grace of her wide hips, the straight shoulders and the fluidity of her movements. Her greatest gift, by far, was a sharp intelligent mind that could grasp and hold concepts beyond reach of most of the People. She stood next to Coeus, placing one hand upon her mentor’s shoulder and taking the crystal shard from his fingertips. She touched the side of the device and the frightful video taken of the rotating Proto-Sun appeared on the screen behind her.
“When we first awoke within our ships,” she began solemnly and without preamble, “I noted that our power levels were far lower than they should have been for the hundred year deep sleep we had planned. You all noticed this in the harsh sickness and weakness we all felt upon awakening. It is also why our engines, that took us across the vastness of space, could not lift the ships from beneath the heavy layer of rocks that encased us.”