Atlantis Reprise

by James Axler

  ‘Thanks for the compliment… I think,’ she said, taking a good look around. ‘Does it strike you that this isn’t too much like a prison?’

  ‘I must confess that the thought had occurred to me. I suspect that the lack of an outside view is determined more by architecture than a desire to keep us incarcerated. It would also be absurd to have such fine hangings and furniture in a cell designed to keep us as demoralized prisoners. I assume, by the by, that you have realized that we are in Atlantis?’

  Krysty was casting a searching eye around the room for the first time. ‘It seemed unlikely that we were anywhere in Memphis, but what makes you sure?’

  Doc pointed out the use of black in the designs. ‘The third occult color. I assume that in Memphis it isn’t used as a way of disowning the past—casting out the darkness in the magic, if you like. It is a trifle simplistic but, commonly, black was bad magic, white good.’

  ‘So just the two of us?’ she added with an acknowledgment to Doc’s explanation.

  ‘It would appear that way, unless the others are being kept elsewhere.’

  ‘Figures. But why would they do that?’

  ‘Why would they take us and leave the others? Only if they had some knowledge of our presence and decided that—’

  ‘Trouble in paradise, right? Some of the escapees didn’t exactly escape. If that was so, then I can understand them taking you. It must be common knowledge that you have an understanding of their religion that is just plain weird for an outsider. But why me?’

  ‘You have some uncommonly beautiful features,’ Doc said softly, indicating her hair. ‘To someone who has little or no experience of mutation, then it could appear—’

  ‘Magic,’ she finished. ‘Great. So we’re in Atlantis, and have no idea where the others are or even—’

  ‘—if they are still alive. Can you remember anything about how we were taken? All I have are a few impressions. Footfalls, preparing defense, then…’

  ‘Eyes,’ Krysty said firmly. ‘I remember eyes that bore into me, sapped all my will. Hypnosis.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ Doc affirmed. ‘We were singled out. The fact that we are now alone… I think that, until we have evidence to the contrary, we have to assume that the others have been chilled.’

  It was something that had been in both their minds since discovering they were alone, but for Doc to finally voice it made it seem just a little more possible.

  ‘Just us, then,’ Krysty said in a small voice. ‘We owe them something. To try…’

  ‘I agree with you, my dear,’ Doc said, briefly laying a hand on her shoulder before looking away, unable to meet her gaze. ‘Now, let us see if we can find some way of getting out of here.’

  There was only one point of exit. That much was obvious. The doorway was ostentatiously covered with plaster carved into spirals, decorated with hieroglyphs. The Atlanteans weren’t overly concerned with decoration, but when they decided to decorate, they did it with some panache. And there, in the middle of the portico on the left-hand side of the door, was an inset combination lock.

  Krysty experimentally pushed at the door, which was solid and unyielding. ‘I didn’t think we’d get that lucky,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Perhaps we will,’ Doc said softly, examining the lock. It was comprised of three rows of stones, four abreast. They were red, white and black, set in an indeterminate pattern, and as he moved them he saw that they worked as a tumbler, moving each way, with no two colors occurring recurrently. ‘An interesting little puzzle. Obviously a color code combination.’

  Krysty watched him fiddle with the tumbler. ‘Yeah, but how many combinations can there be in there before you hit the right one?’ she mused.

  Doc looked up at her and grinned, showing his unusual bright white teeth. ‘Chance is an interesting thing, my dear girl. And frankly, there is very little else occurring right now to take up our time, is there?’

  ‘TIME. IT’S THE ONE THING we need, and the one thing we don’t have,’ Ryan said through gritted teeth.

  ‘When’s it ever been any different?’ replied a laconic J.B.

  ‘True. Don’t make it any the easier, though,’ Mildred added.

  The four of them were in Lemur and Cyran’s main room, seated around the long table. The ville leader and his wife were also here, as well as the sec chief, Mark. Outside in the corridor were the sec men who had been with Lemur and Mark when they had discovered the companions. They were waiting, under guard from a phalanx of sec men in whom Mark had an implicit trust. It didn’t insure their complete fidelity, but Ryan trusted Mark enough to place an equal trust in his judgment. There was little else he could do.

  ‘We shall have to bring all our plans forward and make our attack now,’ the stocky Memphis leader said in an agitated tone, mirrored by the manner in which he was pacing the floor.

  ‘That assumes that we have something that can actually be defined as a plan,’ Mark pointed out. ‘As far as I am aware, it’s been little more than an aim that has receded further into the distance with each setback we have encountered in trying to train a halfway competent force. Indeed, even now I would be loathe to lay claim to our ability to mount a successful operation.’

  ‘Is this true?’ Ryan questioned, fixing the Memphis leader with a steely glare. ‘Stop pacing and answer me. Is there a plan?’

  Lemur stopped, sighed heavily and shook his head. ‘Mark is right. We have this aim, but without having a force worthy of the title, there was little point in making concrete plans. How difficult can it be? Fighting is fighting.’

  ‘Chilling is chilling, buying farm is buying farm.’ Jak spit. ‘Not just fighting. Not done this, always man working without weapons, only tools, yeah?’

  ‘I was a clerk, drawing plans for the vessel, accounting for stone delivery and transportation from origins to building site,’ Lemur said.

  ‘So you haven’t thought about the fact that winning a battle isn’t just about who can hit harder, who has the bigger blaster. Just how did you think you were going to get into Atlantis in the first place?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘I had trust in Mark,’ Lemur said in a small voice.

  ‘And I assumed you had a game plan,’ the sec chief said bitterly. ‘How stupid does that make me?’

  ‘It makes you someone who had trust in your leader,’ Ryan said softly. ‘That’s something you’re supposed to have. Sitting here bitching and fighting over it isn’t going to help us now. We need to get our asses moving if we’re to stand any chance of saving Doc and Krysty.’

  ‘And if we have spies in our midst, then we won’t be safe until they’re expunged. And as that would take some time, the only other option is to try to eradicate their reason for spying,’ Mark said grimly.

  ‘Damn right,’ Mildred agreed. ‘There’s no point in any long-term planning if it could be leaked. And if Odyssey gets anything at all from Doc and Krysty, then he’s going to want to wipe the rest of us out. And shit, he can’t repeat the same trick, because we’ll be wise to it.’

  ‘I still don’t know how the Nightcrawlers managed to get the gate guard to open up, but the sec party on patrol did encounter them on the way,’ Mark added. ‘Two of them were killed, two more rendered unconscious, and four returned unharmed.’

  ‘Then that’s how they gained access,’ Mildred asserted. ‘You’ve got a spy in that sec party.’

  ‘How can that be?’ Cyran queried, a frown wrinkling her otherwise smooth forehead. ‘Two were killed, two more attacked.’

  ‘Dark night, it’s obvious.’ J.B. sighed, as though addressing a slow child. ‘Why were two only knocked out? Why not chill them like the other two? If they were able to get past them without four even seeing them, then why bother even wasting time chilling those two? They didn’t chill anyone unnecessarily while they were within the ville walls, did they?’

  Mark screwed up his face in frustration and slapped his palm against his forehead. ‘I do not deserve my position,’ he said slowly, the frust
ration showing in his strained tones. ‘How could I be so stupid? Kill two, render two unconscious, then it is no surprise if one or the other goes missing during the course of the patrol. The one who leads them to the gates, lures out the guard, and then furthermore leads them to where they can find you.’

  ‘One of the sec party is a spy. A spy with the blood of their fellows—four this night alone—on their hands,’ Cyran intoned.

  ‘Got there in the end,’ Mildred muttered. ‘You people don’t think like fighters, do you?’

  ‘Madam, is it such a surprise?’ Lemur pleaded. ‘We are not, by teaching. Only those who become sec in Atlantis are ever taught such skills. To teach the general populace such things would only invite rebellion from those of us who wished to escape.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Ryan said firmly, standing and gesturing to each of them to calm down. ‘Too many recriminations, not enough action. Mistakes have been made, but screw that. It doesn’t matter now, not after what’s happened. What’s important is that we start—right now—getting it right.’

  Mark nodded. ‘Then we must try to insure that no word can escape from Memphis on this night.’

  ‘How the hell can we insure that?’ J.B. asked. ‘They’ve been damn good at sneaking it out up until now.’

  Mark allowed himself the ghost of a bleak smile. ‘Because we have not been aware of them. Words exchanged within the walls, one on the sec who is not what it seems, a rendezvous or dropping point for a written exposition…it isn’t that hard if you have the security of knowing you have been working undetected. But it may be if we seal the ville.’

  ‘I get you,’ Mildred said, slamming her hand onto the table. ‘Anyone who tries to get over the walls alerts us via the alarm system, so you sew up the only way in which they can get out undetected. Completely reliable gate guards.’

  ‘Precisely.’ Mark nodded. ‘That will have to be some of your people, Ryan. I must stay and liase with yourself and the leader in planning an attack, and I can no longer take as fact that my own people are reliable.’

  The one-eyed man nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I see what you mean. Jak and Mildred would be best. J.B. is my right hand when it comes to planning a firefight. Jak can patrol the walls, Mildred can take the gate. You okay with that?’ he added, turning to the people in question.

  ‘You’re the boss, Ryan,’ Mildred replied with a wry grin. ‘Gotta go with your call.’

  Jak didn’t bother to waste words, merely nodding briefly.

  ‘Good,’ Ryan murmured. ‘Get going, seal this bastard tight. When we’re ready to roll, I’ll fill you in on the game plan.’

  As the two companions left to take up their position, Ryan turned to Lemur and Mark. Cyran drifted away from them, knowing that she wasn’t necessary to the task.

  ‘J.B.’ll need to know exactly what’s in your armory. We also need to know what kind of manpower you can muster, and what we’re facing. Think you can do that quickly?’

  Mark looked up at the ceiling. ‘I can tell you all of that without needing to ascertain detail.’

  Ryan gave the sec chief a crooked grin. ‘Then start talking. Every second counts.’

  MILDRED TOOK UP position by the gates. The two sec men who had replaced those the Nightcrawlers had chilled were nervous, and raised their blasters as she approached, even though they knew who she was. It wasn’t the most encouraging sign she could have wished for. If they were this jumpy right now, what the hell would they be like when they went into combat? She calmed them and explained her orders. None was to leave, and they themselves were not to open or step outside the gates. She didn’t explain why this decision had been reached. If they were spies, then she didn’t want to alert them; if they weren’t, then she didn’t want to start a panic. However, their baffled expressions and bemused questions were open, and told her instinctively that these men weren’t among the traitors.

  It was a start, but as she settled into watch on the gates and the road leading into the silent city, she wondered how many there were like them within the walls, and how many like the scumsucker who had chilled their workmates and allowed the Nightcrawlers to take Doc and Krysty.

  Not knowing was the worst of it. Unless you knew upon whom you could rely, then how could you go into combat knowing that you could devote your full attention to the enemy ahead when, lurking at the back of your mind, was the knowledge that you may have to be watching your back?

  She looked at the two sec men who were on watch with her. Come to that, how could you rely on these poor, nervous, inexperienced fools?

  Shit, she really hoped that Ryan and J.B. had a good plan.

  JAK PROWLED the streets of Memphis, cradling his .357 Magnum Colt Python. He trusted Ryan to find a way that would minimize risks, but, like Mildred, he was unhappy with the caliber of fighter he would have to stand beside. These were good people, who only wanted to be free. But they couldn’t fight for that freedom, and flinging them into combat was little short of sending them off to buy the farm. Which was okay if it was their choice and they were the only ones involved. But their ineptitude could get the companions chilled; perhaps even more relevant in the current circumstances, it could stop them getting to Krysty and Doc, getting them out in one piece if they were still alive.

  And the latter was Jak’s primary concern. Sure, he would follow Ryan’s orders, but ultimately he had no interest in these people. Their choices were theirs alone. They had to be the ones to fight for their liberty, whether it took the shape of weeding out the scum who were spying against their own people, or whether it took the shape of going into a head-on firefight with the forces of Atlantis, risking all to insure their final freedom.

  The streets were deserted as he circled the walls of the ville. No birds or mammals from outside the walls to scent the air, rustle and disturb the peace. Without that scent or sound, Jak felt lost and alone. His entire existence had been spent as a hunter, and to walk along the line where his honed senses could delineate between where there was life—inside—and where there wasn’t—outside—was disorienting. He couldn’t understand how these people could live in such a sterile landscape. Even the frozen lands of the north they had recently escaped carried more life, despite the harsh climate.

  Memory of which made him wonder: Doc. Even at the best of times Doc seemed crazy to him. But he’d been triple crazy when they were in the icy wastes, and still the same when they’d first made the jump. Everyone seemed to think that he’d got back to normal, but Jak wasn’t so sure. There was a kind of feral cunning about him now, as though he were keeping his madness to himself, wrapping it up within him until he felt safe enough to let it out again. And if that happened, then there was no knowing what could occur. Doc was a loose cannon at the best of times. Separated from the others, who knew what he was thinking?

  Fighting with fools was one thing. Against sec as good as the Nightcrawlers was another. But throw in a random factor like a triple crazy Doc, and anything was possible.

  All the while this had been going through his mind, Jak continued his patrol. The empty streets, silent and still under the moon, seemed to mock the concerns that raced through his mind.

  He hoped that Ryan had a plan. A good one…

  ‘THIS IS HOPELESS. We need some kind of plan.’ Krysty sighed, watching as Doc tried yet another combination, pulling and pushing at a door that refused to yield.

  ‘There is little point in having a plan if we cannot even get past the door,’ Doc snapped waspishly. He had been working at the lock for what seemed like hours, and his own patience was also wearing a little thin.

  While he had been doing this, Krysty had been examining the rest of the room, to see if there was any other possible route of escape. An interior room with no obvious ventilation had to have air ducts. But when she found them, she was disappointed—if not surprised—to find that they were far too narrow for any kind of egress.

  The one thing she had learned was that this wasn’t a common cell or even regular room. O
n closer inspection, the furnishings were too fine to be anything other than intended for one of high rank, and on the table were a number of scrolls with hieroglyphs that, even though she could not affect a translation, had an air of some importance around them.

  She concluded that the lock was as much to keep people out as to keep them in. Which was curious. It was almost as though they were guests rather than prisoners.

  ‘Doc, I think we should forget the lock and think about what we’re going to do when our host arrives. That’s what I mean by a plan. He may be our quickest route out of this room, and we need to know what to do next.’

  ‘“He”?’ Doc asked acidly. ‘You mean that you have an inkling of who may be our captor?’

  ‘If I knew what the fuck an inkling was, I might say yes,’ she snapped back. ‘And I could do without sarcasm. You know as well as I do that Odyssey has us, if we’re in Atlantis. But I said host, not captor. I think these are his own quarters, and he’s not going to be treating us as prisoners.’

  Doc said nothing. If she was correct, then Odyssey would not wish to drag information from them with interrogation and torture; he would seek to ingratiate and to form an alliance. This is something that would suit Doc’s purposes very well. If it were so, then he would have little wish to escape. He could strike a bargain…though he was sure Krysty would not feel the same way, hence her insistence on a plan of escape.

  He would have to play the both of them along if he was to get what he wanted. And so the last thing he would want is what happened at that moment.

  Idly, as these thoughts ran through his mind, he had still been spinning the combination lock. To his sudden horror he heard a sound that he would have wanted only scant seconds before. The tumblers hit the right combination and he heard a soft click within the portal as the lock disengaged.

  Cursing to himself, and hoping that Krysty hadn’t heard, he flicked one of the red squares out of sequence, springing the lock back into place. He looked around. Krysty was on the other side of the room, poring over one of the scrolls, trying to make sense of the pictograms. Racking his memory to remember the sequence from which he had started, Doc flicked the combination back, insuring that the lock was exactly as he found it: but not before noting the correct sequence. It might come in useful.