Not much, but some. He had the stolen Hod ship and a few bits of Olympian technology with him. His main restriction was that if he did leave a trail then it had to be devoid of anything that could link the Peruvian landing party to the Aesir.
Thankfully, the technological restrictions would be unnecessary for Vili and his crew after 48 hours. At that point, Earth would be in a two-way communication dead zone from the damaged Svalinn shield, preventing any remaining Olympians from calling for help or warning about the treason of the Aesir.
Vili took out a device resembling a thin, palm-sized disk from the breast pocket on the inside of his jacket. The device had been tracking his movements since he landed on Earth and estimating both the total number of infected individuals and Descendants. He held the device flat in his hand and a hologram popped up, displaying ‘50 million Individuals; 32 Descendants.’
Satisfied with the estimates, Vili flipped the device over to view a countdown. One hour. He breathed a sigh of relief. He knew the margin of error would be small and he stayed within that boundary. Throughout the day, in addition to the viruses, he released five modified Dolos patches. Resembling a paper thin black square measuring 3-by-3-centimeters in size, these devices were mainly deployed to track movement and record conversations. The patches had extremely thin propellers that rose from their center and corners, giving them the ability to fly short distances. Moreover, they were programmed with a low-level AI, and could sense their surroundings and follow simple instructions.
Sigyn had programmed these patches to recognize objects exhibiting the ability to fly, and attach to them. Once they were attached, they would wait until the object took flight and reached an altitude of 150 meters for more than 30 seconds; they then would release a powerful radio broadcast. After broadcasting, the patches would self-destruct once they fell below 150 meters in altitude.
Vili released them near airports, ensuring they would attach to planes. The devices were designed to repeat a message from the Aesirians to Earth’s inhabitants in the five most commonly spoken languages: Chinese, Spanish, English, Hindi, and Arabic. The messages will mainly cause confusion and humor at first, but that will change to panic when the Svalinn shield “reverses” and humans can gaze unfiltered into space.
After the shield is reversed, we’ll only have about a week before it fails entirely. If we haven’t purged all Olympians from Earth by then we’ll have to retreat and hope this attack isn’t linked to the Aesir. And I would have failed; a failure my people won’t forget. Would that be how I’m remembered? Not for leading a revolution and ending the gruesome experimentation of the Aesir so long ago, but for failing to regain sovereignty after my brother, Odin, failed to integrate us?
Vili gazed out the window and pushed the thoughts of failure from his mind. It doesn’t matter how I’m remembered—what matters is the well-being of my people.
Act I, Chapter 8
Atlas
Location: Southern Peruvian Coast
Atlas did not speak to Athena on their way to Peru, and she did not try to initiate conversation either. He was still acclimating to the world while trying to ignore the ambiance offered by the Cessna: ceaseless, sharply intoned humming from the propeller and periodic buffeting by the wind. Atlas doubted his cognitive faculties would return fully until he was free from the raucous plane and he didn’t want to press Athena for details until then.
He gazed out over the oddly-shaped Nazca mountain range that burst to life as Athena guided their plane out of the clouds. The majority of the terrain displayed topography expected when a planets’ crust pushed and climbed over itself, struggling to raise its crowded peaks ever higher in the air. Water erosion marked every side of the structures, as if giant fingers lazily attempted to tapper the tops.
A few of the mountains were abruptly stunted, though. A surreal, unnatural shape that led to one’s eyes gliding too far when gazing from base to summit. The mountains, instead of ending in sharp crescendos, were completely flattened. Some had enormous humanoid and animal images drawn in the dirt, messages the ancient humans meant for the heavens.
The flattened tops, likely created by a Primordial race that Atlas couldn’t recall, looked like landing strips. In fact, they probably were, but those weren’t details Atlas considered for more than an instant. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to calm the burrowing sensation behind his forehead, while Athena landed their plane.
As soon as Athena cut power to the engines she swung her door open and marched out over the mountain. Atlas felt a pang of frustration that his body was still recovering from hibernation and, as a result, he moved much slower after her. He exited through his side of the Cessna and meandered toward Athena. She had her eyes shut and arms outstretched, trying to feel the epicenter of the gravitational disturbance that tugged on their skin. Atlas began to shift his weight and pace a bit, trying to relieve his body of the lingering hibernation symptoms: a draining migraine and general stiffness. Athena spoke up as he was just beginning to feel the sensation of normalcy course through his body.
“We were unprepared.”
You were unprepared. I’ve been in a forced coma for who-knows-how-long. “Unprepared or not, who the hell would even attempt this? There are what—two civilizations left in the galaxy that would dare challenge us?”
“A lot has changed since you went into hibernation. The entire galaxy is preparing for war, but no conflict has arisen yet. This might be the start of it,” Athena replied with a hint of disdain.
“I didn’t ‘go’ into hibernation—I was forced. It wasn’t my idea to ship my ass out to the end of the galaxy as the last line of defense for these ‘essential’ experiments.” The soothing return to normalcy Atlas felt immediately prior to the conversation was rapidly collapsing into an irritating heat. His rise to anger caught him off guard, as he had the sudden urge to hit Athena. Fucking hibernation effects.
Atlas took a deep breath before speaking up again. It was clear she was ignoring his outburst. Good. I’m not ready to make enemies with you, yet. “What makes these experiments so important to the Council anyway?”
“I don’t know…” Athena’s mind was clearly elsewhere. “I think I’ve learned all I can from this spot. Let’s keep moving. There’s a good chance we’re being hunted, and I don’t plan on being easy prey.”
“And go where? Why run if we’re being hunted? Let’s stay here until they show up, and kill ‘em. I’m here to defend Earth, not explore it.”
Athena still wasn’t paying attention—or she was intentionally ignoring him. He gave her another few moments to respond before speaking up again. “How much time do we have?”
She didn’t respond.
Atlas was finding it harder to fight back his rage. Beyond his biochemistry trying to find a comfortable baseline post-hibernation, Athena had a knack for pissing him off. I need to be careful around her—she’s not an ally, and likely never will be.
Atlas followed her back to the plane to sit in silence once again as she started the old, seemingly unstable engine.
“I think it was a Hades vessel,” Athena said, breaking the silence. “But I’m not sure where the hull is, or where the intruders escaped to after landing.”
Atlas grunted in response. He didn’t know what a Hades vessel was and didn’t care.
He looked out over the Peruvian plains. The bare and desolate mountains slowly gave way to an endless ocean. The vastness of the ocean added weight to Atlas’ feeling of disconnect with the rest of the galaxy. How long have I been in hibernation? Have the Olympians continued to prosper? Did they still hold me in contempt for my actions? Atlas didn’t regret what he did during the Fracturing—it was war. He knew he helped more Olympians than he hurt; however, he wasn’t sure if the Olympus Council shared his views. What else could I have done? Our society was dying. Our leadership was lacking. Olympia had never been in a war like that before.
Atlas had seen and fought with species that had technology tha
t seemed as magical to him as what humans must have thought of the Olympians thousands of years ago. Friends died. Enemies celebrated. Tough decisions were made.
During the vast majority of the war, the Fracturing hinted at no resolution other than complete annihilation of Olympia. The conflict openly trudged across the lands and people Atlas cherished, staining his society with an indelible scent of death and despondence. Olympia’s leaders focused on preserving the untarnished instead of reclaiming the fallen and expanding into their opponents’ territory. Atlas refused to casually glide along with the strategic incompetence of his leaders into easily obtainable extinction. He decided to act.
He created a small task force to act as deserters from the Olympian forces. His plan was to gain the trust of the main opposing Primordial force, the Anunnaki, by trading information for immunity in the impending defeat of Olympia. When the time was right, he would betray the Anunnaki by killing his contacts and smuggling information regarding attack plans, defenses, and weapons research back to the Olympus Council. It was hard to gain their trust though. While working as a double agent, Atlas and his task force killed many Olympians to maintain their cover. Eventually, after enough murder and subterfuge, he gained the trust of the Anunnaki. His mind lingered on his last acts in the war before his forced hibernation.
* * *
Atlas had just received instructions from the Anunnaki to smuggle a device to one of the last Olympian strong-holds: a solar system mid-way between the center of the galaxy and the edge where the Earth resides. It was at the heart of Olympian territory and functioned as a secure location for both civilians and weapons manufacturing. Historically, those two functions were kept separate, but useable Olympian territory was shrinking.
The device Atlas was tasked with deploying would cause the star to go supernova, a blow that would have crippled the Olympian war effort. He was given his instructions at the location where the technology was developed: the Anunnaki’s central weapons R&D facility. The area housed vital information, including the blueprints of cutting edge weapons technology and the whereabouts of multiple other weapons R&D and manufacturing sites. This site even contained the research on a bio-based weapon Atlas had heard rumors about for months. More intriguing, for a reason Atlas never understood, the site was poorly guarded. The Anunnaki didn’t put much weight into providing official security for any region smaller than a city. Instead, they seemed to rely on personal guards and their own physical prowess, as well as deception and traps, to defend against invaders. Whatever the reason, Atlas knew now was the time to reveal his true status.
After receiving his mission, he sent his fellow Olympian defectors ahead of him in an Olympian Remedium-class medical rescue vessel, assuring them he would catch up in an Anunnaki ship soon after. As his men departed, Atlas returned to the Anunnaki weapons base and contacted the three military officers who gave him the orders—with rankings and roles he couldn’t map to Olympia’s military—and asked them to meet with him as he had some follow-up questions about their plan. They agreed to meet in a small, completely empty room that was much taller than it was wide. Atlas wasn’t sure of its purpose, but that was a typical feeling he had around the creatures and their structures.
Atlas struggled to conceal his deep disgust for the creatures while working to deceive them. They were the strangest of all the Primordials, with a profound genetic variation within their species; they evolved beaks, wings, tails, multiple limbs, and more. Even their reproduction, respiration, and general metabolism varied across their kind. They looked like a random combination of components of various creatures across the galaxy. Their motivations and philosophy matched their aesthetic: erratic, dangerous, and impossible to comprehend. Neither their “brains” nor bloodlines were as pure as the Olympian pedigree. Atlas was eager to finally allow his actions to reflect his revulsion of the creatures.
When the Anunnaki arrived they immediately moved into their typical formation while meeting with Atlas: the officers remained behind a single body guard. The body guard was uncharacteristically large—larger than even Atlas—with a familiar, bi-pedal form, save a couple of exceptions. The creature had two perforated tentacles emanating from his chest that had the ability to conduct electrical current, and his skin was more akin to an animal’s shell than a membrane. During their meetings, the guard always kept a tentacle wrapped around Atlas to quickly subdue him via electricity if he became a threat.
Atlas was calmer than usual as the rubbery limb draped around his neck. He had always planned to leverage this odd type of security to his advantage by feigning injury in the past in response to minor shocks. Today I’ll show you my real threshold. He glanced at his three contacts: a giant arachnid with four wings, a bioluminescent and gelatinous blob, and a disquietingly thin, fractiled beast that looked more like an abstract painting than living entity.
I need to do something to goad a shock. Atlas took a step forward and pointed his finger at the arachnid, but was sure to keep his other hand away from the mace and hatchet he had strapped to either hip. “How the hell are we supposed to get into the Filum system without a cloaked ship?”
As anticipated, Atlas received an electric jolt and fell back toward the wall in simulation of injury, landing in a prostrate position perpendicular to his enemies. He heard a piercing hum radiating from the guard. I’ll turn your laughs to screams.
Atlas’ periphery caught the tentacle nonchalantly floating toward him, likely to raise him after his stunt. Quickly, he rolled toward the rubbery limb, his right hand clenching his hatchet, coming down in a swift motion to severe a sizeable chunk of the electrical appendage. Before the creature could complete one full wail, Atlas threw his ax end-over-end into what he guessed was analogous to its collar bone, causing the beast to fall back in agony. It turns out your shell wasn’t that strong after all.
Atlas reversed the momentum in his right hand and used his bond to space-time to whip a gravitational wave at the room. All his opponents fell backward, but, simultaneously, the arachnid shot one of its long, spindly legs forward. Atlas caught the limb, noticing the end unfolded to display a fang he had never noticed before. He rotated the appendage until he felt a mixture of bone and cartilage crack and deform under his strength. As the arachnid’s leg retreated, Atlas unhooked his spiked mace and lunged at the unfortunate creature, delivering a fatal blow to its face and body. The arachnid’s limp husk now blocked the entry way.
One down.
Atlas turned to the bodyguard, who had crawled away and pried the ax from his neck, and sent another gravitational wave his way, cracking portions of the being’s torso and buying him the split second needed to locate the other two officers in the room. The jellylike slug was scuttling away and the fractiled creature was unfolding into a wide, thin web that nearly enveloped the room. Atlas lunged forward and stomped on—and through—his gelatinous contact while swinging his mace wildly at the still-unfolding oddity that had, by this point, nearly reached the ceiling.
Procuring enough space in the organic netting, Atlas moved toward the guard, who lay nearly lifeless on the ground. He released his long-simmering disgust with the bizarrely formed Anunnaki in a single swing of his mace, removing any evidence the creature had ever possessed a head.
Atlas picked up his ax and furiously worked to hack and cut the last officer in the room. The fractiled monster seemed like it was trying to envelope Atlas, but every time it came at him he swung at it with his ax, hewing off disjointed pieces and reducing its size and reserves. Eventually, after a minute or two, the animated netting fell to the ground, ceasing its movement.
Atlas surveyed the room—proud he reduced the sundry creatures to a common mix of pulp and death—and departed. On the way to the hanger, he broke into a couple of research labs in the unguarded facility. He destroyed what and who he could, grabbed data files, and left to catch up with his men in a purloined Anunnaki Nubian starfighter. The Nubian ships were sleek—resembling a flattened tear drop with two poin
ts instead of one in the front—and deadly.
The Remedium his task force flew was lightly armored. Olympian medical vessels were designed to be small and quick, able to nimbly maneuver into dangerous areas, pick up injured soldiers, and provide them care while transporting them to the closest medical station. Atlas explained to his crew that they needed an Olympian-made craft with a low profile and high speed to complete their mission without being detected. Furthermore, he told them they would need to retreat as quickly as possible once they sabotaged the star. His true intention was to make sure his men stood no match to the Nubian fighter he would attack them with.
He caught up to his crew while they were still on the edge of Olympian territory, hailing them to make sure he targeted the right vessel. As soon as they responded he released a salvo of projectiles and missiles; engaging every piece of weaponry he had. As he opened fire he heard a confused and pathetic plea from one of the men, but the message was cut short as the egg-shaped ship cracked and bled its contents to the open galaxy. The gratuitous use of firepower wasn’t employed to ensure decimation of the medical vessel—that was simple—Atlas’ main concern was ensuring the weapon the traitorous Olympians were smuggling within their ship couldn’t be salvaged.
Throughout the Fracturing, he kept his true intentions and loyalty to Olympia secret—even from the task force he created. The men in his group were not just true deserters, but true defectors as well. It was the only way for his covert mission to be successful.
Following his deception and the destruction of his false comrades, Atlas contacted a hoplite that fought under his command decades prior: Hyas. Hyas was one of a few obsequious underlings that both deeply revered Atlas prior to his deception and had gained some prominence within Olympia’s navy. Atlas planned on exploiting Hyas’ veneration of him.
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