Aeson pauses. “But—getting back to the alien threat hanging over us. As I said, the general public does not know anything about it yet, as it pertains to us, here on Atlantis. All they know about is the sudden renewed threat to Earth, and the nature of the asteroid that’s currently on a collision course with it. The Atlantean public has been informed that our ancient extraterrestrial adversaries recently deployed an asteroid in order to finish what was started ten thousand years ago. In fact, they believe that’s the main reason why the Fleet was sent to Earth, on a humanitarian mission to rescue all of you.”
I look at him, barely breathing, a frown tensing up my forehead. “So,” I say. “The Fleet went to get us. . . . And all this time your government knew very well that we would be arriving into a situation no different, no less dangerous than our doomed home! But why? Why did you bring us here? Why bother, if we’re all just going to die anyway? Explain to me why this was supposed to be a good idea?”
I stop because my voice cracks and I am trembling. . . .
Aeson reaches out across the table and takes my hand in his, pressing it with his large warm one. I feel a surge of comfort, but only for a moment. The growing terror of this newly revealed reality is rising to overwhelm me.
“Gwen,” he says gently, continuing to hold and squeeze my fingers. “We brought you here—and I know this is going to sound strange and unbelievable—but we brought you here for more than one reason. Yes, we felt obligated to rescue you, even if only to postpone the inevitable. But we also needed you—all ten million of you—to rescue us.”
Chapter 25
“Oh my God, I don’t understand what you’re saying, please explain!” I find that I’m speaking in a breathless panic, as I look into Aeson’s serious eyes.
Aeson exhales and starts speaking, telling me things that barely register through the wild ringing in my ears. “We need all of you, Gwen, for so many reasons. The official reason is that the Fleet needs more Cadets, more strong young soldiers to fight on behalf of Atlantis. That was the reason used to convince the majority of the Imperial Executive Council—and the governments of many other Atlantean nations—to agree to such great expenditures and allocation of resources necessary to bring ten million Earth refugees here.
“However, that’s only a small fraction of what is really at stake. We as a society are stagnant, and none of the other nations on this planet are any better off than Imperial Atlantida. The reality is, we don’t need soldiers—we need scientists, artists, thinkers, creative people with vivid imaginations and strong new ideas to imbue us with fresh life and a fresh perspective. People such as yourself!”
I free my hand from his hold, and stand up, pushing my chair behind me so that it scrapes the floor. . . . I am trembling, needing air. “Okay—so—so, we’re just expendable, fresh blood for you? Some kind of human cattle to fill your military ranks, to be used—”
He gets up also, moving toward me immediately, and his gaze is burning with intensity. “No, Gwen! Not ‘used’—never! It is such an ugly, inaccurate word—”
“Then what? How is it not using?” My voice is rising as I glare at him, and he reaches out to me, grasping my arms near the shoulders.
“Gwen! Let me explain, please!” His voice goes low and gentle, and he is pleading, which immediately makes my heart melt, and softens me. “As I said, we need you to rescue us . . . as a sentient species. We need you to make us better, Gwen. To give us hope, to teach us to think in new ways, so that together we can defeat this ancient alien adversary! Because this time, with thousands of years of experience and evolution behind all of us—both Earth and Atlantis—we are more advanced, stronger, and better capable of resisting and fighting back. And with your integration into our society, I believe that at last we stand a chance!”
He takes me in a warm great embrace, and now, in pure reflex, I cling to him. “I’m sorry . . . I’m so scared, Aeson! So scared! For everyone! For my family, here and on Earth, for my friends, for you!” I speak brokenly, leaning against his chest, my arms wrapped around him.
“I know. . . . And, you have every right to be angry,” he replies, his hand caressing the back of my head, running through the wavy locks of my hair, still slightly damp after the shower. His face, inches above me, leans in, and I feel his hot breath against my forehead, my cheeks. “This information, all of this grim reality is so disturbing, so difficult to fathom, that sometimes even I think we are living in a strange slow nightmare, and all we need to do is wake up and none of it would be real—not the extraterrestrial threat, not the political machinations. . . .”
“So—no one else on Atlantis knows this except your government?” I whisper.
He nods. “Not just the government of Imperial Atlantida but all other governments of major nations on this planet—since they all pitched in their resources into the rescue mission, and are receiving and taking in Earth refugees across the globe. . . .
“I’ve carried this burden with me, Gwen, for the last five years. Before setting out on the Earth mission, I knew how bittersweet our rescue of Earth would be. But the one thing that kept me going was the knowledge that together, both of our populations united, we had the ability to somehow survive. If we simply left all of you back on Earth on your own, to perish in the asteroid apocalypse, it would’ve only postponed our own destruction. So, yes, our mission was selfish in that sense, we desperately needed you.”
“It still does not excuse the fact that no one on Earth was told the real truth!” I exclaim, looking up into his eyes. “How could you deceive us so, all of you?”
Aeson winces at the accusation in my eyes. “Gwen . . .” he says softly. “We actually told your Earth governments, the United Nations, all of this information, the moment we made ourselves known to you. They consulted via the Atlantis Central Agency with my Father and the IEC, and made the difficult decision not to tell the general population of Earth the reality of the rescue. And we honored their decision.”
“Oh . . .” I whisper.
“It is devastating,” he says. “And yet, leaving hope intact, I believe, was the right thing to do. Because sometimes hope is the only thing that can make a difference.”
“What about Earth Union?” I recall suddenly. “Did they know about this alien threat? How much did they know?”
“Their highest officers were probably informed to some degree, since EU is an offshoot of your government,” Aeson says thoughtfully. “And this is why it’s important we continue to discover the full extent of their agenda, and continue questioning the prisoners that we currently have in custody.”
“Such as Brie Walton?”
Aeson absently smoothes back a few stray locks of hair on my brow. “Yes. And others like her, who might know something of further value to us.”
I crinkle my forehead. “Hmmm . . . what else could they possibly know now that’s of any value? And what does it matter, now that you’ve brought many of us here to Atlantis? What’s left on Earth that could make a difference? I mean—I am still confused as to how or why—”
Aeson sighs, his breath gently tickling my skin. “It is possible your Earth leaders already knew about the aliens, even before we shared our so-called grim realities with them—even though Earth governments seemed to be in complete ignorance of any alien contact when we made our initial inquiries.
“You see, the IEC council members suspect there’s a complicated game going on, and that Earth governments have not been completely honest with us upon our arrival. Some IEC members are convinced that Earth authorities had made earlier contact with the aliens, angered them in a similar way as did our ancient original Atlantis ancestors—which resulted in the current asteroid being deployed—and unwittingly gave them enough incidental clues and information via access to Earth’s historical records that somehow allowed the aliens to deduce our present location, leading them here.
“Now we know for a fact—thanks to the EU operatives such as Logan Sangre opening up and talking—that th
ere was indeed corruption at the highest levels, going all the way up to the United States President, and special secret deals were made with My Father, and promises exchanged—promises he never intended to keep. This suggests that there could have been attempts at similar deals made with the aliens. But—we don’t know. And in order to find out, we must continue digging into the EU. It’s all in the details that could make a difference for us, here and now, a difference in our chances of survival.”
“Wow . . .” I breathe. “So this is how it is. So complex and so—messy. Okay, tell me this—how is it that these all-powerful, sophisticated extraterrestrials allowed the much more primitive ancient Atlanteans to escape on their ark-ships? It’s hard to believe the aliens didn’t know that some Atlanteans were escaping the asteroid impact, and even harder to imagine they weren’t easily followed!”
“Agreed, it’s definitely unclear how and why our ancestors got away,” Aeson says thoughtfully. “Maybe the aliens considered the fleeing Atlantean ark-ships insignificant. Or maybe they allowed them to escape on purpose so that one day they could be followed and exterminated at leisure. . . . Our historical records on that are inconclusive and questionable. The bulk of our success in hiding our trail was attributed to a sequence of multiple quantum Jumps. The ancient Atlantean Fleet Jumped several times, to near-random locations in the universe, over an extended period of time—a few years in space—in order to disguise their final destination here in the Helios solar system. Incidentally, these early quantum Jumps took quite a toll on the passengers. . . . This was the first time we were using the quantum technology for such long-range travel, and with such frequency. So there was much cellular damage and significant physical injuries. Many of our original colonists were very sick by the time they finally arrived.”
“That’s why you made such a big deal of the whole Jump procedure when we were coming here,” I say. And then I blush suddenly, remembering that insane day several months ago, and everything that happened during the Jump. Good thing Aeson does not see my face as I hide against his chest once again. . . .
“Yes, back then our ark-ship technology was less advanced,” he continues, showing no sign of thinking along the same track—maybe he’s too preoccupied with the gravity of the situation to think about our weird and awkward physical contact immediately after the Jump. “We suspected there might be some risk involved, and even had a limited number of primitive stasis chambers, but hardly enough to make a difference. So the harm was even more serious, affecting the entire population. The ones most affected were the adults and the very young, while the teenagers seemed to handle it best. But—you will learn more about this later, when you have the chance to read the records.”
“Seems like all kinds of important information is lurking in these records, just waiting to be discovered and analyzed,” I say. “I really want to take a look at them . . . but . . . but after I’m in a better state of mind. Because right now, I admit, I am a mess.” I look up at him. “Aeson, knowing all that you do, I wonder how you can keep going. . . .”
“I wanted to lie down and die many times,” he says in a low voice, with a bitter smile. “But not any longer.”
“How so?”
He releases me from the embrace, holding me at arm’s length, and then motions to the table with the dea meal service, our plates full and untouched.
“How about we try this again? Sit down, Gwen. You need to eat.”
I laugh, wanting to cry instead. “Seriously? I feel like nothing matters any more, and eating is the last thing I should be doing, now that I know that we’re all just going to die very soon—Earth, Atlantis, my family, my friends, random strangers, two planets full of living beings. . . . What does anything matter, training for the Games of the Atlantis Grail, winning, losing, getting killed, getting jobs, getting married, whatever, it’s all the same. . . .”
“No,” he says sharply, and his power voice cuts through my depression like a beam of light.
And then he sits down in his chair, and points at my seat. “Please,” he says.
I sit down.
“We’re going to eat, you and I. Simply eat and think of nothing else but the pleasant food on our plates,” he says, looking into my eyes with an intense hypnotic stare and a soft mesmerizing voice of a serpent . . . only this time the serpent is made of honey and it slithers sensually along the surface of my skin. . . . And with it comes a flooding sense of comfort, relaxation, sweet serenity. . . .
“Ah, Aeson,” I say with a smile, because that’s what he does to me, even now, in the midst of despair. “I hate to tell you this, but your compelling voice doesn’t work on me. . . . Never has. So you might as well not bother—although I do love the sound of it.”
And seeing Aeson’s somewhat startled expression, I shake my head, continuing to smile at him, then pick up my eating utensil and dig into my plate.
He’s right, even if the world is falling apart around us, might as well take this moment and make the most of it.
Suddenly I feel very normal and very hungry.
We finish the dea meal without much talk, intentionally not saying anything that might be disturbing, and focusing on putting the food in our mouths. Then, after the servants return, we go into a different room, this one a softly lit gallery with golden orb lamps in sconces illuminating the mahogany-red walls at even intervals, and a deep comfortable sofa.
Aeson sits down first, then pulls me down to him, so that I fall into the cushions, then tumble against him, and rest against his side. He reaches around with one arm to circle my back, then draws me closer in a warm engulfing embrace, so that I end up partially lying against his chest, my hair mingling with his, electric energy rising along my skin at his proximity.
It feels so good, so damn good, that I forget despair.
“Is it true,” he says suddenly, into the top of my head, “that you were not compelled by me? How do you know when I was trying to compel you? You mean, just now during the meal?”
I snort softly. “Yeah, now, and also back on the ark-ship, months ago, on the night before the first Quantum Stream Race. You were trying to compel me to go slow and not to try to win the race.”
“What?” He makes an incredulous laugh noise. “You knew about that?”
“Oh yeah.” I reach out and yank a lock of his golden hair, probably a bit harder than I should. “You were such a jerk to try to do that to me, you know. I just played along, pretended I was compelled.”
“Gwen, I can’t believe it! You’re more devious than I thought!” But he is laughing, and he has turned my face up to him, and he is leaning in. . . .
Next thing I know, his mouth is all over mine, and I have neither strength nor will to protest, because I am weak with desire, molten, sweet, impossible. . . .
“Jerk . . .” I manage to utter as our lips come apart momentarily for a gulp of air. But he silences me again, pressing me into the cushion, as I sink next to him. And then our bodies shift, and I am under him, and he is devouring my mouth, and his tongue is between my teeth, pushing against my own tongue with sweet agony, as my head leans backward, sinking, sinking. . . .
“Sweet amrevu!” He gasps at last, letting me go, and moves back a bit, so that I remain collapsed against the cushions, chest rising and falling, my face flushed, my hair a tousled mess. I look up at him as he remains partially leaning over me, breathing fast and hard, and his pupils are wide and dark as night, and his golden hair falls forward, brushing against my skin.
I watch his face, the lovely deep lapis lazuli color of his irises, and the lean jaw, each detail so familiar to me now. He continues to breathe harshly, calming down very gradually, and never taking his eyes off me.
“I should’ve known . . . even back then, that night before the Race . . .” he says, catching his breath at last. “I suspected that I could not compel you, for a very good reason. But I didn’t want to face it, that reason—not at that time, not just yet.”
“What reason?” I say, wat
ching him with a smile, my heart aching with warmth for him.
Aeson cranes his head slightly, as his fingers come to play with my loose curls as they lie against my neck. “It’s simple. You cannot compel the one you love.”
There is a pause as we stare at each other.
“Oh . . .” I exhale. “Wow!”
Aeson laughs. “Yes. Even back then, I loved you, but fought the awareness because it meant so many forbidden things for me.”
“Oh, Aeson!” I say, abruptly coming to another realization, with a pang of sorrow. “If you cannot compel the one you love, and your Father frequently compels you and your family and everyone else—does that mean that he—”
At my words, Aeson blinks, and momentarily looks away. “My Father, yes . . .” he says in a controlled voice. “I choose to think that as the Imperator, he merely has the greater power to wield over everyone, so that his compelling ability exceeds any natural tendency in that regard. At least I keep telling myself that is the case. It’s a common notion that the Imperator is above love, above affection and normal human bonds, and he is bound by duty alone—duty to Atlantida.”
“But—that’s truly horrible,” I say, sitting up, and forgetting the sweet sensuality for a moment because I see the pain in his eyes. “When you become Imperator one day—if we survive all this—I don’t think you’ll be like that! In fact, I know you won’t!”
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