by Gene Stiles
After an eternity, he took one wobbly step after another, working his tremulous way toward the cushioned table where Rhea lay moaning, her eyes closed, the lines of the lids crusted over. The long tresses of her honey blonde hair lay tangled around her head and shoulders, matted into thick, frayed knots. Rhea lay on her side, curled like a newborn, shallow hisses of air escaping her nostrils. Cronus could almost see her body loosen where the mist seeped into her thin, white jumpsuit.
Satisfied she still lived, he used the last, feeble vestiges of his strength to crumple slowly to the floor next to her, closed his weary eyes and drifted back into the darkness.
Muted sounds of life and movement surrounded him when the gentle touch of fingers brought him back to consciousness. Rhea sat with his head cradled in her lap, tracing lines along his taunt cheek and clenched jaw. Cronus smiled, glad that she had insisted on joining him on his ship when the People had decided to go into deep sleep. He filled his lungs with a slow, deep, invigorating breath of cool, moist air. Most of the pain in his body had diminished into a light soreness and near forgotten memory.
“Welcome back, my love”, Rhea whispered. Her brilliant, blue eyes sparkled with a shimmering of tears.
Loathe to leave the softness of her lap, Cronus reached up to caress her skin with his fingertips. “Hello, my love. I am glad you are well. How long have we slept? It seems an eternity.”
“That is a very good question,” a voice responded nearby. Cronus forced himself up from Rhea’s lap, rising slowly to his feet, careful not to pass out again. To his surprise, his muscles responded with fluidity he did not expect to regain so rapidly.
Thorina rose up from the console she had been leaning over to turn and face Cronus. Her emerald green eyes were dark, foreboding as the tight line of her down-turned lips. Flaming red hair fanned out behind her as she strode over to where Cronus and Rhea stood. Thorina moved with a liquid grace, firm and confident, her beauty enhancing, not masking the incredible mind behind her eyes.
“Most of our systems have shut down,” she stated flatly. “The outside views show only darkness. I do not believe they are functioning. Minimal life support is operating but the air stinks and I fear it will be getting hot in here soon.”
Cronus nodded, noting for the first time the tinny tang in the air. “This should be no problem. Restart the main engines and the systems should reset.”
Thorina gave him a withering stare. “You do not think I have tried that already? Nothing responds as it should. I have a team on it now, but I already believe I know what they will find.”
“And that is?”
“We are almost out of power,” she said.
Cronus raised an eyebrow and grunted. “Thorina, that is not possible. Our ships are powered by the same source as the Proto-Suns. In the history of Atlan, not one of them has ever failed.”
“I did not say they failed,” she replied carefully. “I said the power is almost gone. Do you understand the implications?”
Cronus shook his head, but Rhea’s eyes went wide. She gripped his forearm and said, “That would explain something else as well.” Lines wrinkled her forehead and tightened the muscles of her cheeks. “When I awoke from deep sleep on Atlan, I was refreshed and alert. When we arrived here and revived the People who chose to sleep through the passage of months in space, they, also, seemed revitalized.”
“I need not say how we all felt this time. And the nightmares...” She shuddered. “I do believe we were asleep much longer that we anticipated.”
“A hundred years, two hundred or even three,” Cronus scoffed, “would not be nearly enough to deteriorate the our power sources.”
“I know,” Thorina replied gravely. “It would take thousands. Many thousands.”
Nearly four days later, most of the People had recovered from the deep sleep aftereffects. Each person had to heal on their own, the weakness embedded in the muscles of everyone made Lending impossible. Now the residual aches were replaced by bubbling excitement and impatience to place feet on the grass of a new world.
“We need to send a team outside.” Cronus sat at the head of the oval table. Rhea sat to his right and Thorina to his left, next to Crius. Ranged around him, Talus, Arametus and eight others of the Aam sat in their silver Enviro-Suits. “We are blind in here and we know not of the other ships. Communications seem to be down and the sensors detect only rock.”
“Yet someone activated the awakening systems,” Thorina added.
“Iasion and the others are the only ones with the Key,” Crius chipped in, his unruly, black curls bouncing with the bob of his head. “Our friends must be just outside waiting for us to join them!”
“Not necessarily,” Cronus responded. “We do not know who unsealed the ship. We do not know how long we have been at rest. We do not know what awaits us beyond the door.”
“There is much we do not know,” Rhea joined in. “Let us look, then, at what we do know.” Her long, graceful fingers ticked off each point as she continued.
“We know we must have been asleep much, much longer than the hundred years we had planned. This means something may have happened to Iasion and the others that prevented them from awakening us. We know our power is depleted to a point that should not have happened for thousands of years.”
“We also know that the power seepage has lowered to the point that the gravity units are only at one third their strength. This means we have been subject to almost twice the gravity we are used to. Yet we feel no affect. We adapted to it in our sleep. How long would such a thing take?” she asked.
“I do not know,” Thorina replied gravely“, but a very, very long time indeed”.
Cronus stared for a moment at each of the people around him, his brow furled and his emerald eyes darkened to deepest green. “It matters not,” he rumbled. “Do you forget that we are stuck here on Terra? This is our home now and we must go outside. To make things worse, the air in here is foul. It will not take long before it will be unbreathable. We cannot simply live and die in this ship.” His fists clenched on the table, corded muscle visible through the silver of his formfitting Enviro-Suit.
Rhea laid a gentle hand on his arm. Her bright blue eyes sparkled sadly, her full, pink lips curved in just the hint of a smile. “We know, my love. We shall have a wonderful home here.”
Cronus glanced through the glass doors separating the conference room from the bridge. On the other side, people moved with slow, quiet determination. Those with specific tasks carried them out with barely contained excitement. The multicolored lights of the consoles cast rainbow shades on the walls and ceilings, brightening the gloom of the dimmed cabin lights. Screens that should have shown the outside world were shades of black and gray yet all diagnostics showed them functioning normally. “We do not know if the air outside has changed enough to be breathable. We go out fully suited and armed. But we go.”
“Oh, Creator!” Rhea whispered. She gazed around Cronus at the narrow pathway amid the massive rocks above them. It had taken another full day to prepare a four-person team. Many of the ships doors had locked tight with age and refused to budge. Tools were dug from open rooms to get to the Enviro-Suits and armory. Now the team stood in shocked silence in the open air lock, Cronus and Rhea standing in the tiny cave that seemed like an anteroom framing the open door of the ship. The light of their lanterns illuminated each tiny crack in the walls and ceiling, filling them all with the very unpleasant feeling that they were being crushed at any given moment.
Cronus moved to the forefront of the group and aimed his torch down the dark passage. He gazed at the low ceiling that narrowed at the top, bit his lip in frustration and moved silently forward. The trail was just wide enough for one person to move through at a time and, at that, it was tight. The group had to move slightly stooped to keep from hitting the rock above. Here and there, large slabs of rock leaned against each other to form the passage. In other spots, boulders pressed all around them, held in place only by the sheer we
ight of the rocks above. The small group had to shove aside small piles of debris to make room for passage. They dared not use their weapons to melt the stone for better walking as the air was thick here and clogged with dust that danced like insects in the beams of the torches. Light began to filter in from the outside through cracks and holes, getting brighter as they moved forward. A light breeze pushed at the dust showing circulation in the tunnel. Soon, the dim but pervasive light seeping into the passage out shined the torches.
Suddenly, Cronus found himself face to face with a near solid wall of stone. Cracks formed webs on either side and above his head; small holes permitted the light to intensify around him. The trail had widened just enough for Rhea to move beside him, the others pressing forward to stare at their predicament.
“What shall we do now, my love?” Rhea near whispered, loath to make too much noise.
Cronus ran his gloved fingertips along the walls on either side of the giant rock then shown his torch up at the ceiling. “Have everyone move back down the tunnel,” he said. “I’m going to burn our way out.” He began to turn the dial on his torch then added as an afterthought, “Go with them, Rhea”.
She looked as if she might argue the point, but then dropped her shoulders in acquiescence and moved away. Once the setting was on full power, Cronus moved a few feet back and fired. The rock hissed in protest, glowing brilliant red that caused the dampers on the Enviro-Suit helmet to darken to near black. Within only a few seconds, a hole large enough for Cronus to step through was cut from the center of the stone. He had been careful to cut a shape like a pyramid to allow the rock to maintain its strength, still the passage groaned as the pressure realigned. He waited until he was sure it would hold then turned his Polaris-Belt to full power. Bouncing over the threshold to avoid the still cooling puddles of molten stone, Cronus bounded into the eye-searing light of a brand new world.
He stood in quiet awe waiting for the others to join him. Even when Rhea touched his arm, he found himself unable to turn his gaze from the sight before him. No one spoke. They only listened to the sounds of nameless creatures filtering into their helmets. None were immune to the tears that filled their eyes and traced lines upon their faces. All around them, piles of pitted boulders littered the landscape blocking the view in front. Above them the sky glistened bright blue, puffy clouds of white lazily drifting through the air.
Cronus shifted himself around and felt his chest clamp so tight that he could barely breathe. He heard Rhea gasp as she followed his lead. Behind them, jagged mountains rose to meet the drifting clouds. Dark and foreboding, the giants encircled them, capped in white with swirling mists hiding many of their peaks.
Cronus felt his heart clench. Now he understood the views on the monitors. Even though he knew where to look, there was no sign of his ship. It lay buried under ton after ton of gargantuan rocks.
Rhea broke the silence with a whisper barely heard. “How shall we ever break free of that? And where are the other ships?”
“I do not know, my love.” Cronus turned his back to the ship and began to climb the mounds in front of him. “Come. Maybe we can see our predicament better from up there.”
The four of them scrambled up the tumbled rocks, skirting the larger boulders. Even inside the air-conditioned confines of the Enviro-Suits, sweat glistened on their foreheads and trickled down the nape of their necks. The going was hard and muscles still unaccustomed to movement screamed in protest. Cronus topped the final hill by sheer will alone. The sight before him caused his weary legs to buckle, landing on his knees with force enough to send shockwaves up his spine.
“By the grace of the Creator!” Rhea whispered. Behind her, Talus and Arametus sank to their knees in reverence, murmuring forgotten prayers.
Towering before their eyes, nearly blocking all other views arose the dark green foliage of a massive tree. Its limbs spread across the horizon and climbed so high as to touch the heavens. The trunk was impossible to see. Thick mists encircled the base, flowing up like tentacles from a wide crack in the very earth. A massive rip in the earth separated them from the land beyond.
Cronus sucked in a deep breath. “The One Tree,” he whispered. “It lives.”
“The ship is fully operational, but,” Thorina warned, “I do not believe we have the power to lift with all the weight we have upon us.”
Cronus nodded. “I do understand that, but we should make the attempt. We need to clear as many of the boulders from above us as possible.”
All nodded their reluctant agreement. The word broadcast throughout the ship to strap in or to lie down on the beds and to hold on. Rhea and Crius took their places at the consoles while Cronus sat upon the command chair. Thorina waited at her station, her body tense and nervous.
“Fire,” Cronus commanded.
The engines did not burst into life, but slowly built from a tingling in the toes to a full-throated roar. Speech was impossible. Thunder reverberated within the tight confines of the bridge. Cronus gripped the arms of the chair with such force that he felt his fingers would break. His head felt as if a giant pressed palms on either side and squeezed. The massive ship shook like an awakening beast and howled with pain. Standing would have been out of the question. Staying within their seats was hard enough. The great beast shivered and shuddered, twisting this way and that, rearing up and bucking, fighting to be free.
But to no avail. Knowing the People and the ship could take no more punishment, Thorina brought the engines down and quieted the beast. The thunder continued unabated for long and painful minutes. Vibrations set teeth on edge. A horrendous screeching tore at the nerves.
An eternity later, it ended. Around the ship, the People held the few, terrified children. They shook their heads to clear the pain from their minds and held tightly to each other.
On the bridge, Cronus unlocked his aching hands from the chair and took a few long, deep breaths to clear his mind. He was about to rise when the wide monitor above him cracked into life. With a thump, he dropped back to his seat, staring up at the view of brilliant blue skies adrift with lazy, white clouds. “It worked,” he whispered.
In the awed silence of the command room, Thorina’s voice carried to every corner though she spoke in reverent quiet. “Not exactly. We have only cleared some of the rubble. We were unable to pull completely free.”
“This is enough,” Cronus replied. “Let us prepare teams with plasma cannons and rifles to go outside and clear the rest.
Over the next six days, Cronus and the Aam strove to clear the rubble. Work moved incredibly slowly. Moving the ship had cleared the top, but destroyed the trail from the airlock to the land beyond. The plasma cannon could not be used in the close quarters of the airlock. The backlash of heat would sear the flesh of every man, woman and child on the lower level of the ship. Instead, each man took turns cutting a tunnel through the solid stone. Side tunnels, cut at a downward angle had to be cut first to allow the melted, molten rock a place to go. As each low cut filled, time was given for it to cool enough for the workers to move beyond to the next stretch of tunnel.
It was with great relief that the first cracks of daylight shown through the tumbled rocks. Giddy with excitement, the men and women with Cronus stepped through the opening and cast their eyes on the glittering new world before them.
Cronus reached up to unlock the catches on his helmet. “Wait,” Rhea said, placing her hand upon his. “How are we to know if it is now fit to breathe?”
Cronus gently pushed her hand away. “It matters not, my love. As I said before, this is now our home.” Still it was with trepidation that he lifted off his helmet, holding his breath involuntarily. He opened his mouth and took a deep lung full of the night. It felt like water coming in and he coughed uncontrollably. Rhea reached out for him, but he held his hand out to stay her. Trying once again, Cronus let the air seep into him.
“It is alright,” he said. “The air is breathable, but thick. Take small, slow breaths.”
&n
bsp; Nodding, the rest of the party lifted the helmets from their silver suits and took their first cautious, slow breaths of pure, clean air. They smiled to each other as the sweet, heady taste circulated into their bodies. For the first time in most of their lives, they felt warm, musty air, filled with exciting, strange scents, brush against their faces in the light breeze.
Working throughout the day, teams burned away a space wide enough to set up the plasma cannon. The nighttime stars shone brightly overhead, filling every crevasse of the heavens. Crius mounted the seat of the great machine and thumbed the blasting switch. Light exploded upon the landscape, turning night into day. Rumbling thunder bounced from one mountain to another. A shaft of milky white radiance cut a swath along the ground. Rocks blew into the air by the concussion. Boulders in the path of that beam liquefied in a heartbeat to glowing red lava. The lava poured down its self-made streambed to fall over the edge of the abyss surrounding the One Tree.
In the space of a hundred heartbeats, the light was gone. All that remained was the sparks and afterimages burned into the retinas of those who watched and the angry, red river of lava that still spilled over into the chasm.
“People, Cronus! There are people!” Thorina ran to him, waving and gesturing wildly behind her. “They are gathered on the other side of the chasm! I think Iasion is with them!”
Cronus jumped on a Polaris disk and turned to head toward the cliff. “Wait,” Rhea shouted. “I’m going with you!” She slipped up beside him and they raced to the edge. Arriving at the steaming crevasse that separated them from the massive One Tree, they spotted the lone silver figure surrounded by a large group of hairy beasts. The distance made details hard to make out, but it seemed as if Iasion wore no helmet, his hair flowing around him, billowing in the light breeze. The first great joy since awakening swelled Cronus’ chest and spread across his face in a broad smile.