Maiden of Atlantis

by Maidenofatlantis(Lit)

  "I ‘heard’ what Zeus said that first day. I know that making me care about you is just part of the plan—I don’t know why, but I don’t have to."

  He studied her angrily for several moments. "You did not love Mark," he said tightly.

  She flushed, but refused to answer.

  His eyes narrowed. "You can not claim a rebound when you were not in love with him to begin with."

  "You don’t know me. You have no idea how I felt about Mark! Or what I’d just been through before you captured me."

  "I know all I need to know about you, Claire … far more than you realize. I told you I had been sent to watch you, to learn your habits … everything about you. I saw you with this Mark, many times. I know you were not happy with him, that you did not trust him, that you did not love him. It was no accident that you went by the apartment, whether you acknowledge it even to yourself. You suspected he had been cheating on you. You expected to catch him with someone else. You went to confirm your suspicions.

  "I know also that when I touch you, you respond to me," he growled, moving closer once more and touching a finger to her temple. "He is not there. Only me—only what you feel for me. Lie to yourself if you wish. You can not lie to me."

  Chapter Seven

  Eros’ final comment before he strode from the room sent Claire into a panic, bringing home as nothing else her danger in this place. She knew they were telepathic, she thought she had accepted it as truth and not imagination, but she hadn’t accepted that her mind was open for reading. She was in serious trouble if she couldn’t learn to guard her thoughts, or keep her distance.

  Zeus had said that they had built this refuge to protect them from detection, but that it had the disadvantage of also making it difficult for them to communicate with each other telepathically. Obviously, that was not true of either Zeus or Eros. Could she even trust that it was true of the others, she wondered? If she kept her distance from Zeus and Eros, would she be safe? Or had it been a sly sort of trap?

  She began to pace Eros’ room nervously. She thought hard about every exchange that she’d had since she had arrived, and realized that she couldn’t really be absolutely certain about any single one of them. Zeus had not seemed to know what she was thinking until she was sitting at the table from him, though—close by. Maybe he had told her the truth--but could she trust it?

  She decided she couldn’t.

  She thought it was true, but she couldn’t trust her life to it.

  The question was, was there anything she could actually do about it? They might allow her to keep her distance, at least some of the time, and they might not. Would it be more dangerous to stay with Eros? Or more dangerous not to?

  If she stayed, it seemed unlikely she could keep enough distance between them to guard her thoughts. He’d left her in no doubt of that at all.

  If she left, though, might Zeus take it as an opening to claim her for himself?

  She was very much afraid he might, and that seemed infinitely worse. Not only did she most definitely not want to be his sex partner, but he was the leader of the group of rebels. She was bound to think really dangerous thoughts--thoughts that could leave him in no doubt at all that she was very much against the rebels and had no desire to join them.

  Staying with Eros was still dangerous. He was one of them. He’d told her his job was to watch her a report back. Would she be any better off, though, with anyone else?

  She didn’t delude herself into thinking they would simply leave her alone. They’d brought her here for a reason. They hadn’t told her exactly what that reason was, yet, but it certainly wasn’t just because they were recruiting. From what she could see, she was the only person here who wasn’t actually one of them—the only outworlder.

  She could be wrong about that, of course. She had only been here a few days. The people she’d seen might just be the tip of the iceberg. They could number in the thousands and probably did, but she was fairly certain from the things that Zeus had said that she was the only outworlder.

  There seemed little point in speculating what her purpose was. They would tell her when they were ready. They had already indicated that it had to do with her ability to heal in any case, and an army would need healers, or medical staff.

  It made her uneasy. She wasn’t exactly a miracle worker. She could heal small wounds. She had even managed to stop life threatening bleeding in someone—once, but she couldn’t imagine her poor abilities being terribly useful in a battle situation. By the time she’d healed one or two minor wounds, she would be too exhausted to be any help to anyone else.

  Not that she dared tell them that. The very least that could happen if they decided she was of no use to them after all was that they would screw with her mind—she didn’t care what Eros had claimed. She didn’t have any trouble believing they could ‘remove’ the memories, but she didn’t believe for a moment that her mind would be of much use to her afterwards. She’d rather they killed her than left her a slobbering, useless pile of human flesh.

  She couldn’t do anything, she finally decided, except keep her distance from them as much as possible, and try to keep her mind occupied with innocuous thoughts when they were around her—better to be thought a superficial airhead than a danger.

  Sighing, only marginally calmer, she ceased pacing and looked around the room once more. It wasn’t a great deal more comfortable than her cell, she saw, and not a lot bigger. Beyond a desk and chair against one wall, a trunk at the foot of the bed, and the bed—which made her belly clench—there was nothing to look at. The bed, like the bunk in her cell, was wide enough for one.

  Somebody was going to be sleeping on the floor.

  She was tempted to return to the cell and collect the pad, blanket and pillow. The problem with that was that she might just as well tell everyone she passed that she wasn’t sleeping with Eros—and she rather thought that had been the idea of bringing her to his room, to convince everyone that they were ‘getting to know’ each other.

  After several hours, boredom began to supplant her fears.

  She began to be almost sorry that Eros had left—not that she wanted the sort of entertainment he’d had in mind, but it would be nice to at least have someone to talk to.

  She was going to go off the deep end if she had to sit here for days on end, just staring at the walls, while fear slowly ate her brain up—or sheer boredom drove her to do something stupid.

  There was one door besides the one that led into the corridor. She assumed it was a closet. Knowing she had no business snooping, she found curiosity, and boredom, soon overcame courtesy and common sense and she went over to it and tried the latch. When she opened the door, she discovered it was a bathroom.

  Her brows rose. He must be important to have his own private bath. She’d assumed the one she had used before was communal—it probably was, but undoubtedly only for the common soldiers and Eros wasn’t one of them.

  He had challenged Zeus for her. She hadn’t realized it at the time, because she was still under the influence of whatever mind fuck Zeus had put on her, but it occurred to her that Zeus had backed down from the challenge rather meekly. Why, she wondered?

  He hadn’t seemed to fear Eros. Now that she thought back on it, he’d seemed more amused than anything else.

  He’d been expecting Eros. The entire thing had been for Eros’ benefit and Eros had reacted as Zeus had wanted him to. That had to be it. That had to be the reason why he’d bowed out without exerting his authority as leader.

  She knew that had to be it. The question was, what was the test for? Just to see if Eros would challenge him? Or was it a test to see if she could be used against Eros?

  And, if that was the case, why would they be testing him at all?

  Because they didn’t trust him?

  * * * *

  The tap on the door startled her. Claire jumped to her feet guiltily and whirled to look at the door, wondering for several panicked moments if it was Eros. As quietly as she c
ould, she closed the lid of his trunk and locked it again.

  She’d been working on picking the lock for the best part of an hour. It was frustrating to be interrupted almost the moment she got it open, but she realized almost at once that it probably wasn’t Eros. He would almost certainly have just barged right in—it was his room, after all.

  Finally, she moved to the door, summoned by a second, more demanding rap. It was Diana and her polite smile froze on her lips.

  Diana looked her over speculatively. "I did not interrupt anything?"

  Claire’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe for a moment that Diana thought she had. "Eros isn’t here," she said tightly.

  Diana dismissed the comment. "I was sent to fetch you. Zeus wishes to speak with you. You are invited to sit at his table."

  It wasn’t really an invitation, however, and Claire didn’t make the mistake of thinking it was. Without another word, she stepped into the corridor and followed Diana.

  Diana said nothing as they traversed the corridors, and Claire concentrated on memorizing the route.

  Zeus welcomed her as if nothing at all had passed between them. Claire was relieved. She took the vacant see across from him that he indicated, although she would have preferred sitting a good deal further away … in Eros’ room … or her own room back at her apartment … correction, Mark’s apartment.

  "Are you settled comfortably?" he asked politely.

  Claire’s face lit up like a neon sign. "Yes, thank you."

  "Good! Excellent! It has occurred to me that we have you at a disadvantage and that it will be difficult for you to become comfortable around us when you are aware of our telepathic abilities while possessing none yourself."

  Claire merely stared at him, trying not to think beyond the comment.

  He smiled faintly. "You are growing accustomed to blocking your thoughts from us, in any case—no great challenge here."

  It was insulting, but she thought it was unintentional—brought on by the superiority complex they all seemed to have.

  He frowned.

  She smiled.

  After a moment, he seemed to dismiss it and gestured to someone behind her.

  Claire turned and saw that Diana, who’d abandoned her at the door to the dining hall, was crossing the room now with something in her hands. It was a curious looking thing, shaped rather like a cap … or maybe a wide head band. As Diana reached her, she looked at Zeus. At his nod, she handed the strange looking head piece to Claire.

  Taking it, Claire looked it over and saw that it was made up of a mesh of metal and wire—which oddly enough created a design that was pleasing. Oddly, because she was fairly certain the design was more accidental than purposeful. It was clearly a device of some kind, not something for ornamentation.

  Zeus nodded. "You are correct. This is of our own design, but very similar to the bands developed long ago by Atlantean scientists. Specifically, it is designed to filter out intrusive brain waves. Atlanteans are all telepathic, and capable of being selective in the thoughts they project from those that are private. Nevertheless, it is more comfortable to wear the bands about than to have to guard one’s thoughts whenever we are out and about the business of living.

  "When the council ruled that outworlders were to be allowed to join our little community, the headbands were adjusted for their comfort."

  Claire wasn’t certain whether to believe it or not. She was fairly certain she didn’t even want to put the thing on. What if it was just something to help them have even more control over her mind?

  She noticed almost immediately that several of the other people at the table had turned to look at her, some angrily, others with amusement. Diana snatched the band from her hands and placed it on her head.

  Claire glanced up at her with a mixture of fear and anger, but she realized almost immediately that the band, far from causing her any discomfort, made her feel instantly better. The strange buzzing that had been ringing incessantly in her head since she had arrived disappeared abruptly. Like a low grade headache, she’d almost become used to the noise. To have it cease abruptly, however, was almost stunning—like any abrupt silence.

  She looked at Zeus in surprise.

  "Feeling better?"

  "My headache’s gone."

  He looked a little surprised, but then smiled faintly. "As you see—you can no longer hear the voices inside your mind."

  Claire shook her head. "I wasn’t hearing voices, just a buzzing noise, but it’s gone now."

  "The noise of nearly three thousand distant voices," he said, nodding sagely.

  Curious now, Claire lifted the band away from her head. Instantly, the buzzing returned. When she concentrated really hard, she thought she actually did understand a word here and there. Imagination? Or was she really ‘hearing’ the conversations of the rebels?

  After a moment, she settled the band on her head once more. It seemed to help. She still wasn’t convinced that that was the purpose of the device. She couldn’t imagine that there would be any way to discover whether she’d been told the truth about it or not, though.

  Regardless, it increased her comfort level and she was able to eat the meal brought to her with more appetite than she’d had before.

  Nevertheless, the gift made her very uneasy. She wished she had been naïve enough to simply accept it at face value, to take their word for it that it was just a thoughtful gesture toward a guest.

  She knew better. She was no guest, but a captive, and she didn’t believe for one moment that she had convinced them that she could be trusted as one of them. If it really was true that the band prevented them from probing her mind, then it served another purpose—one she was fairly certain must be something she would find unpleasant.

  Chapter Eight

  Claire had arrived in the dining hall late and the crowd had already begun to thin even before she joined the people at Zeus’ table. By the time she finished, she discovered that the room was virtually empty. Even the half dozen people who had been seated at Zeus’ table had thinned to only three besides herself—Zeus, Diana and the man she’d been told was Mercury—one of her other captors.

  It seemed significant. She tried to convince herself that it wasn’t, but she couldn’t get around the fact that—except for Eros, she was left with only those who had been directly responsible for her presence in the compound—very likely the only ones in the compound who knew precisely why and how she’d come to be there.

  "We will move soon," Zeus said abruptly, breaking into her thoughts. "With the time almost upon us, I find I can not allow more time for you to adjust to the situation. When you are done, you will go with Mercury. He will explain what is expected of you.

  Claire looked at Mercury uneasily, but realized that she was far more comfortable with the idea of going with him than either Zeus or Diana. She hadn’t seen a sign of Eros since he’d left the room they were supposed to share. If Zeus was to take it into his head to finish what he’d started before, she feared she would be left to his mercy.

  Diana—well, she hated Diana. She might be safe from seduction if she was with Diana—and then again, maybe not. The woman was beautiful, but she was also a bit more manly than Claire was comfortable with. It didn’t necessarily follow that Diana was a lesbian, and even if she was, there’d been no indication that Diana was sexually attracted to her—but she hadn’t realized Zeus was either.

  All things considered, she supposed Mercury was her preference—not that she’d been asked.

  Nodding, she rose and looked around. Servants were cleaning the dining hall and she decided she wasn’t expected to clean up after herself. Mercury stood as she did, and moved toward her, grasping her arm.

  Alarm bells went off immediately, but she resisted the urge to snatch her arm free, following him docilely as he led her from the dining hall.

  He led her to a room she hadn’t seen before. It was lined with narrow beds, each draped all around with thin sheets of linen—for privacy, she supp
osed. "This is the infirmary."

  Claire nodded, immediately feeling her gut clench. "You expect so many to be injured?"

  He was silent for some moments before he spoke, apparently trying to decide how much to tell her. "This will be a war unlike any we have fought since the Guardian grew to manhood. Many will die. Many more will be injured beyond their ability to heal themselves."

  A jolt went through her. "You have the ability to heal yourselves?" she asked sharply.

  "To an extent. Under ordinary circumstances, we would have no need of one such as you. But we have no one among us with knowledge of the science of medicine, to aid those wounded too sorely to heal themselves."

  This was very, very bad! She’d been fearful before that she might encounter wounds that were beyond her abilities—but now he was telling her they could heal minor wounds themselves! Terror filled her. It was as she’d feared all along. She was useless to them. Once they discovered it—at the worst possible moment, she suspected—they would slay her.

  "But … mostly you will be able to heal yourselves?" she managed to say through a mouth as dry as cotton.

  He nodded. "When you first saw us, we appeared as I am now—then later, you saw that we had shifted into merfolk."

  "I thought I’d dreamed it," she stammered.

  He shook his head. "Rapid molecular manipulation—We use this to change form when needed, to time walk, to heal ourselves. A battle situation will be different, however. Like any other race, we are not all the same. We do not have the same strengths or weaknesses or abilities. Some are stronger—faster—more clever. We are strong in numbers now, but not so strong that we can afford too many losses in the heat of battle. We must have someone to aid us and return the soldiers quickly to the battle lines."

  If anything at all that she’d learned, or been told, since her arrival made sense, she supposed his explanation did. But she had a feeling that he was lying to her. She didn’t know why—she feared it was only her mind trying to reassure her—but there was just something about his manner that made the suspicion crystalize as a certainty.