Viekko wasn’t sure whether the gesture was a salute or something else, but he raised his hand to imitate it.
Althea stood close to Viekko, her voice a whisper. “What is happening? I can’t understand a thing.”
“Not sure, to be honest,” Viekko whispered back. “Just goin’ with it.”
“It is customary,” Celia startled him with her unexpected return, “to kneel before the Rainha in a display of devotion. In return, she would give you a blessing of strength.”
Viekko looked at the emissary and then back at the Rainha, who remained standing straight with her arm raised and an expectant look on her face.
Isra was the first to lower herself to one knee, followed by Althea, Cronus and, finally, Viekko.
The Rainha watched, with a satisfied smile on her face, as all four knelt in front of her. She started on the far right side with Althea. She lowered her hand until it just touched her red hair and said, “Honra e forca.” Then she moved to Isra, Viekko and, lastly, to Cronus. She touched each on the head and recited the same words.
“You are all welcome to the city of Cytherea,” she said, switching to English.
Isra got to her feet. “Thank you, Rainha. On behalf of the people of Earth and the United Ministry of Terrestrial Citizens, I wish to…”
Isra trailed off as the Rainha turned and started walking away deeper into the garden. She turned to the emissary, speaking in Cytherean. “Did I say something wrong?”
Celia’s face scrunched into an apologetic frown and replied in English. “Rainha Isabel despises pageantry and formalities. She sees it a way of… how you say... ‘Dressing the knife.’”
“‘Dressing the knife?’” Isra repeated.
“Bein’ shot in the back by a purty gun,” Viekko mumbled, watching the Rainha saunter away.
The woman stopped her slow stroll, looked over her shoulder and waved the group forward with her hand. “Come with me. I must show you Provacao.”
The Rainha continued to stroll down the gravel path. The four members of the Human Reconnection Project exchanged quick glances. There was something…off about Isabel. Viekko felt it and, judging from the looks of the team, so did everyone else. They all hesitated until Isra moved to follow the Rainha. The others followed her lead, and the emissary brought up the rear.
Isra spoke over her shoulder to Celia. “What is Provacao?”
Celia spoke softly as if even she wasn’t sure if she should talk about it. “It is the method by which children become adults and citizens of Cytherea.”
“Why would she want us to see that?” Viekko was still struggling to translate his thoughts into Cytherean.
Celia shrugged. “The Rainha is wise. She wants you to see because you need to see.”
“I see,” Viekko muttered.
They all followed the Rainha through the lush gardens, through a second archway, and around to the rear of the castle. Here, the deep greens and bright colors gave way to cobbles, white stone pillars and carved water features. The centerpiece was a fountain that extended a good ten meters in the air and shot water an additional ten. The shower cascaded into a series of pools ending at a base wide enough to swim laps in. The Rainha led them around the fountain to a vehicle that looked like a gilded streetcar sitting on iron tracks that led away from the castle, through the city and up the mountain.
Two attendants in simple, brown robes opened a set of sliding doors for Isabel, and the others, including the emissary, followed her inside. They all took a seat on benches covered in cushions roughly the same dark red color as the Rainha’s dress. In fact, the whole car seemed designed to coordinate with the Rainha. She sat on a throne made of dark wood inlaid with golden designs and watched as her guests sat down and another attendant in a brown robe brought a tray of ceramic mugs.
“Please have a drink,” she said, taking a gilded cup from a tray held by another attendant. “It is hydromel, a drink of Cytherea. Made of honey from fruit trees. Very rare.”
One of the attendants held a tray in front of Viekko. He leaned forward and sniffed. He picked up heady, floral qualities and, Viekko smiled, a sizable burn of alcohol. He helped himself to one because he figured taking two was presumptive.
“Tell me of our ancient home,” said the Rainha leaning back and returning to a more comfortable language. “We only know of Earth through the stories and songs of our ancestors.”
Isra took a mug. “I am afraid that the world in those stories and songs no longer exists. Civilization faltered a thousand years ago. It is just now beginning to rise again.”
“Our stories tell of our people’s struggle against a machine,” continued the Rainha sipping her drink. “A terrible entity with no heart and no soul that wanted to drive our people from the land. They tell of a heroic war that allowed the Cythereans to escape to this world.”
“That is all very likely,” said Isra. “There was a period when warfare dominated almost every part of the globe. Those that didn’t die from disease or starvation died in a ditch for a piece of land made worthless by the intense fighting.”
Isabel leaned forward. “There will always be war. It is the nature of our species.” She paused and let a slight smile creep across her face. Then she looked at Viekko. “This man here. He knows of what I speak.”
Viekko did, or at least a part of him did. It was the same part that sought out the hedonistic pleasures that now made the world dull and muted. It was the part he tried hard to suppress.
The Rainha leaned back. “Tell me. Why have you come to Cytherea?”
Isra sat up straight. “The Human Reconnection Project has a single mission,” Isra recited. “We are here to explore and make contact with lost civilizations…”
Isabel let out an exasperated sigh and took a long drink from her gilded cup. Celia got up from one of the benches and hurried to stand in front of the group. “Again, you must understand. Our wise Rainha despises all forms of dishonest pageantry and—”
“Celia!” Isabel’s voice cut her emissary’s words off with the precision of a blade. She turned back to Isra with a seductive smile. “I am sure you have reasons. But they are not the reasons you think. Do you know why you are here?”
Isra watched the emissary sit down and cleared her throat. “Rainha, the Ministry wants friendship, peace, and cooperation between our people. They have sent us here so that we might learn more about you and begin to forge that bond.”
The Rainha leaned forward. The seduction in her face grew more intense. “Sim. I know this. But do you know why you are here? Do you know what you want, what you really seek in Cytherea?”
Viekko glanced over at Isra sitting next to him. Her face was as cold and as emotionless as ever. He couldn’t tell if the Rainha had caught her off guard or if she wanted a pause in the conversation to emphasize the point she was about to make. Althea and Cronus also looked at Isra, waiting for a response as much as the person who had asked it.
“As I said,” Isra began, “I am a representative of the Ministry. They sent me here to learn about your people—”
“You want control,” said the Rainha.
A slam from the sliding doors emphasized her point. The whole car shook as it began to move up the track through the city.
The Rainha leaned back and looked at her visitors as if they were just another adequate object brought before the great queen. Not remarkable at all and certainly not exceptionally gratifying, but sufficient. “I read people well. I can look at them and know what they are thinking. What they truly desire. It is a gift.”
Great, thought Viekko casting a sideways glance at Isra. There are two of them.
The two women stared at each other for a moment. Finally, Isra broke the silence and continued in English. “Very well. What is it that you want, Isabel? Why have you contacted us now?”
Isabel tilted her head as if the question were of little consequence. “Circunstancia. It was simply time.”
“Why should I believe that? We have searc
hed Venus for many years without a single trace of civilization. Why now?”
Viekko felt the track beneath the car get steeper as it started to crawl up the side of the mountain. The Rainha smiled as if pleasantly surprised that these people might be entertaining after all. “Very well. I will show you. There is someone you should meet.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Though reviled at the time for being a surprise, underhanded assault, Adriana actually laid out the rough idea for the invasion in Trial By Fire:
“Countries like the United States project the illusion of military might. But the truth is their limited resources are spread so thin—fighting wars all over the globe on behalf of their corporate benefactors—that there is little to no defensive power within their borders. A foreign military could, if needed, land a special forces battalion on their shores, neutralize or destroy targets and fall back before the generals or the politicians knew what happened.”
-From The Fall: The Decline and Failure of 21st Century Civilization by Martin Raffe
Near the peak of the Maxwell Mons, far above the sprawling city below, the railcar came to a stop. More attendants in hooded brown robes slid open the door, and a chill breeze shot through. The Rainha lifted herself from the throne and spoke in her native language. “Celia, prepare for our arrival at the arena. We will arrive soon.” The emissary bowed and left.
Once she was gone, the Rainha invited the members of the Human Reconnection Project to follow her and led them to a worn path that wound its way farther up the mountain. The slope here was steep, almost a forty-five-degree angle and, at the top and embedded into the rock, there was a dull, grey heap that Viekko vaguely recognized as a colony ship from the Fall.
A gust of wind picked up, and Viekko had to grab his hat to keep it from flying away as he squinted through the dust and dirt that blew up from the valley. The Rainha, her crimson dress whipping around her slender frame, waved them on as she started up the path.
Even traveling in a switchback pattern, the path cut into the jagged rock near the peak was steep and tough going. In the thin air, Viekko found himself winded after traveling only a few minutes. Isra followed close to the Rainha as if trying to prove something to the Cytherean ruler but she too showed signs of fatigue. Her stature started to break, her steps slowed and her breath became labored. At the front, however, Rainha Isabel breezed up the path as if the wind itself were carrying her. With her elegant dress, soft skin, and gentle features, she very much looked the part of a monarch that expected to be carried on litters and fed grapes by a group of scantily-clad eunuchs. But, here, she was proving she had the endurance and stamina of a career soldier; something that didn’t make sense in Viekko’s mind.
Thankfully, Isabel stopped for a moment to let the group catch up. She looked up to the peak of the mountain and, spoke in a low, distant tone as if she was just thinking aloud. “That is one of the ships that brought our people to this planet and the last that survives. It contains all we know about the world of our ancestors. Everything our people brought to survive was carried on that little ship.”
Now that he was closer, he could see the worn, metal surface of the ancient vessel. A thousand years perched at the top of a mountain had had some impact. If there had been any paint on it once, it had long since been stripped away by the wind, dust, and sand. The surface was pitted and scarred and, in some places, worn away completely, exposing interior components. The top was cluttered with satellite dishes, antennas, and other metal bits that waved, twirled and spun in the winds. Viekko wasn't sure what most of the instruments were, but they looked like the product of a deranged mind with access to a lot of scrap metal.
As the group caught their breath, the Rainha continued. “We took what we needed from our ancestral homeland and left the rest. Where we came from was of no interest to us. The planet our people fled did not want us. Venus was our home now. Earth was just another dot in the sky. You did not find us because we did not wish to be found.”
Isabel turned and started up the mountain path again. Isra looked at the weather-beaten colony ship for a moment and rushed to catch up. “That does not explain why you contacted us now.”
“Those who cannot fight must find other ways of being of service to Cytherea,” explained the Rainha without glancing behind her. “One among us desired her city to have a longer memory. She wanted its people to know the secrets forgotten by our forbearers.”
Viekko nearly stumbled after the first bit of that explanation, “Wait, fight? Fight who?”
Isabel stopped and turned in one elegant movement to address him. Her face was a mix of incredulity and disgust as if she were somehow offended that he would even ask. “Cytherea always has enemies. It makes us strong.” Then, as gracefully as before, she turned and beckoned them farther up the mountain.
The wind picked up the closer they got to the peak. A few meters from the ancient ship there was nothing but the roar of the wind and the feeling that, at any moment, one might be pushed off the top and sent rolling back the way they came. Rainha Isabel moved as if the elements no more affected her than the mountain itself. She led the group to the ship and opened a hatch that, at some point, had been cut into the side of the hull. Inside, the Rainha led the way down a cramped tunnel, and Viekko had to crouch slightly to keep from hitting his head on the ceiling. A string of lights lit the way through the narrow corridors, not simple incandescent lamps, as one might fashion with the technology present, but soft white light from more archaic and advanced sources. They were not built, but salvaged from some other part of the ship and rigged together.
They exited the tunnel and walked into the handiwork of a madman. More lights hung from the ceiling on long strands of frayed wire, outlining piles of mechanical and electronic equipment that occupied nearly every square inch of the floor. This room looked like the control center of the lander once, but every instrument panel, monitor, and computer was pulled out of the walls, dismantled, and thrown on a pile. The only way to get from one side to the other was through a few paths cleared through the wreckage.
“It’s been completely destroyed,” said Viekko looking around.
Cronus took a bundle of cable. “No, no. Look hard. Not destroyed. Dismantled.”
He held up the wires. Each one had a small slip of paper with written notes attached.
Cronus picked through them, holding each individual strand between his fingers for a brief moment. “A great vibrating nerve carefully disassembled to its most basic components. Complexity reduced to simple parts. The heart of understanding.”
Viekko had several snide comments lined up, but he was interrupted by a sudden crash and a volley of Cytherean.
“Merda! Cu!”
Viekko’s language training during hibernation had apparently not covered these words specifically but, given the tone and the volume, he was sure he could insert any number of expletives without being far off. The sound of heavy boots on metal accompanied the yelling, and a woman appeared from an adjacent room.
“What idiot brings such pain to my—” the woman yelled at the group. She stopped short when she saw Isabel standing with them and dropped to one knee. “Rainha Isabel. Many apologies.”
Isabel seemed amused by the outburst. She raised her hand and spoke in English. “Rise child. I have brought the people from Earth. The people you contacted. Friends, please meet Joana.”
Joana removed the heavy set of goggles she was wearing and spoke in broken English. “Very good to meet you. Very happy to have you here.”
There must be something in the water, thought Viekko. Joana was not stunningly beautiful like the women that had waved at him from the walls. She was quite a bit shorter, and her face and hair were caked with grease and dirt, but there was a beauty there that made Viekko think of the girls he knew growing up on the Martian colony. The woman wore the same brown clothes as the Rainha’s servants but the fabric was pinned tight, revealing a muscular, curvy frame. She scanned the group with deep blue-gr
ey eyes that threatened to dismantle Viekko's mind and toss it with the rest of the wreckage.
Cronus obviously noticed it as well. Viekko sidled up next to the little man and nudged him with his elbow., “Cool it, man,” he whispered, “you’re droolin’.”
Isra stepped forward, perhaps to keep the wide-eyed netbaby from making things awkward. "You built a radio transmitter?"
Joana shook her head. “No. It was here inside the ship, but it did not work. I repair it.”
The woman gestured to a wooden slab hanging just above a gutted control panel; perforated with wires, glass tubes, and assorted debris from the wreckage. "The radio lost its spirit. I rebuild.”
Cronus made his way, with a certain reverence, through the piles of parts to the makeshift device. He craned his head from side to side, examining it from every angle. “It’s… beautiful,” said Cronus. “You rebuilt the motherboard for the signal processor. It’s a hundred times bigger and probably produces lag in the system, but it could work. You did this?”
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