Templum Veneris

by Jeremy L. Jones

  “I am ready,” said Cronus.

  Joana flipped a series of switches, ending with a bright red one as long as her middle finger. The moment she pulled it down, the ship went dark, leaving Cronus’ orb as the only source of light. “This will not take long,” he said, as he crawled into the darkness.

  Joana made her way across the room, carefully avoiding the piles of deconstructed electrical equipment, and knelt by the open panel and watched Cronus work for a moment. “Did you find fun in the city last night?”

  Cronus’ voice echoed inside the panel. “I slept. Can you move the orb a few centimeters to the right please?”

  Joana touched the orb with some hesitation, nudging it into a new position. “Better?”

  “Yes. Hold it there. I just need to make a few more connections.”

  “Were you with anyone?”

  Cronus wiped the sweat from his forehead. Only some of it was from the heat inside the ship. “Of course not!” Then, realizing he sounded defensive added, “Viekko lent me his room in the Sala. The work here has been very trying.”

  “I am sorry if I am keeping you…”

  Cronus started to slide out. “Why would you apologize? If I did not want to be here, I would not be. You have done fascinating work. It must be completed.” Once free from the inside of the panel, he sat up. “Now we restore the power. We bring new life to these old systems.”

  Joana helped him to his feet, and they made their way back to the main electrical panel. Joana flipped the switches in the same order as she had before pausing at the large, red switch. She smiled at Cronus and took his hand. “Are you ready?”

  That simple touch both stimulated and terrified him. Despite the amount of time she spent working on the machines, her hand felt smooth and delicate. His throat went dry, and he had to swallow hard to eke out the words. “Yes. I am ready.”

  Joana took a deep breath and pushed up on the switch. Somewhere deep inside the ship, there was a loud, hollow metallic crash. The lights didn’t even flicker. Not one monitor came back to life.

  Joana sighed, and Cronus let go of her hand. They waited in silence for a moment. “It is possible the capacitor needs a moment to warm…”

  As soon as he started saying it, every light in the ship flickered on. Cronus spun around and clapped his hands as one by one, almost all the monitors displayed a start-up sequence. After a few minutes, a simple logo appeared—a blue orb dotted with tiny stars—along with the words, ‘Sociedades por Acoes’. After that, a progress bar started moving slowly to the right.

  Cronus and Joana looked at each other, her eyes sparkled with delight. She clasped her hands together as if she were about to say a prayer. “You did it! The systems have returned. Thank you, Cronus. Thank you, thank you.”

  This was it. This was the moment. He had spent the last two days throwing away every opportunity he was given. If he didn’t do something bold now, he would leave this planet always wondering what could have been.

  It’s like Viekko said, “If there’s something you want, something that’s going to make you happy, you gotta just go for it.”

  He took her hands in his and started to lean forward. Joana closed her eyes and leaned in to meet him.

  It was going to happen, thought Cronus. And it was going to be perfect.

  His right forearm started to tingle, indicating an EROS comm waiting for him. He pulled away just before his lips met Joana’s.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, touching his ear. “It’s Isra. What do you want Isra!” he said, with more than a touch of irritation in his voice.

  Joana stood back and awkwardly glanced around at the ship.

  Cronus meanwhile tried to focus on Isra’s voice. She spoke the Cytherean language, and her voice seemed to come from far away.

  “Isra! Are you trying to talk to me? What do you want?”

  Isra continued talking in Cytherean. She kept repeating a phrase that included his name but, otherwise, he couldn’t understand. To him, it sounded like Isra was having a conversation in Cytherean.

  “Isra, I’m going to shut this down. I am busy.”

  Isra, now sounding highly annoyed, repeated the phrase one more time and continued her conversation.

  Cronus shook his head and ended the comm.

  “Is everything okay?” asked Joana.

  “I don’t know. It was strange. Do you know what ‘quando captamos o Cronus’ means?”

  Joana sucked in a breath, and her eyes shot open. “Who?”

  “It was Isra. She was speaking to someone else. I don’t know who.”

  Joana grabbed one of his hands and started dragging him through the ship, “Come. You must hide.”

  ****

  Celia held the door of the railcar open for Isra and four of the Rainha’s soldiers. Isra stepped out onto the windy mountaintop and looked up to the black bullet-shaped craft embedded into the top of the mountain. She didn’t have much time to warn Cronus.

  As they walked on the trail to the summit, Celia watched Isra as if looking for some sign, any sign, that the woman from Earth would try and disobey the Rainha on some level. Isra realized she would have to employ a less direct method to warn Cronus. The problem was that he was not the quickest at grasping subterfuge. If it had to do with wires, code and cryptographic protocols he was one of the most brilliant minds Isra ever worked with. But in matters of human interaction, Cronus was only slightly better than a young child.

  Still, she was running out of time and options.

  Even with Celia glancing in her direction occasionally, Isra slowly inched the sleeve of her jacket up just enough to touch the screen again. She kept her eyes on the path ahead and used her peripheral vision to find the icons that would contact Cronus.

  “What do you want, Isra?” Cronus’s voice sounded highly annoyed, and more than a little agitated. It was clear to Isra that her call interrupted something and it didn’t require much imagination to guess at the nature of it, but she pushed it out of her mind for now.

  “Celia,” Isra started, conversationally speaking Cytherean. “When we capture Cronus, what are we going to do with him?”

  Celia shrugged. “You know the Rainha’s orders. His fate is the same as yours. You will be held in the Sala until your armies from Earth arrive.”

  “Isra!” Cronus repeated, oblivious to the message Isra was trying to send. “Are you trying to talk to me? What do you want?”

  Isra tried to speak more deliberately. “Yes. I understand that. But when we capture Cronus, will he be held in a cell? Do you expect information from him? I want to be sure he is not hurt.”

  Celia regarded her with a touch of suspicion. “I do not know. But the Rainha is not a cruel person. So long as you and…Cronus cooperate. As well as Althea. No harm will come to you.”

  “Isra.” Cronus spoke more forcefully. “I’m going to shut this down. I am busy.”

  “But when we capture Cronus,” Isra put as much force into the words as she felt she could without being completely obvious. “I want to be absolutely sure no harm will come to him. Or Althea. This is important.”

  “What are you doing right now?” Celia asked as she stopped and turned to glare at Isra. She could feel the emissary’s suspicion like an itching or burning on her skin.

  The comm went dead, and Isra sighed. He either got the message, or he didn’t. Isra couldn’t do anything about it now. “I just want to be clear as to what the Rainha expects,” she said, as she kept walking. “The lives of my people are very important to me. I do not wish them harm because of simple carelessness.”

  Celia rushed to catch up. “Do not fear. I say again, the Rainha is not cruel. She cares only about avenging the honor of Cytherea.”

  “But why?” said Isra, forcefully. “Have you thought about this at all? You have but one city. With perhaps two or three hundred thousand people? An impressive army, but what are their numbers? Ten thousand? I doubt it is more than twenty-five thousand.”

  Celia sigh
ed. “What is your point?”

  “My point is,” said Isra flatly, “Earth has billions. And many armies. Many have more than a million soldiers each. You cannot possibly win this war.”

  “The strength of Cytherea lies in her soldiers and…”

  “Sim! Sim!” Isra turned to stand in front of the emissary. “I have heard much about the strength of Cytherea these last few days. But they are not strong enough to do battle with an army ten times their strength. And many will die. Your city will be captured and, perhaps, destroyed. Is that what you want?”

  “The Rainha is wise,” snapped Celia.

  Isra shook her head and continued up the side of the mountain, “Sim. So I have heard.”

  The inside of the ancient ship was brighter than Isra remembered it a couple days ago, and inside the main control room, more monitors hummed with life. Cronus had been busy up here, but, to her small relief, he was nowhere to be seen inside the ship. There was only the small oculto woman, Joana, busy with the control panel.

  Celia shouted orders to her soldiers who marched across the cluttered ship and, before she could react, took Joana by each arm. “Where is the other one? Cronus? Where is he?” Celia’s voice was as serene as it was when they were touring the city.

  Joana tried to pull her arms free. When that proved fruitless, she gritted her teeth. “Gone. Hours ago. I do not know where.”

  Celia stared down at the smaller woman and Isra had the urge to step forward and break up the potential fight, but the look on Joana’s face gave her pause. While she was clearly afraid, there was a hot fire of resistance burning inside her.

  Celia lost some of her serenity. “Oculto! Do not lie to me.”

  “No lies,” Joana spat back. “He helped finish the repairs, and he decided to leave quickly. He did not say where.”

  Celia studied Joana for a moment. “This is of no concern. If he is in the city, we will find him. If he tries to go back to his people, we will know. There is something more important than this matter. We need you to contact Earth.”

  Joana began chewing on her lip and looked at Isra. Somehow she knew what Celia had planned. Isra didn’t know how, but the fear and nervousness she saw in Joana’s face told her that sucking Earth into a war with Cytherea was not a new idea. Isra slowly nodded her head to let the woman know that it was okay.

  The soldiers released Joana, and she walked back to the control panel rubbing her arms. Isra walked through the debris-strewn room to stand a few meters away and watched as she accessed an archaic program to align a transmitter dish. When Earth was in range, Joana stepped away. “It is ready,” she said with her head down.

  The instructions on the screen, written in ancient Portuguese, told Isra enough to activate the radio. Whether anyone would be listening on the other side was another question. Probably not; it was a miracle Isra happened to catch the signal when she did. However, both the Ministry and the Corporation knew about a lost colony on Venus now, and there was no way to know how many dishes on Earth were turned to the morning star. But, still, Isra didn’t see any option at this point. She reached out to touch an icon that would begin the transmission.

  “Hurry,” said Celia. “Send your message. As the Rainha orders. Our soldiers need battle.”

  Isra paused and looked at Celia with a frown. “What did you say?”

  Celia practically snarled. “Stop your stalling. Do as the Rainha orders.”

  “Because Cytherea needs soldiers.” Isra was thinking out loud.

  Realization hit her like the blinding light from the sun itself. Of course, it made perfect sense now. That aching, gnawing feeling like pins in the back of her spine. It wasn’t just because they were lying to her, it was because the truth was everywhere to be seen if Isra had the mind to look for it.

  “How long?” asked Isra, turning around. “How long have the rebellions been going on?”

  “What do you mean?” Celia responded through clenched teeth.

  Isra’s mind replayed the previous several hours. She thought about the altercation she glimpsed from the Rainha’s balcony and the movements in the alleyway as she moved through the city. In any other city, they would have been normal, but Cytherea wasn’t normal. Cytherea was the vision of perfection under complete authoritarian rule. She remembered the slip of paper the oculto left for her. She remembered the scar across his eye. And, despite all that, a woman that dared approach Althea to save her baby.

  Viekko was always fond of saying that you can only keep people under your boot for so long.

  “The truth is,” Isra started walking toward the Rainha’s emissary. “You never brought us here to discuss peace. At least, that’s not what Isabel had in mind.”

  “Do as you are instructed, Isra.” Celia’s voice was as cold as space itself.

  Isra continued toward her. “Rainha Isabel is losing control and has been for a while now. Harsher penalties, stricter laws, nothing seems to keep the acts of rebellion from springing up wherever you look. Isabel sees this, and she knows what it means. It is only a matter of time before another house rises to power, and she and her house becomes just another statue in the garden of the Sala Gran.”

  “The Rainha commands it,” Celia snapped, this time with a touch of desperation in her voice.

  Isra shook her head. “But it is not what you want. It is not what they want.” She indicated the four soldiers standing by with confused looks on their faces. “You know that Cytherea cannot win a war against Earth, but it does not matter to the Rainha, she may lose power regardless. But, through war with Earth, the people of Cytherea will flock to her, begging for her protection.”

  Isra was up close now, forcing Celia to step backward. “Do not speak to me like this. You spread lies. Do as the Rainha demands.” She managed to slip a commanding tone in her voice, but Isra could see that there was nothing behind it. Celia already knew the truth, but she had never heard it spoken aloud before. If she had any faith in Isabel’s cult of power, she would have ordered the soldiers to intervene. But they just stood at attention waiting for Celia and looking more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

  “You cannot cross your Rainha, I get that,” Isra said softly. “But you need not follow orders that will certainly lead to the destruction of Cytherea.”

  For the first time since Isra had turned around, Celia met her eyes. She was on the verge of crying, but there was something hard and resolute there as well. “What would you have me do?”

  “We leave,” said Isra. “We go back to the Rainha and tell her we did as she ordered. After that, if you can, try to get me out of the city. If you cannot, there will be other ways. But I will leave. My people with me. The Rainha will not get her war.”

  Celia turned slightly to the soldiers. “Guarda! Go wait outside. We shall follow soon.”

  The soldiers’ arms shot out to salute, and they went to the exit of the ship. Isra and Celia stood there for a moment before Isra took her hands. “Thank you, friend. Thank you.”

  Celia took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “What about the other man. Cronus?”

  Joana approached with her head lowered. “I can help him get out of the city.”

  Isra nodded toward Joana. “Thank you. That only leaves me. And Viekko, if he is alive.”

  “There is a way,” said Celia. “It will not be easy, but we can get you out of the city.”

  “What about that man… Viekko?” said Joana.

  Isra swallowed hard to keep her own emotions in check, “I do not know. I fear that he is dead. But if he is not, he is strong. He will find a way.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “The problem with the American method of warfare,” said a Corporation general in charge of the Brazilian assault, “is that they are used to breaking down the door, taking what they need, and sparing the house. But sometimes it’s best to burn the whole rotten thing to the foundation.”

  -From The Fall: The Decline and Failure of 21st Century Civilization by Martin Raffe


  Althea sat locked in her quarters aboard the shuttle and looked at the readout on her EROS again. She felt sick every time she looked at the screen. It couldn’t be true. It had to be some error in the system, a communication breakdown, or a bad connection.

  But all the evidence appeared to show the same thing.

  About an hour ago, Viekko’s vitals became increasingly erratic. His pulse skyrocketed, his adrenaline peaked, his blood pressure became just shy of dangerous; every sign in his body told the same story. Viekko was in the middle of battle and then, for no apparent reason, his pulse flat-lined, and she lost the signal altogether.