Chapter Seventeen
The Twists and Turns of Fate
Otrera’s Royal Guards had no more success in keeping Ares at bay than they had that morning. They twittered in protest and hung on to him, trying to drag him back as he burst through the doorway. He just kept going, pulling the tall and slender guards along with him, each of them sliding and scrambling for grip. One of them fell among the furniture in a tangle of long legs and golden hair. Ares looked down at her and saw the tears in her eyes. It was only then that he stopped.
Until that moment he hadn’t really seen their faces. He hadn’t seen them at all. They were just the nameless guards who always blocked his path, or stared down at him in disdain. Now they were different. He glanced around at them, seeing their anxious and sad faces for the first time. There was no arrogant haughtiness in their expressions now. They all had tears in their eyes.
Ares bent down and gently helped the fallen Klysanthian to her feet. He stroked her blonde hair back in place and finally cupped her face in his hand. He felt her wet cheek against his skin, her tears warm.
“What is your name?”
“Orithia,” she said in a soft voice.
“Are you alone in my world?”
“No, my mother, Marpesia is cousin to Queen Otrera.”
“Then your sister was Molpadia?”
“Yes. She was second to be born whereas I was the first.”
“So the captaincy of the Loving Saviour could have been yours, but you chose instead to serve as Royal Guard?”
“All of us that are left serve.”
He released her, suddenly aware of what they were discussing. “I’m sorry. I need to speak with Queen Otrera. You know why.”
She nodded. “I will announce your presence.”
With a wave of her hand she dismissed the other guards and walked quietly toward the bedroom. The other guards moved toward another door. Ares had a sudden need to speak with them.
“Will I see you here tomorrow, blocking my path as always?”
One of the guards paused and turned. “You will see us for as long as our Queen needs us.”
It was an enigmatic reply that left Ares no more confident when they had gone.
It was such a waste. He felt such anger. But he had almost forgotten the reason why until he had seen the Klysanthian on the floor. At that moment, with that tearful expression, he suddenly felt like he could see them all, see them all as the fires burned and the black void of space devoured them.
Such a waste, and all for nothing.
Otrera came into the room. The red cloak had been discarded, but she still wore the leather tunic, white silk skirt and thigh length boots that mimicked those worn by an Atlantian soldier. Ares stared at her as she dismissed the guard, Orithia. Even through his anger, her body stirred him. The sight of her long and exquisite thighs exposed above the boots, the skirt worn so low about her hips that it left far too generous a view of her abdomen and delicate navel, her breasts so beautifully rounded in the tight but meagre tunic, it all did exactly what it was supposed to do.
Ares waited until Orithia had left before he spoke.
“You knew.”
It was a simple and clear accusation. Otrera decided to ignore it. Instead she smiled and held her arms out wide in an obvious gesture.
“Do you like my warrior dress? I thought it fitting for the occasion.”
“It would give you little protection against a Keruh axe,” Ares replied in a stern voice.
The smile faded. “True.” She looked down and drew her hand across her exposed abdomen. “A blow here would cut me in two, would it not?” She looked up at him again. “Would that make you sad? If I was gone forever, would you mourn me?”
“As I mourn those others.”
Otrera lowered her hands and walked slowly toward him. She stood right in front of him, her body a tantalisingly short distance away. Even before she had entered, Ares could already taste her in the air, but now that she was so close he was enveloped in the heady perfume from her body, that exquisite scent that drove all self will from his mind.
Ares placed his hands on her thighs. It was an urge he had wanted to fulfil since he had seen her legs under the red cloak in The Great Hall of the Council War Room. Now he felt the soft rounded skin of her thighs at last, that silky touch that drove his needs ever higher. He moved his hands slowly upward under her short skirt. He reached her hips, his fingers finding a tiny thread that gave little resistance.
Otrera stared down at him, her hands now on his shoulders, her face full of expectancy as she leaned closer. But his words dulled her desire.
“You could have stopped it.”
“Must we speak of this now?” she murmured in his ear.
“Yes!” Ares roared, and suddenly broke away from her. “They die, in blood and fire! While you tempt me with your body! Are you so cold, Otrera? Is your heart so selfish and hollow?”
He turned to face her again, his anger clear in his eyes, and he answered his own questions.
“Yes!” he roared again. “Selfish and hollow! You are an empty vessel, Otrera!”
Otrera’s expression now became aloof and haughty. “Empty! Hollow!” she repeated, grinding out the words, her delicate voice almost trembling. “You think I am blind to what takes place in the skies above Eden? You think I have no care? You are the one who is blind! My race has perished, Ares! My world is gone and millions of my people have already died! All of them fell to the axes you spoke of!”
She stepped closer to him again, steadying herself with her feet apart. There was no desire in her body now, only equal anger.
“You think I could stop it? You think they would listen? Are we so different from the Tun-Sho-Lok?”
Ares made a fist in front of her. “You can survive on our world!”
“For how long?” she shouted back. “Most of our males died on Klysanthia! Those we brought with us are far too few!”
“But you can breed with us! Our blood is the same! There is a future, a reason to live on!”
“Yes! We can breed with your people, Ares! I know this more so than any other of my race! Even now your seed grows within me!”
Otrera’s face glowed in triumph at his startled expression. But she didn’t give him time to recover. Quickly seizing his hand, she placed it against her abdomen, moving it over her skin.
“Can you not feel the difference in my body, can you not feel the slight bulge growing? She is your seed, Ares, yours and mine. But will she be Klysanthian, or Atlantian? How many generations will pass before our blood is finally lost among yours?”
Ares could indeed feel. But her abdomen felt as it always did, the skin warm and silky smooth, her tiny navel crushed under his fingers.
A child. His child. His mind exploded with the sudden possibilities and the twists and turns of fate. It was too much to think of now.
Ares tore his hand away and turned his back on her.
“You could have commanded them to live!” he shouted, and began to walk toward the door.
Otrera ran quickly around him. She placed her hand on his chest, stopping him.
“I did!” she screamed, her delicate voice now a squeal. “I commanded them, I led them! I wanted them to live! But instead all I did was watch them die in the thousands on the battlefields! I watched them fall in mounting piles as the evacuation of Klysanthia was under way! Even the Androktones fighting at their side couldn’t save them! How could I save them? What could I do, Ares?”
“You could have told me!” he said between clenched teeth, his voice harsh and unsympathetic.
“Told you? Told you what?” she roared back at him. “That my world was dead? Devoured by the Keruh Host? Is this what you wanted to know? Did you miss it somewhere? Then I will tell you, Ares!” She stepped back, her legs apart again, and her hands now on her hips. “My sisters are dead! All devoured! Fed to the Hives! Their bodies are all crushed and dismembered! Each family line has
been cut, their homelands stripped and their males killed! All have fed the wriggling babies of the Keruh! Now there is nothing for us! Nothing but gradual absorption into your genetic future! What choice do we have? What bright future lies ahead? Better to die in fire, consuming the enemy we detest! Revenge is all! There is nothing left! Even for me, trapped here amid words of diplomacy and false promises!” Her voice became bitter, tinged with sarcasm. “You think I enjoy this life on your world? You think I am grateful that my lungs and muscles ache and I must live on charity? I am a Queen! A Queen of the dead! Much better to have died with my sisters, to strike deep at the enemy! Instead I must smile and bow and live on.” She walked back and forth with mock gentility as she spoke, bowing and smiling falsely. Then she straightened up. “I hate it!” she screamed.
Suddenly the emotion seemed to drain from her. She raised her head, and the haughty manner of the Queen had returned. But her emotions still burned beneath the image.
“Our time is past, Ares. Like the Tun-Sho-Lok, many of my sisters will pick their time to die. I cry for them, but I envy them. You have no right to reproach me.”
Ares had watched her outburst. He had never seen her so animated or so emotional before, her delicate voice so cracked and strained. It was another side of her she had kept from him. Somehow it wasn’t a surprise.
“You knew,” he accused her again, his voice more calm at last. “Even before Bremusa and Telepyleia left for Eden, you knew this would happen, and you kept silent. That is what I cannot forgive. And now, when the moment came, you ran away.”
Otrera lowered her head. “I couldn’t face it,” she whispered.
“No,” he agreed. “But they could. And you let them.”
She looked up again, the haughty expression back once more. “And what could you have done, the mighty Ares, God of War, the Stamping Horse of Atlantis? How could you have saved my sisters?”
“By splitting their fleets among our own. By dividing them up and scattering them among our ships the choice to destroy themselves is gone. They wanted to win more than they wanted to die. Some may still have followed the same course, but more of them would have been alive now. And that day when your blood finally looses itself among ours would have been that much more distant. But your silence has condemned you as it condemned them.”
The haughty expression faded and tears ran from her eyes. “A simple solution proved by hindsight. It would have only delayed the inevitable. But you are right, I should have told you, I didn’t think...”
Her words failed her at last and she stepped forward and leaned against him. Ares pushed her back, holding her at arm’s length.
“You are Queen, Otrera, you have to think. Always. It isn’t easy, I know. I have seen the torment in the eyes of President Aegina as she stands before the great globe watching the carnage unfold. She makes the decisions that condemns us or saves us. I am only her tool. If I fail, others will pick up the task and continue, but she must choose their path. If she fails, we all fail. I would not change places with her, or with you. You made a mistake, and despite my love for you, its consequences cannot be denied.”
Ares let go of her and then walked around her, heading for the door once more. Behind him, Otrera turned and watched him walk away.
“Will you give me no solace?” she called after him. “At this moment of sadness will you give me no brief or parting moment of joy?”
“In this fact you guess correctly,” Ares replied as he continued walking. “I fully understand your needs, and your persistent intent to satisfy them. But I find that the attraction of your body has waned on me, and it no longer fills me with desire.”
“And our child? Will you dismiss her also?”
It was a last barb that caused Ares to pause in the doorway. “Bring her up with pride. She is the reason you seek to live, and in that, she may be the only good thing to come from our blood.”
Otrera watched Ares disappear out the doorway. The instant he was gone she turned and tore the white skirt from her body, and with a high-pitched scream of temper, she hurled it aside.
Ares made his way back toward the great hall. He had been angry at the loss of life, but now he felt empty. A tragedy had occurred that might have been avoided. He kept going over in his mind the actions he would have taken if he had known. The answer had seemed simple when he spoke to Otrera, but would it have been enough? And had he been naïve not to consider it a possibility in the first place? She had suggested so. Maybe he was as guilty as the Klysanthian Queen. It was difficult to tell, and now the time had past and all he could feel was the frustration caused by his inability to act when it had mattered.
Frustration and emptiness.
Leaving the main building of the palace, Ares walked across the terrace where he and Li-Sen-Tot had sat only the day before. He remembered how they had almost argued over Otrera. It seemed so long ago. The view over Metropolis had changed slightly. The many buildings, squares and gardens remained the same, but there was an air of urgency about the place now. Everywhere the streets were filled with people carrying bundles and packages. Some even pulled carts that were stacked far too high. Others led horses. They were all making their way to the quayside where dozens of ships queued up to load. Many more had already sailed. Each ship was met with a flurry of activity as the people who had waited for their turn quickly moved forward to board. Space was at a premium, and not all of the belongings the people had brought could be taken. Already there was a large collection of abandoned packages left on the quay.
Ares paused to stare at the scene as he crossed the terrace. The evacuation had already begun, and the people of Atlantis had taken to their sad task with a mixture of calm resolution and dogged determination. There was no panic in the streets, no cries of dissent or screams of anguish. Instead it was an orderly procession as an entire population, resigned to their fate, took to the ships that waited to receive them.
Aegina was right, they were a strong people, and no matter where the ships finally brought them, no matter what place they chose as their new home, in that place, Atlantis would exist again.
Ares turned away from the scene only to find a towering but slender figure blocking his way. He looked up at Orithia in mild surprise. He hadn’t even heard her approach.
“You block my path once more, and yet I am not intruding on your Queen’s apartments.”
Orithia looked around, her eyes searching for anyone who might be watching. Satisfied that they were alone, her eyes finally came to rest on his.
“I had to speak with you.”
Ares felt slightly suspicious. “For what reason?”
Orithia stepped closer and grasped Ares hand with both of hers, her expression filled with emotion.
“Because I felt the hurt within you. When you touched my face it was so clear, so powerful, as powerful as your anger toward Queen Otrera for not acting to prevent it. I have never felt such sadness, such despair.” She raised his hand to her face, placing it against her cheek. “Your pain at the death of my sisters was almost physical, I still feel it burn within you now. Such emotion must hide a great love.”
Ares relaxed and sighed. And pulling his hand from her grasp he said, “I am not the only one who feels such love for your race.”
“You speak of Li-Sen-Tot,” Orithia quickly replied. “It is true that he was a frequent visitor and consort to Otrera. But it was not just love that they shared. There were many things that he spoke of that my Queen has kept from you, that even now she will deny.”
Ares looked at her with suspicion once more. “What things?” he demanded in a stern voice.
Orithia glanced around again before answering. “I was not party to their many discussions. But I know one thing, Li-Sen-Tot was a member of the Humeric Council.”
Ares stared at her. It was a single fact, one of such vital importance, but still a fact that gave him little help. Until that moment Ares had always believed Kel-Cid-An to be the only memb
er of the Humeric Council to have survived the loss of Lokana. And because of the geneticist’s lack of interest and knowledge in the practical sides of war, Ares had assumed that the final outcome would be down to him alone. Now that assumption was proved to be untrue.
The Humeric Council had ruled the Tun-Sho-Lok for thousands of years, each member gaining their place through hereditary succession. That meant that Li-Sen-Tot had kept his membership of the Council a secret from him for all the time they had known one another. It meant that he had been party to, and probably involved in, all the plans that the Tun-Sho-Lok had made for the final stages of the war. There had to be a reason for his secrecy, and now the presence of his old friend on Eden filled Ares with an even greater foreboding.
“Why has Otrera kept this from me?” he asked Orithia.
“Because she and the Ambassador share a common loss, a loss we all share.”
Ares nodded in understanding. “And this shared loss not only binds you together in grief, but in hatred also?”
Orithia lowered her head. “I was not party to their discussions,” she repeated very lamely.
“So you said. But you know their content.”
She raised her head but could not answer, and Ares knew he had surmised correctly.
“Yes, I thought so.” He saw the sadness in her eyes turn to fear and he relented. “Do not worry. I will not press you to betray Otrera. Nor will I speak of this conversation. The truth is it matters little now. I thank you for this information, but it is a shame that I did not have it a week ago.” He sighed and turned his back to her, staring out over the city once more. “It seems that whenever I can act, I am in ignorance, and when I am wise, I can no longer act.”
Orithia moved closer to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. And when she spoke her voice held more than just a hint of yearning.
“Again I feel the hurt within you,” she whispered softly. “Again I feel the love you have for us. I cannot let such love go unanswered.”
She moved her arms slowly around him, placing her tiny hands on his chest, and pulling him close. And lowering her head onto his, she closed her eyes and began to rub his hair with her cheek.
Ares now smiled. It was a soft smile, still tinged with sadness. “What you seek from me I have already denied to Otrera—”
“I do not ask for what my Queen asks,” Orithia interrupted, her delicate voice more urgent. She held him tighter. “I heard what you said to the other Royal Guards, to Hera, Metis, and the others. You asked if they would still be here tomorrow. I know the reason for your question. You fear for us, you fear that we would throw away our lives as those before us have done. You are correct in your surmise. The time hangs heavy about our shoulders. We can see only the things we have lost. They haunt our dreams and fill our waking minds with grief. Our world, those we loved, children, family, all of it is gone, taken from us in the cruellest of ways. Those of us who are here wish they were among those who were left behind. I cannot speak for the others, but I have no reason to live on. There is nothing here for me but more time to dwell on the past.”
“And what of Marpesia?” Ares quickly interrupted.
“Yes, my mother. We have met very rarely since the Loving Saviour was lost. Our eyes share the same torment. Molpadia is gone, and yet she was the youngest. You were right, Ares, I did choose to serve. And Molpadia was only too eager to be captain in my place. Now my mother and I are the only two of our family line to have survived. To meet is to grieve, so we avoid the pain. But my mother is stronger than I. She gains much from her friendship with Lampedo. They share many plans and goals for the future in this new world. It is a distraction I cannot share.” Her voice took on a greater urgency. “Listen to me, Ares. I have only the uniform and the oath to serve, and within a day, all of that will no longer matter. Give me a reason to stay, Ares. Give me a reason to live on, or mourn the passing of my life along with those of my sisters.”
Ares turned his head but kept his back to her. “And what can I give you?”
“The love in your heart, the seed in your loins.”
“And this is all you would ask?”
“If I am to leave anything behind on this world, if I am to live on, I can think of no other I would wish to share my life with.”
He turned to face her at last, breaking her embrace. “You are right, I have much love for your race, and I mourn its loss with great sadness. That loss could have been avoided, but it is too late now. Otrera is right: in a few generations only the heritage of your blood will survive. But it will be a strong heritage, for there will be many men who will take the love you offer, for it is easy to love you. You make it easy, far too easy.”
He emphasised his words carefully, and Orithia picked up on his meaning. Grasping his hands again, she dropped to her knees before him, her tiny voice trembling with emotion.
“If you choose me, I know that you will be loyal, that you will keep me safe, and that you will honour me and love me. In return I will live as your people live. I will look to no other, and I will keep myself only for you, from this moment on until death. My children will be your children, Ares, and they will grow up to learn only of strength, courage, loyalty, and pride.”
She spoke with such need, that Ares could only look down at her in surprise. It was the second time that he had seen a Klysanthian go down on her knees that day. But something told him that the gesture was more genuine this time, and for a while he had no reply. All he could do was stare at her upturned face, transfixed by her exquisite features and the tears that had welled up in her pale blue eyes. Finally a thought occurred to him.
“Yours will not be my only children.”
Orithia nodded. “I know this, and I am not jealous. Her daughter will be older than mine, but mine will have greater spirit.”
Ares laughed. But his laughter was brief and the smile quickly faded from his lips. In its place was left a much more intense and yearning expression. And stepping closer to her, he placed her two hands on his hips and reached out to stroke her hair. Then he cupped her delicate face in his hands, moving his thumbs gently over her cheeks, rubbing the tears away. She waited expectantly, staring back up at him with the same intense expression until he finally bent down, kissing her gently on her forehead and then on the mouth. It was the slightest brush of his lips against hers, but he instantly felt the flood of desire wash through her body and into his. She raised her head eagerly to continue the kiss, but Ares still had the strength to break away. He quickly stepped back, holding her at arm’s length.
“You have your reason to live, Orithia,” he said in a soft voice. “I cannot deny such a pledge or such a need. But my thoughts are elsewhere at this time.” He began helping her to her feet. “Rise, come to me on the morrow, when my heart will be softer and my mind less troubled, and speak with me again.”
Orithia now stood tall and proud before him, once more it was her that looked down on him. She seemed satisfied by his decision, and she quickly nodded. “I will do as you ask. I am content to wait, but until we are together my body will burn with the need for you.”
She turned and walked quickly away, a fluid vision of slender limbs and sinuous body.
Ares waited until she had gone before he took several deep breaths, sighing loudly. Then he rubbed his face with his hands, shook his head, and slowly resumed his journey back to the great hall.
When Ares entered the great hall he found the Senators and President Aegina still gazing up at the great globe as the sadly diminished dots of light whirled to face one another as before. Around Eden, there were even less dots.
Aetolus saw him re-enter, and his expression filled Ares with mixed feelings. Ares expected him to make some remark at his prolonged absence, but instead Aetolus merely bowed in acknowledgement of his return. Ares bowed in reply.
No one else seemed to notice him, and the atmosphere in the great hall was filled with even greater despair than when he had left it. Each of
the Senators stared up at the great globe in sadness, many had tears on their faces, and some cried openly, shaking their heads in anguish. Even President Aegina now shed tears. She looked broken. And still it went on.
Ares beckoned to Hephaestus who quickly came over to him.
“What news?” Ares asked him in a low voice.
Hephaestus also kept his voice hushed, but he spoke hurriedly.
“The battle has reached the fifth intersection, with the time between intersections growing larger at each turn. Both forces are still about equal, although the losses are very high. I fear the numbers of those dead will soon break the resolve of those who watch and wait.”
“And the Klysanthians?”
“Only a handful of their ships remain intact at Eden, even less of the Keruh vessels. They still fight, but the engagements are few and the action is more a pursuit around Eden, with none able to descend to give any support on the ground due to the active Defence Net.”
“What of the Androktones?”
“They have broken out of the Edenite RNP building and have entered Jutlam City. The fighting is fierce as usual, but the Keruh are being pushed back from street to street. It won’t be long before the Androktones come under bombardment from captured Edenite ships.”
Ares thought for a moment, his eyes drifting over the agonised faces of the Senators. “Advise the Androktones that it is imperative that they establish control of the Defence Net as soon as they can. If necessary, open a fresh portal. Then contact Memnon. Advise him of events and have him despatch several ships to support the Klysanthians. They have to clear the skies above Eden and give support to the Androktones when the Defence Net is under our control. Ask him also to send any ships he can spare back home to aid in the evacuation of Atlantis.”
“He will not be most pleased.”
“There is nothing we can do now about the loss of the Klysanthian fleets. We have to accept it and make adjustments. With them out of the equation, Memnon will have to provide the support for the Androktones in their place.”
“I understand, but I had meant that Memnon would not be most pleased at the need to send ships home.”
“Advise him of the agonised state of our Senate as they watch the carnage unfold before them. Tell him that any ships he can spare will mean much to them. It is only a gesture, no more. He is not to risk the outcome of the battle. But there will be ships that can no longer fight even though their captains and crews would still be willing. Memnon will know these ships, and he will know that his orders may save those who can still be saved. Open a portal, speak with him.”
Hephaestus bowed and backed away.
Memnon couldn’t believe his ears.
“Hephaestus wants to speak with me now?” he yelled at Telephus in disbelief.
All around him men worked frantically at their consoles, while others ran to them bringing reports from damage teams, while still more ran off the bridge taking new orders with them.
“Yes!” Telephus replied. “He is at the portal now, Captain! It is an urgent request!”
Memnon looked at the viewing screen where a sea of spinning wrecks and fragments flew at him. Everywhere there were spiralling trails of gas and glowing sparks that twinkled and faded. He rubbed his face and turned back to Telephus.
“How long until the next intersection?”
“Six, seven minutes!” came the hurried reply.
Memnon bounded from his chair. “You have control! See that we all still live when I return! Antilochus! Keep that turn tight!”
Memnon ran from the bridge of the Kraken, leaving an anxious Telephus with the responsibility for the battle. It was not a responsibility the young man cherished.
In the communications room, Memnon found Hephaestus standing on the stone circle bathed in bright sunlight. Even as Hephaestus bowed in greeting, Memnon yelled at him.
“Why now, Hephaestus? Why now?”
Hephaestus straightened up and came to the point.
“The Klysanthian Second and Ninth Fleets are no more. The Keruh forces they opposed are also broken.”
“What?” Memnon had gone from annoyed disbelief to outright incredulity. “How can this have happened?”
“They gave up their lives, striking the Keruh vessels directly. Very few on either side have survived. It is an outcome we had not anticipated, and we must compensate for their loss. Fighting continues sporadically, but with little result. On Eden itself, the Androktones will soon come under fire from Edenite ships the Keruh have captured. Ares requests that you make ships available to aid and rally the Klysanthians. They are to clear the skies above Eden and be ready to give support to the Androktones once they have control of the Defence Net. It is now imperative that the Net be opened. He also requests that you despatch some ships home to aid in the evacuation of Atlantis.”
Memnon staggered back now completely confused. “Give support? Despatch ships? Evacuation?” he repeated in amazement. “Ha! What does Ares think we do here? Do we take part in a gentle cruise? Is he mad? And why evacuate Atlantis?”
Hephaestus answered his questions calmly and precisely.
“There is reason behind his requests, Memnon. Firstly, the evacuation of Atlantis is an act of expediency in case any of the Keruh vessels should survive and come here with revenge in their hearts. Secondly, the whole of the Senate watches the battle unfold within the great hall. President Aegina’s heart is strong, and as long as she stands fast, all will stand beside her. But even her heart cannot take the losses that she sees. With each intersection her resolve is visibly weakened. The return of only a few ships now will ease her burden.”
Memnon’s shoulders fell. He shook his head and looked down at the deck. And his voice was edged with fatigue when he replied.
“I understand, Hephaestus. But it is much harder for me here than it is for the President in Metropolis. I have to continue with this battle until the Keruh are broken. I can hardly spare any ships for Eden, let alone the eight day journey back home.”
“Ares suggests that you send home only those ships that can no longer fight. He suggests that their return would ease the burden on the hearts of both you and the Senate. Even one ship would make a difference.”
Memnon looked up and nodded. “Alright, I will do what I can. I will speak with you again when I have more time.”
Hephaestus bowed, and his image faded.
Memnon ran back to the bridge. As soon as he entered he shouted at Telephus.
“How long to the next intersection?”
Telephus looked up, startled. “Err, three minutes!”
“Good! Contact your brother! Have him proceed to Eden with haste and give support to the Klysanthians! Tell him the battle is already over! Tell him to rally the Klysanthians that survive! Warn him that many have sought their own deaths, hurling themselves at the Keruh! He is to lead them as best he can! They are to be his flotilla! He must clear the Keruh from the area and await the opening of the Defence Net!”
“But the Prometheus still has communication problems, her course still erratic—”
“I don’t care how you do it, Telephus! Open a portal! Send a carrier pigeon with a breathing apparatus! Just do it!”
“Yes, Captain!”
Telephus worked briefly at his console before jumping up and running to the communications room.
Memnon didn’t notice him leave. He was staring at the viewing screen, switching to different views, watching the surviving ships of his fleet complete the turn that would lead to the next intersection. Hardly any were undamaged now. The Pegasus streamed white gas and sparks from three deep ruptures in her hull. Inside the torn metal could be seen several decks, the compartments, walls and floors all ripped out. She made the turn slower than all the others, falling back all the time. One of her engines ailed and she would not survive the next intersection.
Memnon switched to another view. More ships appeared, picking their way through the deb
ris and fragments. Another ship stood out. The Leviathan also spilled gas and debris, her fin now broken completely away. A huge hole was rent right through her hull from underside to top. Fires still burned and sparked within. She wasn’t even making the turn. She fell out of line as he watched, moving under another Atlantian vessel that forged ahead with greater power. She would be another willing victim of the Keruh, unless she rammed one of them head on. It was a choice he could now take away from her captain.
He switched views once more, and another damaged ship caught his eye, and this time he smiled.
Peleus was surprised by the news that the portal had come on line. He hurried to the engine room. The corridors on the way were filled with debris. Ceiling tiles, wall panels, lights, everything was broken and hanging loose. Men hurried back and forth, dodging passed those making repairs. The light was dim, emergency lights bathing those who worked and ran in a red glow. Inside the engine room the scene was much worse. Equipment and machinery lay everywhere, men ran about, and the sound of machine tools buzzed in the air. Aeolus was on the floor, his legs sticking out of one of the engine compartments. Other men were piled in around him. He was shouting like usual.
“Drill the bolts out! And mind that control line! Tyro, hook up that emulator! See if you can bypass the port engine fuel input processor!”
Tyro backed out of the compartment and pounced on a large piece of electronic test equipment nearby. Peleus instantly dived into the compartment in his place.
“Aeolus! The portal is on line! Telephus needs to speak with you!”
Aeolus wasn’t impressed. “Has he got a replacement engine management system with him?”
“No.”
“Then you speak with him! Tyro! Where’s that emulator?”
Peleus backed out of the compartment and let Tyro back in. He ran out of the engine room and back to the communications room. Inside, Telephus was waiting patiently at the portal.
“I’m sorry, Telephus!” Peleus said breathlessly. “My Captain aids in repairs. He commands that I take your message in his place.”
Telephus smiled. “Is my brother well?”
“Yes, he is well. Dirty, but well.”
“Then I am content with this. But I see that you have also shared in his toil.”
Peleus looked down at his clothes. “We all aid in the repairs. It is expedient.”
Telephus nodded. “So are Memnon’s commands. You are ordered to take command of the surviving ships of the Klysanthian fleets at Eden.”
Peleus looked surprised. “Surviving ships?”
“Yes. The Klysanthians approached the battle with fatalistic intent. Hephaestus has informed us that they collided head on with the Keruh. Both forces are smashed and the Klysanthians are now without direction. You will provide that direction. Aeolus is to consider all the Klysanthian ships at Eden to be his to command. You are to give covering fire to the Androktones on Eden once the Defence Net is under their control. Until then you must clear the skies above Eden of any Keruh vessels that have survived. It is certain that the Androktones will only open the Net when you have achieved this. Do you understand, Peleus?”
Peleus nodded.
“And you can fulfil these orders?”
Peleus nodded again. “Yes. We have regained steering control and all other repairs are underway. The Prometheus is structurally intact. We can fight, and we can lead.”
“Then that is all we can ask of you. Farewell, Peleus.”
“And you also.”
Telephus leaned forward and then paused. “Give my love to my brother. Tell him...Tell him I am thinking of him.”
Peleus opened his mouth to utter a question, but the connection was cut and the image of Telephus quickly faded.
When Telephus returned, Memnon had already made up his mind, and he spoke up as soon as his First Officer entered. It was the first time he spoke calmly on the bridge since the battle had begun.
“Did you get through to the Prometheus?”
“Yes, Captain,” Telephus replied as he made his way to his control console. “I spoke with Peleus. They have regained steering control and are making repairs. They will continue on to Eden as you have ordered.”
“Good. Now contact the Pegasus and Leviathan. Have them break formation and return to Atlantis. Our home is being evacuated, and the Senate requests that we lend support in our skies above them.”
All eyes on the bridge turned to him. There was a hushed silence, and Telephus hesitated as he was about to drop down into his chair.
“But they’re both heavily damaged, Captain,” he said in surprise, finally sitting down. “They couldn’t survive the journey home on their own.”
“No. So send the Olympus with them. She may be damaged but she still has power and the urge to fight. Let Zeus exercise that power in the defence of our people and in support of his ailing colleagues. Warn him that if he disobeys me I will order the fleet to fire on him.”
Telephus nodded and turned to his console. “Yes, Captain.”
Memnon stared at the viewing screen. The turn was now complete and the remaining ships of the Keruh Fleet rushed toward him. He kept his eyes on the leading ships as he spoke once more.
“Now, Antilochus, pick me out another ship to kill. Send our fin through her heart, and spill her life into the dark.”
The two fleets rushed together, their maser cannons once again reaching out with white beams to strike death at one another. Again they clashed and flew apart. Again the wrecks spun away in fire and fragments. But this time there was a difference. This time the Keruh vessels didn’t begin the next turn.
The Friendly Ambassador: The Beginning of the End Page 18