Bermuda

by Karim Soliman

  "The life capsule." Heather was like a lost wanderer who had just found a well in the desert.

  "Leaving that vehicle on the loose confirms our assumption that the Griseos are suffering a serious shortage in their power supplies," said Tolarus. "They rarely leave any abandoned vehicles since they use their metallic skeleton as spare parts."

  "What about the HG-3? I mean our main craft?" Heather asked eagerly. "We left it a few miles away from the coast."

  Tolarus shook his head. "I have no idea. We didn't inspect that far."

  She clutched the hope she saw in the horizon. She just needed a little more time to weave a well-crafted plan.

  "When will you start your march?" she asked.

  Tolarus tilted his head, an inquisitive look on his face. "Tell me: what're you planning to?"

  "I don't have a plan yet. I need to consult my teammates to devise a good one."

  30. March of the Atlanteans

  For some reason, those civilians found it hard not to stare at Tolarus while he was wearing his astronaut suit. Standing ahead of his troops at the mountain foot, the Atlantean seemed to be briefing his officers on their commands.

  "It's time for war," Heather muttered.

  "War?" Standing by her side, Powell scoffed. The scientist had no idea, he thought. "The headcount of these men is barely exceeding a hundred and fifty, and you call this war?"

  "This is a decisive battle." Heather nodded her chin toward the Atlanteans. "I believe Tolarus has summoned all who can fight for it."

  "This is going to work, right?" Daniel asked, a pale smile on his face. "Our plan, I mean. It's nearing noon, and we're marching under the clear sunlight."

  Failure was not an option. "Our plan depends on our Atlantean friends," said Powell. "The more the havoc they'll create, the better our chances to go unnoticed."

  Tolarus approached them, holding his helmet in one hand and the head device in the other.

  "Let me take it from here." Powell snatched Heather's gadget and adjusted it on his head. The leader of the scientific crew didn't seem to have any problem with that.

  "So, you're the fighter of the group." Tolarus grinned at Powell.

  Powell nodded. "I need a weapon."

  "I can spare a few soldiers to escort you."

  "Sending soldiers with us is a good idea, but I still need a weapon."

  Tolarus pulled the cylindrical weapon strapped to his belt, handed it to Powell, and pointed at a dotted part near its edge. "Press here to unleash hell at your target."

  Powell might have held baby guns in his childhood lighter than this weapon. He aimed at a rock forty feet away and destroyed it with one shot.

  Tolarus smiled. "Not bad as a start."

  Powell didn't find anything impressive about his shot. "I just wanted to get used to its feeling and weight in my hands. How do you think those aliens will react?"

  "Assuming their defenses are not fully charged yet, they will send their guards to defend the eastern warehouse we're headed to. Team beta will be bombing the signal point at the same time."

  "Are you sure of your explosives range? We have no idea how deep their headquarters is."

  "We're not going to bomb the surface. We'll use our mine drills to bury our explosives deep down their throats."

  "Good." Provided that the aliens would grant us enough time to dig that hole above their headquarters. "Such noise will cover our march to the shore."

  "Our double attack is intended to cause much more than just noise. All those soldiers you see are marching today to cleanse our island from all gray faces on it."

  The Atlantean was fearless, Powell would give him that, but his plan of attack was a bit rushed. What if Tolarus's assumptions were wrong? What if those aliens managed to charge their defenses to full power? What if those Griseos still had more tricks up their sleeves?

  "What about you?" Tolarus interrupted Powell's thoughts. "Do you know what to do when you reach your orange vehicle?"

  Powell realized that his concern about his march with Heather's team to the shore should be much more than about the Atlanteans' attack. Nobody could confirm if the HG-3 was still there in the ocean. And if it wasn't found there, nobody could ensure that the life capsule could stand the Storm Shield. The whole thing is rushed, Powell thought. But it could be their only chance to escape from this cursed island.

  "We'll take our chances," said Powell. "Just hold those gray bastards off as long as you can."

  Tolarus's answer was a confident grin. The Atlantean removed the head device and turned to his soldiers, yelling at them in Latin. Five men split off the Atlantean company and strode to Tolarus, who spoke to them for a while before he put on the head device again and addressed Powell, "These men will escort you to the shore, just in case you face any trouble."

  Powell hoped he wouldn't need those Atlanteans, but he was grateful to Tolarus anyway.

  "I'll let you keep your head gadget, but after you pass it to Heather," Tolarus said. "There's something I want to tell her."

  * * *

  Akmenios glanced at the sleeping Burke, who was tied once again to the metallic chair. He had asked Cudelios to make sure the hominum was well tied this time so that nothing would distract them for the time being. Yesterday's incident needed an explanation.

  There was something wrong about the last mind-connecting session. All Cudelios had told him that there was an almost successful attempt to breach his mind. Almost? Akmenios was unable to prove it. For some reason, he could not recall anything about that session. He could only wish that Cudelios had been right.

  What about Burke, the hominum? Akmenios had scanned his mind and found nothing useful. He is not just useless. The fool was about to summon all the Shomrunks in this universe and bring them to Earth. Had it not been for Akmenios, the hominum would have finished the Shomrunk's work.

  But what about Akmenios himself? The recordings showed him untying Burke from his seat before leaving him in the room on his own. Was the Shomrunk messing with Akmenios too? What about Cudelios? Had the Shomrunk been controlling him as well?

  "Are you done yet?" Akmenios asked his subordinate, who was busy with the mind device.

  "Not even close. You have to bear in mind this is the first time we do something like this."

  "I wonder why we have never tried this before."

  "There was no need to visualize thoughts because simply, every time you were supposed to see them."

  Cudelios had spent the whole night working on the mind device, trying to extract any memories recorded in the form of waves and convert them to a visual format. Akmenios was not sure how much visual Burke's memories could become.

  "I have found a peculiar spike in energy levels in the second half of that session," Cudelios stated. "A spike that was concurrent with your mind breach attempt."

  Akmenios pondered what he had just heard. A spike in energy level during a mind-connecting session was something he should worry about. "I remember, from our long experience with human brains, they are not able to produce such energy levels," he said.

  "You're talking about normal brains, not this one."

  Cudelios was right. The link between Burke and the Shomrunk was still unclear, but its existence was undeniable. It was not a coincidence he could see the Shomrunk's actions with Burke's presence.

  "We must know what happened in that session." Akmenios held Cudelios's arm. "I see the Shomrunk's tracks and I can tell he's messing with us."

  Cudelios gazed at Burke for a while before he said, "Keeping this hominum here is not a good idea anymore."

  Akmenios could not agree more. With the confirmed link between the human and the Shomrunk, Burke's presence became threatening.

  "Do we still need anything from his mind right now?" Akmenios asked.

  "We have extracted all the memories we need," Cudelios replied. "If I understand you right, I can send him now."

  It was inevitable. One day, Burke would have the same final destination of all the
humans captured in Bermuda: the bio-energy processing room.

  For one last time, Akmenios pondered all possible pros and cons of keeping Burke. He tried everything he could to explore this human mind, but he never found anything decisive about the Shomrunk. On the other hand, he had his concerns that Burke might have become a backdoor for the Shomrunk. And that left him one last way to get any use of this human.

  "So be it," said Akmenios. "Take him out of here."

  Cudelios peered at the yellow flashing screen when the notification came. An urgent message from the eastern warehouse.

  "What is it?" Akmenios wondered.

  "Homines," his subordinate replied. "Around fifty of them."

  "Fifty?" A human raid was the last thing Akmenios expected. Yesterday's bombardment should have crushed those Atlanteans. The missiles attack was intended to weaken their forces in the first place, but here they were; the Atlanteans were marching with their biggest force he had ever encountered in this island. In all previous raids, he had never faced more than twenty homines.

  "How close are they?" Akmenios asked.

  "Fifteen minutes."

  "They're so close indeed. How didn't we notice them earlier? What happened to our outposts?"

  Cudelios looked his boss straight in the eye without saying a word.

  "What?" Akmenios asked.

  "We're switching our outposts on and off because we're running low on power. Our reactors are still recovering from yesterday's assault."

  His subordinate was blaming him. It was Akmenios who had insisted on making that attack despite his assistant's warning. But who would see that coming? And that soon?

  "So, they think they have seen all we got," said Akmenios.

  "No, Akmenios. You will not fire the proton cannon."

  "Yes, I will. We have no other way. Otherwise, we're simply surrendering our last main warehouse."

  "This procedure may shut all our systems down."

  "We can make a shunt from the main western reactor."

  "This is not an option, Akmenios. You know very well the main reactor is only to keep the Domus Shield working. We won't risk exposing what we have been hiding for more than a hundred years."

  Akmenios knew it was a desperate measure. The main western reactor was dedicated to power their servers, which had been working for many decades to prevent their island location from being detected by the outer world. Powered by the same reactor was the Storm Shield that captured all intruding flying or floating objects. Akmenios had been the one insisting on constructing that reactor as a standalone one to prevent any overlap between it and the rest of the power reactors. He never thought he would regret this decision one day.

  "So, what are our alternatives? Do we have enough guards to stop such an attack?" Akmenios wondered.

  "It won't be easy without the missiles system, but we have to take our chances."

  "Our chances? Do you have any idea about the consequences of losing that site? The balance of power will be in their favor, and soon they will be besieging us."

  "We can't risk shutting down our systems, Akmenios. This may mean our doom for good."

  "This is correct, provided that those homines know our location."

  "And are you sure they don't? Don't forget those scientists who joined the Atlanteans. They may have found a clue about our headquarters."

  "No way. They may be killed in yesterday's attack even."

  "And they may be not. We can't—"

  Cudelios was interrupted again, but this time by another yellow flash on the screen.

  "What's going on?" Akmenios gazed at the screen. This time, the notification came from the headquarters itself.

  Cudelios swiped the screen. "One hundred homines are approaching our headquarters."

  The number was shocking, and Akmenios was not prepared for this nightmare. The probability of humans attacking their headquarters was never considered. "Underground?" Akmenios wanted to make sure.

  "No. They are marching on the surface, yet their direction doesn't look promising."

  Again, Cudelios was right. Those Atlanteans were up to something big with this double attack.

  "We're running out of time, Akmenios. We have to act now," Cudelios urged him.

  Nine minutes remained for the Atlanteans to reach the warehouse. At this very moment, Akmenios had to make his decision.

  "The warehouse guards must hinder the Atlantean march outside the warehouse itself. We have to win as much time as we can to see what the second attack is up to. And that's before using the proton cannons."

  "With our current power levels, we have three proton shots at the most. Not sure, if they are enough to defeat all these troops."

  Three shots would be enough to roast those hundred Atlanteans. But what about the other fifty at the warehouse?

  "This is it," Akmenios said. "Crush those fifty with one shot, and let our guards finish their remnants off—if any remained. Keep the two remaining shots for their main attacking force."

  "What about this hominum?" Cudelios pointed at Burke.

  "Send him to the reactor." With his eyes, Akmenios followed the two moving yellow masses on the screen. Both of them were approaching their destinations. "And bring us weapons. Every one of us must be ready to fight today."

  31. Farewell, Burke

  Today, the Atlanteans had nothing to lose.

  Hidden in the woods, Tolarus led a hundred men marching toward the Griseos' headquarters, followed by the mine drills they brought with them. According to his estimates, his other distracting forces at the warehouse would be engaging the Griseos in a few minutes. Still, twenty minutes remained for him to reach his destination with his men.

  As he expected, he didn't encounter any opposition so far. Hope shone from his men's eyes as they approached their target location. Tolarus was not sure whether the Griseos had spotted their march or not, but even if they did, it seemed their defenses were down. He wished he could know what his men at the warehouse were doing at this moment, yet his orders were strict about cutting all communications between the two forces to avoid exposing their plans to the Griseos. It will be our day today, Tolarus believed. He would defeat those aliens once and for all, and avenge the relatives and friends he and his people had lost in yesterday's brutal bombardment.

  With a hand gesture, he stopped his men when his ears caught a low humming sound. Ahead of him by fifty yards, a huge column was rising slowly from the ground.

  This doesn't look promising, he thought when the column glowed. "Spread out," he urged the men lined up behind him.

  But he was too late. The glowing column shone like a small sun.

  "Duck!" Tolarus hollered. It was difficult for him to tell what happened, but he found himself thrown away by a massive explosion before he hit the ground like a stone. The suit he wore was supposed to protect his body, yet his back was blasted by unbearable heat. What was that? Tolarus did not spy any missiles or rays coming. Only the glowing column was what he saw, and then boom! Hell opened its gates at the very spot on which his men were standing.

  Tolarus hardly raised his head to check on his troops. Half of his men were burnt by the explosion. "Spread out, I say!" he hollered. "Take the drills away from here!"

  He gazed at the column that glowed one more time. "No! Not again! Take cover!" Instantaneously, he realized the absurdity of his warning to his soldiers. How could they evade what they couldn't see?

  A second explosion blew most of the remaining men. The Atlanteans' terrain was turned into a gigantic furnace. With a torn heart and a shocked mind, Tolarus watched what was, probably, the last shield for his people burn into ashes in just a few seconds. His men did not have a chance to fire even a single shot at their enemies.

  That cursed pillar. Lying on the ground, Tolarus pulled himself together, drew the arm cannon strapped to his back, and aimed. With a single missile, the deadly column was destroyed.

  "You!" Tolarus yelled at five surviving cannoneers running away from
the site of the massacre. "Halt!" Nobody stopped, though. Either they didn't hear his shout, or they just decided to ignore him. Tolarus rose to his feet and sprinted after those escapees. "I didn't give you the order to retreat!"

  Only one soldier turned to Tolarus. "It's over! Everything is over!"

  "We won't abandon the battlefield like cowards!" Tolarus roared. He drew his cylindrical gun and shot just behind the other four runaways to draw their attention. They froze in place and turned slowly to face Tolarus.

  "Have you lost your mind?" the same soldier chided. "What battlefield are you talking about? There is no battle here. We're just slaughtered."

  Tolarus hurried to the soldier and pulled him by his torn suit. "It's not over yet. We won't leave until we dig with the cursed drills and implant the cursed explosives. This is what we came for."

  The soldier shoved Tolarus. "You're insane. Look around. Everything is blown up. Even our explosives. Our men were roasted by our own explosives."

  Maybe Tolarus should calm down and listen to him. He tried to scan the burnt terrain, but it was not easy at all to look at the charred corpses of his men. Nausea overwhelmed him and he hardly kept himself from throwing up in front of his remaining cannoneers.

  "There!" Tolarus strode to what seemed to be the last hope. One mine drill machine standing upright. Miraculously, it was still intact.

  Tolarus fidgeted when he checked the machine. Yes! It was still working. He glanced at his remaining men, who stared at him as if they were watching a lunatic.

  "I'll drive this drill onward myself," Tolarus addressed his men.

  "This is not going to work." One of the cannoneers shook his head. "What if we encounter another death column?"

  "If they had more, then they should have blown us up," Tolarus snapped. "We're so close to our target destination."

  "What about the explosives? We don't have any."

  "We'll use our cannons instead." Tolarus started moving the drill machine. "Come on!"

  * * *