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“No more are coming,” the Prophet declared. “All are dead, or slaves and the ships destroyed. Yahweh has spoken to me.”
“What is the status of the Red base?” Aramis asked his voice bitter in defeat.
“No visible signs except for the trench. I inspected it myself for debris. The plasma lance wiped it clean.”
“We are done here too. The deep base has been stripped clean and we are ready for you to lance the surface installations and docks.”
“The deep base is in vacuum?” the Prophet inquired.
“Yes, we are ready. Everything is aboard ship. I and my family will be the last,” Aramis responded.
A little girl walked up to them crying, “Pappa, I can’t find Twitches.”
“My dearest, we can delay no more. If Twitches wanted to be found, he would be. A cat loves its territory more than its people. We will find you another cat on Earth.”
“But Pappa...”
“Ruth please take your daughter aboard,” Aramis asked his wife’s maidservant.
A short while later the transport undocked and started on the way to their new home. Most of the other survivors had already settled on islands between Greece, Egypt, and Canaan. They would be Sea People as Atlanteans had always been. Other small groups had scattered across the Earth near but not in existing civilizations.
The Prophet had demanded that technology not be used after twenty years before agreeing to the opening of Yahweh’s Portal to Earth. He alone knew the song and was alone when he sang it. Yahweh was a harsh God, but he also promised the Watchers would protect Earth from the predators who had laid them low. Mankind would one day be allowed to rise again on their own efforts.
Many spins later, the gunship piloted by the Prophet settled right behind the empty transport ship in a lava tube on Earth’s moon. With the aid of the ship’s artificial intelligence, he had remotely piloted the transport into position. He would never step foot on the Promised Land. But Yahweh would keep him company here.
