Chapter Two --THE ANCIENT ONES

 

 

The platinum ring of immortals crowned Arius’ tossed blond locks, emanating lost tradition. The young Lawgiver standing on the massive steps of Atlantius Council Hall was mortal, and at times proudly bore this eternal symbol, appareled in its power.  The ritual ring of enlightenment was graced with the Imperial Emblem, a trident with four orbiting stars.  The slender circle signified all the authority born by Arius’s ancestors back to the beginning of the beginning.

The six-story quartz and gypsum palace he faced embodied authority. It was topped with mountainous crystal collectors that channeled solar energy to heat and illuminate its cavernous interior. Studded with refractory lens windows and energy conduits trimmed with gold, the grandeur of Council Hall usually toyed with Arius’ self-confidence.  Today, however, he sensed something was catastrophically wrong, something more tangible than the iridescent fluctuations of the architecture. Six feet tall, robust, athletic, and as strong a warrior as a politician, Arius, at times was easily unsettled. Unknown to Arius, it was a fault well known around the kingdom.

The morning sun distorted, crowning gold and bruised purple. Breaking the curve of the horizon, it looked as if a giant-toothed Smilodon had ripped a bite from it.  The crystal collectors on the rounded spires of the Capitol were normally brilliant, casting true red, yellow, and blue outward in clear rainbow swirls. Today it threw out a light that was shadowy and uneven.

The dull refraction made Arius remember the storm two nights ago. His mind sought safety in formulating a scientific explanation for the unusual light. Perhaps quantum energy conductors have storage limits and are overloaded from the storm.

He pulled his sleeveless red vest, with its embroidered back and pocketed front, tighter on his rugged physique. He shuddered.  Although it was summer, it was an unseasonably cold fifty degrees, cool even for sea-touched Atlantius. It was far too chill for his usually comfortable jerkin and spun synthetic black pants.  The hair prickling on his chest and arms told him plainly that the Bio-climatic controls needed adjustment.  With unfathomable concern in his aquamarine eyes, Arius turned his handsome, square-jawed face to the business that had called him from his usual haunts in the Judicial sector.

As he entered the foyer of the Administrations Building, a labyrinth of golden corridors and silver stairs rose to greet him. Their glittering glow bewildered newcomers, but comforted Arius. Oddly, today their glow seemed to have a greenish tinge. That particular shade evoked a picture from his past.  A frozen still frame in Ari’s mind unraveled. In a simpler time, his friends Yu and Face had gone with him for a university research project to the North Continent. Pangaea biology still fascinated him. Lost in drifting memories Ari felt himself sail again in a three-seated silver anti-gravity craft over ancient forests, past protective energy fields, foliage flickering in winded waves beneath him. The image of wavering leaves became one of tossing seas that broke on the shore of a body of a baby whale. Sailing further inland, we were drawn by something sinister. Landing the craft, we walked, the surrounding fronds had dried blood. The sweet smell of ferns vanished, overwhelmed by the rotting stench of a too fertile low tide. There in the wilds of the forest, miles inland, we stumbled across the severed mutilated head of a baby whale.

Ari couldn’t shake off the gruesome memory of split ripe flesh rotting in the sun. As he turned his low-topped, heeled boots left and up the first level of quartz-inlaid stairs, he traced back the thought. The faint metallic scent of the building’s structure was salty like the smell from Atlantian space ships dark matter drives. The sent flowed through his mind, salty like the brine drying into a crystalline crust in the cavity where the whale’s brain once grew.

At the top, he emerged into a bright spacious hall, teeming with Scholars, Planners, Providers, Lawmakers, Protectors, Builders, and Amatures. Weighty doors opened and closed, their thuds muffled by the steady shuffle and drone of the busy corridor. In them Ari still heard the long ago rush of the sea and the mystifying cry of a cetacean calf.

The young Lawmaker shook off the haunting shadow and moved to the largest doors. Pushing through the stately bronze slabs, he unceremoniously entered the inner sanctum of the Supreme Magistrate of Atlantis.

An attractive middle-aged receptionist wore the common female Atlantian work colors, a rose-colored, high collared jacket over a white shirt and gray slacks. She came quickly from behind her static-charged metallurgic desk, smiling warmly. As she moved, the desk changed from faint red to soft yellow. When she returned, her body heat would again transform this Atlantian marvel so that it comforted her, matching her body heat and assuring a perfect and productive work environment.

“He’s expecting me,” Arius said flatly.

“I know.  Please go right in.” She waved him toward the inner brass doors, absently adjusting her scarf.

To Arius, the doors loomed large, a stinging barrier between worlds. The walls were marble, tungsten, and nickel, the windowsill’s gold leaf and electrum, the floor crafted of priceless mosaic tiles. Within this museum of power, four-dimensional tapestries and statues formed by interplanetary hands could be viewed on four sides at once. These stood alongside priceless brushless paintings by masters. These treasures surrounded a sagging desk that had seen a thousand years service in a thousand secret meetings.

Arius greeted the sage man standing before this symbolic, workmanlike artifact. This entire splendor belonged to Nor, the Supreme Magistrate of the Continent of Atlantis. 

Ari nodded only slightly in greeting. “Good afternoon, Father.”

Nor bore his three hundred years almost as well as the ancient tapestries near him. He was equally well crafted, with hawkish features set above a triangular white beard and long ear lobes. His sea-blue eyes retained the fire of youth. Tough old muscles still flowed easily beneath his intricately embroidered golden robes of office.

Although Arius had not seen his father for several weeks, he resisted the urge to embrace him or even shake hands. Nor was a fine man, one of the most brilliant administrators Atlantis had ever seen, but he was a reserved person who held warmth in low regard. That trait was questioned, if not discarded, by his son.

The coin of Nor’s fortune was respect, not adoration. His stature in Atlantis demanded nothing less. Despite his reserve, behind the wizened lines crisscrossing his ancient face, an unmistakable light of pride in his son glowed. Just now, it was shadowed by doubt and worry.

Nor argued silently. A Father should have faith in his child.

When he spoke aloud, his voice was deep and smooth, reflecting years of political polish. “Have a seat Arius.”

Arius did not speak. 

Nor’s internal soliloquy continued uninterrupted. Why do I hesitate? Do I doubt my son? Was there not a time when I too stood untried? So long ago, almost beyond remembrance.

With a calm belying its significance, Nor said, “I have summoned Yutana. She should be here soon.”

Arius sat silent, straight-backed in a hard sorapus chair, its legs carved to resemble amphibian legs. His posture attentive, he speculated silently. Yutana! Then a task brings me here. One important enough that Father questions my ability to handle it alone.

Despite his perceptive thoughts, Arius only said, “I shall enjoy seeing my friend again.”

Arius had never liked his father’s office. Though appreciative of the elaborate decorative art adorning the blue-gray metallic walls, the austerity of its furniture made him feel unwelcome.

Something forced him to look at a round cabinet. It was made of impregnable dendritic glass, six feet high. It stood alone against the right wall, opposite Arius. It housed the Trident Spear, a rhodium staff topped with orbiting stars, four in number. This symbol of Atlantian leadership was the same emblem he wore on the platinum ring atop his streaming blond locks. The Staff of Ages was a symbol of deeds, expertise and trust. Arius admired it and its magnitude. Many would covet the staff for their own power. Ari was not among them.

The receptionist poked her head in the door unexpectedly. “Tea?”

Nor looked up and absently nodded. The woman smiled again and disappeared.

Arius was curious about why he was summoned, but remained subdued. “You know, Father, I’ve been coming to this office since I was a child and you’ve never introduced me to your aide. I don’t even know her name.”

Nor looked momentarily perplexed, as startled by Arius’ tone of familiarity as his statement. “Ariana. Her name is Ariana. I thought you knew.”

“We’ve never been formally introduced.”

When she returned and served tea, Nor’s words were pointed. “Thank you, Ariana. You know my son -- Arius?”

“Of course,” she responded pleasantly. “Always a pleasure to have you visit us.”

Arius noticed the happiness that Nor’s simple kindness elicited. Was Ariana easily pleased? Or was this pleasantry so great a departure from Nor’s normal surliness?

Ariana smiled again, carefully setting the electrum silver teapot and service on the edge of Nor’s massive desk. She unobtrusively withdrew.

Afternoon tea was a social and scientific anomaly in Atlantis. Atlantians could get three days’ nourishment from a single genetically produced wafer. This economical product saved the energies wasted buying, preparing, eliminating, and serving food.  It also eliminated a vital part of any culture -- gossip. A ceremonial afternoon tea had evolved to provide the socializing that technology displaced.

Atlantian teas required a physiological adjustment that was also something of a phenomenon. Modern Atlantians needed no internal organs to digest food or dispel wastes. Ten thousand years of DNA engineering disposed of those needs. To permit the social function of tea, Atlantians ingested duodenal and pancreatic enzymes as palatable wafers which permitted the absorption of liquids into their systems and elimination of them through the skin. This process also aided regulation of the Atlantian’s circulatory system. It never flushed!

Arius sipped his tea and observed Nor. The white-haired man was deep in thought, ignoring his untouched cup and his son.

Ardiana appeared in the doorway. She disrupted the awkward silence in the cavernous office with an announcement. “Yutana is here.”

“Yu!” Arius cried, rising, reaching, and touching nose to nose in the traditional Atlantian greeting.

Yu stepped back, a smile on her distinctively Yutan face.

Their friendship was a union of the two primary and historically conflicting races of Atlantian society. Nor and Arius were of the Leader class. Two hundred millennia of DNA manipulation had given Atlantis a breed of people born to lead, embodied with intelligence, integrity, and prudence. Similarly DNA enriched, but purposefully divergent from the Atlantians, Yu was descended from Yutans.

Over many centuries, Yutans had developed a measure of social arrogance that kept them at odds with the Atlantians. Many ancient and bloody battles resulted. The Yutans squandered resources and stumbled to the verge of extinction. The Yutans were more sensual than Atlantians, addicted to the flesh. In the name of progress, they misused the environment in ways wanton and perverse. Nature was revolted and struck back, converting their excesses into DNA-altering poisons. Self-generated social disorders caused their DNA to mutate. Their own cells ate away their bodies and brains.  These illnesses defied all cures. Their culture collapsed under its own weight.  On the precipice of social extinction, they united with the Atlantians. Infused by them with a panacea of healthy DNA, they survived and chose the path of peace. The wars ameliorated, conflicts ebbed.

The Yutans were an indebted and repentant minority. They became dedicated Protectors of Atlantian society, mentally commanding metaphysically derived defensive weapons. They channeled their legacy of irresponsible waste into actions serving the greater good.

Physically the Yutans remained a species apart. Their thick veins and baldheads were notably larger and more angular than the average Atlantian’s. More than these physical differences differentiated Yu and Ari. Although Yu was dressed similarly to Arius in a red vest and black pants, she wore distinctive Yutan headgear, a slim metal skullcap with embedded probes linked to her mind. The link fed on her electromagnetic brain waves. Channeled by the headgear, they generated an invisible protective force field. Yutans could stretch it symmetrically during emergencies to create a protective barrier. As a power generated by their brain, the field was susceptible to the vagaries and frailties to which the indulgent Yutans’ flesh was heir.

The Administrator focused on Yu, but addressed his son. “Arius, I’ve sent you on missions before. Some were political, some more physically perilous. You have bravely faced dangers among primitives and in beast-infested jungles beyond our protective barriers. But this mission is unlike anything you’ve ever undertaken.”

The friends exchanged knowing glances. A joint summons to Nor’s office portended a crisis.

The Supreme Magistrate finally got to the point. “There have been disturbing reports of missing citizens to the north in Yutanius.”

“Yutanius!” exclaimed Yu, at the mention of her home. “Have the local authorities investigated?”

“Yes, without resolution.” Nor toyed with the gold-encased Dimensional Crystal on his desk. Then abruptly, the Administrator’s head snapped up. It was time to commit to his chosen action. “Remember your sacred oath as Protector. This information is confidential. Arius, as my son and potential heir to the Atlantian leadership, you are entitled to know it. Yutana, you will assume the role of my son’s partner on this mission. I grant you Arbor status.”

Nor switched on his vid-com. It blinked, searching the routes he entered. A long, scrolling document appeared in thin air. The multilayered holographic pages were in three-dimensions with colorful framed key images that fluttered off the screen. Nor entered a communications chip into the proper port on the silver base and elevated Yu’s political status.

The two young warriors were caged in suspense. Nor’s words were succinct. “The Ancient Ones have returned!”

Arius struggled to find a response. Yutana, wide eyes wider, just sat there as well. Her thought vein pulsed wildly across her angled cranium.

Nor waved a hand at the darkened vid-com base, “The local Protectors suspect the Ancient Ones of abducting our people and engaging in illegal DNA extraction.”

“If true, that’s a blatant violation of the chromosatic Agreement.” Lawmaker Arius reacted viscerally. “They have become the malignant face of evil.”

Nor hardened with restraint.  “I believe it is true. But I am not the entire Council.”

Yutana caught Arius’ eye. Nor had stepped out of character by making a confession of the heart. Arius gave no indication he had noticed. Yu knew better than to call Nor’s attention to the personal glimpse he had allowed of himself.

As the weight of office descended most heavily on Nor’s shoulders, he suddenly seemed even taller than his six-foot height. It was as if he grew up against the burden, rather than being pressed down by it. Even his shadow lengthened. 

Nor used his well-exercised strengths to explain. “We’ve always traded DNA from our flora and fauna with the Ancient Ones, but never, ever, from an anthropomorphic Atlantian. You do not know why that is forbidden. But, time has come.”

Arius edged forward in his seat, his brows furrowed. He knew the law and often wondered about its rationale. He listened attentively, as Nor continued.

“For countless centuries, Star Traders of the Ancient Clans visited our galaxy and helped the citizens of Atlantis. By exchanging technology and DNA, both sides have prospered. Without them we would not have the iridium crystals that power our astral ships. We owe much to them.”

“Just how much?” Arius asked tensely, sensing something beneath his Father’s words.

“Enough that the Council feels we have a moral obligation to prove their complicity in these abductions before voicing any suspicions. The Council does not dare investigate openly for fear of alienating the Ancient Ones in our time of need.”

As he watched, Nor pace out his primal rage, Arius knew his father was heavily burdened. Feeling the challenge, his heart thrilled, but his mind chilled to some unearthly breeze so violent that it shook even Nor.

Nor froze. “What I tell you now must go no farther than these four walls.”

The young friends nodded fervently.

Nor accepted their silent assurance. “As surely as the ocean roars and the sun burns, Atlantis is doomed.”

Arius and Yutana catapulted from their seats as one. Nor stemmed their flood of questions, waving them silent. “The Ancient Ones aren’t the threat. They even warned us. But their past tampering made the Council doubt their warning. Our own astronomers completely missed it.”

“Missed what?” Arius cried, crushed by the sudden impact of the unknown.

“A monumental asteroid, a paving-stone from another galaxy, has broken loose and is running wild. This magnetic iron cored monster is so devastating that inhabited planets that narrowly escaped it in eons past named it the Dark Heart of Creation. This gargantuan asteroid is headed directly for us. The Council celestials theorize a planetary remnant collided with other planetary bodies, fusing, doubling, and perhaps tripling it in sizes. This is a super-dense magnetic monster.”

Nor entered another chip into the silver base of the vid-Com, the information appeared next to Ari and Yu. Nor explained, “It has a density approximated at fourteen gm/cm to the third power. This geological mix with vast veins of nickel and iron, hurtles quickly through space ripping electromagnetic bodies apart, that includes most habitable bodies in our solar system.”

Nor continued grimly. “We now know it will bounce off our atmosphere. The collision will send shards ripping into our as well as other planets. The damage will be irreparable, an extinction level event. Our continent will evaporate first, then our world then the other planets.”

“Absolute annihilation.” Arius drew himself tall. “How long do we have?”

“Two weeks, no more. They predict it will hit Atlantis at the second cycle of K’altun, it could be sooner! Be on your guard!”

“Your plan, Father?”

Nor smiled at Arius’s awareness. Final decisions always clearly fell squarely on the time-tested shoulders of the Supreme Magistrate.

Nor slipped into his role as mentor. “If one day, as I hope, you succeed me as Leader, what would you propose?”

“You mentioned the Astral Ships. Obviously you plan a mass exodus. Is there’s no other way? If we can curve space within our astral made singularities, then why can’t we protect Atlantis from the Dark Heart of Creation? Do we have the capacity?”

Nor did not hesitate, “No, we don’t have the capacity or enough ships! We do have a plan for a mass exodus. But only if the Ancient Ones help as promised.”

“And if we find they have broken the Agreement?”

“A moral decision faces the Counsel unlike any in Atlantian history! But that is my dilemma. Yours is to get evidence for an intelligent case.”

Arius nodded, strangely calm. “How much do the citizens know?”

“Nothing. Panic is no ally.”

Arius nodded. “If the Ancient Ones will help us, why do you believe they violated the Chromosatic Agreement?”

Nor focused on Yu. “What do you think, Yutana?”

Yu’s lips pursed. She knew the answer the moment Nor revealed the depth of the danger threatening his world. Finding words, however, proved difficult. “It’s the worst kept secret in Atlantis,” she said slowly, warm brown eyes rising to meet Nor’s steady gaze. “Yes, Supreme Magistrate, we Guardians know the truth. Know, but keep silent.”

Arius turned to his friend with a puzzled frown. “What truth, Yu? What secret?”

“The truth behind the Chromosatic Agreement, at least most of it. The Ancient Ones differ from us in more than appearance. The Star Traders’ uniqueness lies in their DNA, eighty-three chromosomes pairs to our eighty-one matched pairs and one unmatched strand, which neither migrates nor divides.”

Arius listened, impressed, but wondering where Yu was leading. “And so?”

“That random chromosome leaves the Ancient Ones susceptible to genetic deformities. They can only control that problem with energy extraction and artificial mitosis of compatible DNA threads. Without the balancing DNA they distill from our fauna, in time their race would go mad. Animal DNA is not a perfect match. It won’t cure the Ancient One’s inherent ills. They synthesize structures to control the disfigurements, but cannot prevent transferring the malignant gene.”

“It’s a lethal deformity?” Arius asked.

Nor didn’t nod or smile. He didn’t have to; his eyes answered in silent grimness.

A thought found roots in Arius’s mind, traveled quickly to his heart, then formed as words that came from his soul. “But there is a perfect match. Correct, Father?”

Nor answered grimly. “Yes.  Atlantian DNA. They are terrified that we cannot escape the Dark Heart of Creation. That’s why they broke the Agreement and are harvesting living DNA. They think they are safe because we are doomed. Violating the sanctity of the Chromosatic Agreement means nothing if we perish.”

Arius protested, “Then why deny them our DNA?”

Nor tapped his fingers and focused on his son. “I can’t tell you. Not even now.  It is the deepest secret in our society.” Nor flashed cold blue eyes at Yu. “Guarded even Guardians!”

Nor was suddenly as tired and worn as his distressed desk. He panned the room with his piercing eyes. “The Ancient Ones first took solid form a million years ago. But the inherent chromosome malady has progressively destroyed their molecular cohesion. Now, they are slowing this molecular degeneration by surrounding themselves with energy waves resembling thermal vapor. Their ships could join our fleet and carry our people to safety.”

Arius, the Lawmaker, interrogated the Supreme Magistrate. “Why don’t they barter their help for our DNA?”

“They tried.  The majority of the council refused because it involves the mass killing of Atlantian citizens.  If our world dies, so dies the animal DNA we’ve traded for centuries. Without it, the Ancient Ones will be extinct within ten Atlantian years. Yu is correct about a worse fate. They’ll go mad first.”

Yu empathetically felt their planet fall into a breeding pit of hysteria. She imagined the wild cackling of mass insanity. “We have them backed into a corner. They must help us--.”

Arius interrupted, “Or steal enough of our living DNA and let the asteroid destroy Atlantis!”

Nor assented, “I believe they are securing all the DNA they can now by any means.”