Chapter One of The Threshold of Atlantis

Prologue

         A silent behemoth drifted through the heavens, its pilots were once invincible in their knowledge, once un-phased by their creations, now their knowledge is the Enemy.  The Enemy shows no mercy, has no fear, and encircles the stars with its wrath. Long did they struggle in vain against the foe, the longer they wrestled the greater their plight. So, they fled, their ship sped toward safety, and they beheld the beginning of the end, the doorstep of The Ring, the Threshold of Atlantis. But their Enemy would never be thwarted, He cast a scourge upon the fleeing, and their knowledge was no more. All would have perished, but for the Named. The Named awoke from the sleep of the scourge, but lost not her name. The Named knew were they had been, were they were going, and who they were. So she named the Nameless, fed the hungry, and told us this story, and so we tell you, so that you may know: We are on the Threshold of Atlantis, and salvation cometh with the flames of the old.









Chapter One:

        Quelon recited the history of The Great War. She wasn’t particularly good at the recent histories. In fact she had actively hated them for years, mostly because of the sheer number of names, conflicts and dates. That is one of the reasons she now sat in the study of her teacher. The study itself revealed a lot about the nature of her teacher’s specialty. The desk on the far side of the room was strewn with old trinkets, pots and weapons, each one tagged and stacked with notes.  The room itself consisted in one flat back wall, in front of which was the desk, and two long curved walls meeting at the door. Everything was metal, old metal, some of the corners were slightly rusted; the desk was worn totally smooth by use.  Several bookshelves were built into the back wall, pictures and paintings of historical events were haphazardly hung along the walls. Hanging from the roof was the stuffed hide of Grojia (A six legged reptilian beast that inhabits the lower levels), in the center of the room were two chairs.

         “You must learn to say it with correct accents Quelon; you can’t just recite it blandly and expect to get any pupils.” Quelon took a deep breath and recited in her head for a second before starting again. Her Grandmother, Leanus was the best historian she had ever met, but she held the memorization of the most important of the histories in the highest regard and tolerated no failure in their sessions. Leanus was old; Quelon didn’t know exactly how old but she had never seen her without her distinctive silver hair tied in a bunch.

         “The Great War was the most recent time of darkness in our history. Ki’Locoi wanted to gain control of all the Food dispensaries and their supply reserves so that he could use them to gain leverage over Ki’Donolan’s dominant political power.” Quelon paused, extending her breath recall the next section, “He allied himself with the Bandit Toolin.” She stopped for a moment, struggling to recall the rest, “The Bandit Toolin was the first person to rally,” she went on quicker and more confident now, “the bandits together into one entity.”

Leanus smiled, and said, “Well done, what have you discovered in your last visit to the power generators?”

         “Well, from what I can tell, it’s not good.”

“What’s lead you to that conclusion?” The two sat down on the chairs.

“The fourth light kept on blinking, last time that happened the Klai Power Outage happened, which sparked the Bandits Final Offensive.”

“Yes, but the fourth light hasn’t always predicted a power outage, the fourth light predicted the second dimming. Maybe another dimming is near.”

Quelon looked down and thought for a moment. “I wish we could see inside the generator, instead of just guessing.”

Leanus chuckled, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished that.” Then, a small shriek reverberated into the room, Quelon closed her eyes and said, “I better get down there, they’re at it again.”

“Come Quelon, I’ll tell them a story, maybe The Forgetting, that’ll calm them down.”

“Okay, I guess the lesson is over.”  The two walked out of the study, the hallway went back to the right and then curved slightly toward the bedroom door. They passed several storage rooms before coming to the stairs. They went along the wall in a large cathedral ceiling living room. In the center of that room two young children sat the younger looking very glum.

Leanus smiled while saying, “Come now children, don’t get all bent out of shape. I’ll tell a story.”  The two children perked up a little and sat beside Leanus in the center of the room. Soft light glistened over the decorated couches and chairs surrounding Leanus, the door in the hall way beyond seemed to operate without making a sound. Everything in that room went quiet when she spoke. A rolling lyrical voice, as if you were listening to a perpetual poem. Despite her advanced years Leanus had always maintained her history lessons. Even as her 79th birthday approached she still bound her silver and white hair in a bunch and sat down with the children. She had kept going through the Great War, why should she stop because her muscles ache, or her throat goes hoarse by the end of the day.

The house was large for her position, largely due to her uncanny ability to recite the ancient history from heart. The larger houses were scarce and defended fiercely; there were no new houses because they lived in a ship. Not a tiny exploration vessel, or some archaic rocket ship, but The Ship. Two miles long, a mile across, and 100 stories thick, it was home to thousands. No one could remember a time before they lived in The Ship. The oldest story in the ancient histories was that of The Forgetting, a time long ago when everyone forgot. It was that story which she was currently telling to her most avid patrons, her grand children. She had three.

They listened carelessly, as if brushing their teeth, to her story, a story you have already heard. Dianus, a young girl, seemed totally absorbed in the glistening metal walls, unique among the dwellings of that area; they were shod in diamond and glowed softly. Dianus thought that they were the greatest sight in all The Ship. It was hard to imagine a tinier person, (at least when looking at her) she had long dark hair, bright attentive green eyes which seemed to expand and brighten when pleading for some concession, and dim when disappointed. She wore a slightly stained white overall with a blue tee shirt underneath.  At that particular moment she was thinking of her mother. When she was just a baby her mother had died in the lower levels.

The lower levels were dangerous, they swarmed with outcasts, criminals and bandits. But they had to be repaired, so the local Ki sent the three children’s mother down with a detachment of troops, but they never returned. Dianus had been raised by her oldest sister, Quelon. Quelon was training to be a historian, like her grandmother, but taking care of her two younger siblings often slowed her progress. She was tall, and lithe, her blond hair came down to her neck; she had blue eyes and roughly defined curves matching her angular facial features. She wore a silver jump suite with a small messenger bag slung across her body.  No one was more troublesome than Anolan; he hadn’t handled their mother’s death well. He was on the brim of adolescence, tall, with blue eyes and short black hair. He wore a long sleeved white shirt using a high tech felt used to close the upper chest and neck portions of the shirt, with dark brown pants. He rarely complied with the wishes of his older sister, who often described him as a free spirit, marching to the beat of his own drum.

As the story was over, Dianus said, “Come Grandma, tell us another one, I’m not hungry!” Quelon cast wry smile in her direction and said, “I can tell you the next story on the way home, Grandma has other things to attend to.” Anolan had already started for the door; he had no intentions of hearing another story.

Dianus said, “I prefer Grandma,” and stomped defiantly after Anolan.

Quelon shouted after them, “Don’t go too far I’ll be out soon,” and turned to Leanus, “They never slow down, do they?”

“You’ve done very well, ahem,” said Leanus coughing, “you should be proud.” Quelon smiled, but noticed the absence of the younger two and quickly departed while waving good bye.  She stepped toward the wide door and it swooshed open, sliding to one side. A slight breeze blew Quelon’s golden locks into her face.  As she wiped them away she heard Leanus coughing, and then the door closed. The hallway was much like it was some 1000 thousand years ago, the only noticeable difference would be the lights. The stories Quelon was memorizing spoke often of the white light of The Ship. These lights were soft, casting strange shadows as one walked down the time worn and stained hall. The once well defined friction pads were worn into a memory. Doors and intersections spread out along the passage in every direction. The only indication as to their location was small multicolored symbols painted above doors and in the middle of intersections. Quelon walked after the two children, content that they knew the location of the ration dispensaries. They had, of course, gone there many times, the familiar benches and tables worn smooth by centuries of use flashed in her head as she remembered the place. There were many places like it spread out throughout The Ship, but none felt exactly like hers. Her thoughts were quickly brought to the present by the incessant squeaks of Dianus (which were often mistaken for some strange malfunction). “What is it?”

Dianus stopped suddenly, realizing the nature of her reaction. “The toy auction! Can we please, please go get some new toys?” Quelon looked at the flustered child, toy auctions were rare, but they couldn’t afford them even if she wanted to buy them. A part of her desperately wanted to go into the dazzling rotunda like room to their right. The hesitation of the three drew strange looks from people as they went into the crowded store.

New anything was rare in The Ship, whatever it was for before The Forgetting it didn’t plan for having people stay there so long. Many times Quelon had wondered exactly what it was for. The only way for historians to get clues about its function was to go into the lower levels, which as you know are very dangerous.

After a moment of two Quelon shook her head no, and Dianus walked on, her head hung low. Anolan seemed content to ignore the entire event, and walked expressionlessly onward.  The hall way began to widen, the constables of Ki’Jori could be seen slowly patrolling the passage ways. The large homes of the higher castes were on either side of them. Finally they came out into the main square. It was a large rectangular room about 100 yards long with a large lower section open to the upper one. Cat walks crisscrossed the lower floor, passages emptied out onto the encircling upper section; the lower section was filled with market stalls selling furniture and other exotic wares, while its walls held large store fronts and huge doors. This was their Ki’s square, what’s a Ki?

Well, the Ki is the protector and ruler of a certain section, the system was established by The Named time immemorial. Whenever a crisis faces the Ki’s they summon The Gathering, which consists of all the oldest and most respected elders, and all the Kis. But that hadn’t happened for three hundred years, so all the three thought of as they walked down the stairs to the lower section was what they were going to eat when they got there. There wasn’t far. They walked through a large entrance down a short flight of stairs. The smell of food, crisp and fresh, wafted past them. People bustled past them, absorbed in their business. The buzz of conversation came from every corner. The high roof was lit with long hanging yellow lamps, casting a cheery glow about the wide room. In the corner they saw the line filtering slowly through a door at the far end of the dining hall. That was the kitchen. These sights would have elicited at least a moment of appreciation from me or you, but they had seen it a thousand times before (much like a New Yorker doesn’t pause to contemplate the Empire State building). Think what those children would have thought if they could see tree’s, or grass, or tall mountains. They made their way slowly through the crowd to the line, it was moving especially slow today. Many of the people in the line were getting impatient, finally, after several disgruntled cries came from the kitchen the manager came out. He was obviously flustered, and looked worried. After a moment of silence he spoke, his voice wavering slightly, “There are some slight technical difficulties, please come back tomorrow.” Quelon knew something was up, the line slowly dispersed, as she went into the kitchen. The manager was closing up. Why?

“What’s gone wrong with the system,” she added, “I might be able to help.”

The manager turned around sharply and grumbled something under his breath before saying, “I don’t know what’s wrong, please leave.” He managed a shaking smile with the last part.

“Can I see it?” Quelon raised her eyebrow and looked doubtfully at the tall red haired man.

“Please, I don’t have time for little girls, go away.”

“Fine.” She walked away, frustrated, she had to go to the lower levels and check the food supplies. She was, after all, one of the few people with the ability to read the text used by the ship.

Anolan said, “Can I go to The Control Room? Please?” Quelon wasn’t against it at all, but he had been spending a great deal of time there, but it was good he had something to do when she went to the lower levels.

“You can go, but be back at the house by 1400.” Anolan walked off giving all his assurances to comply with her demands. Now Quelon thought of what to do with Dianus, she had to go a short distance into the lower levels, which, will dangerous, weren’t as hazardous as deeper incursions. She could of course leave Dianus with her grandmother but, as you might imagine, Quelon had to leave the two to her care increasingly. So she decided to take her down. The bandits rarely went so close to the Kis, and rarely bothered entirely much with children without military escort.

She and Dianus set out for the lower levels, being careful not to make too much noise as they approached the stairs. As they came through the relatively uniform halls to a bulge, on the left of the widening hall a wide door opened onto a winding stair case. A mark next to the door indicated the end of the patrolled Kis. You might think that because the door lacked a guard the bandits might gain access to the populated zones easily, while at first they might get in easy, they would probably never get out. So the door was unguarded, no one much suspected they would attack anyway, the bandits had been defeated and hunted into the lower levels many times and were getting shyer and shyer. They began their descent and came to another wider hallway, dimly lit with pale lights not embedded into the floor like in the Kis, but hanging haphazardly out from the roof and strewn among puddles of dirty and oily water. The distant sound of gunfire startled them.

Dianus instantly began nervously pulling Quelon back, saying, “We shouldn’t have come down here, they’re going to get us just like they got Mommy.” Quelon became very melancholy, and suddenly regretted her decision to bring Dianus. But, they continued on, Quelon had the opinion that second guessing ones decisions leads to indecision, and consequentially, failure.  After a long walk and another descent, marked by uncanny silence they came to The Vats. The Vats were, of course, the storage vessels in which the chemicals that are combined and heated in the dispensaries. They were kept in long, tall, warehouse like rooms, two or three stories tall. The Vats themselves were wide cylindrical tubes, two rows in a room, extending up to the roof.  Quelon and Dianus trekked through the long room toward the central regulation room, through a door at the far end. This journey was no easy task. Along with ankle deep debris of most decayed and broken manner The Vats had once been the principle breeding grounds of the Grojia, a favored delicacy of the bandits. So it was heavily booby trapped, and though they could be avoided with a degree of caution.

At length they walked through the heavy doors on all four sides of the central regulation room, three of which opened up to more warehouse room, and one that gave access to a long hallway with similar warehouse rooms opening from that . Most consoles in that room were unexplainable to Quelon, the only one she had a rudimentary understanding of was a small interface situated in the far right corner of the room. For awhile she studied the interaction log that documented the internal food distribution promptings. Then, she entered a query about the remaining food, the computer hummed noticeably.  After a few seconds results streamed onto the screen. She read them, her face became rigid, her jaw clenched, and tears welled in her eyes.

Dianus said, “What’s wrong?”

              Quelon replied slowly, “There’s no more food, there’s nothing left.”

Dianus looked confused, “You, mean, that all those vats are empty.”

“Yes, this means one of two things, but we need to get out of here.”

“Okay. LOOK OUT!” Just then, a rod of molten metal the size of a pencil flew at the speed of sound toward them. The flight was accompanied by a deafening pop, similar to that heard as a fighter jet flies by, and a metallic clang. It was fortunate that the man firing the rammer (the weapon that fires such bolts) was a bad aim. The two were crouched; Quelon saw the splat of red hot metal imbedded in the wall behind them. Dianus squealed and covered her head. By now you have probably realized that if the Kis has no food, then neither would the bandits. Bandits who have no technicians, or historians, and would have assumed it was some plot by their upper level rivals. Quelon began entering commands into the console furiously, while trying to stay as low possible. More vicious bolts came careening into their corner. Several rag clad figures advanced toward the door slowly, taking cover in the dense debris whenever they stopped.

The two would have been soon captured, if it had not been for the command Quelon then finished. The great doors, thick and reinforced, closed on all sides, except the door which they had come from.  The entrance from which the assault had come rang over and over again with the attack of the bandits. The sisters now began a hasty retreat, Dianus being carried by Quelon, was still in a state of shock. Quelon ran as fast as the trash would allow, she knew the bandits would come around by a different route soon. She cursed her stupid mistake, she should have told the Ki, and gone with an entire brigade. She should have never taken Dianus, never in a thousand years. Of course hindsight is 20x20. She kept on running, each footing held on half hope, and half luck in the messy sprawl. She had no time to consider carefully her next step.

The loud clanging could still be heard, finally the blast doors opened. They had managed to break through its control circuits. The bandits streamed through the distribution deck and into their vat room. By then she was three quarters of the way to the exit. Bolts came like rain; fires broke out in the oily trash, shooting up a thick velvet black smoke.  A single bolt from that initial volley grazed Quelon’s arm. The molten metal cut through it like a hot knife through butter, it instantly cauterized the wound, and left behind several specks of cooling metal. The screeching popping sounds became almost unbearable. They would have been struck many more times if it had not been for the smoke.

Quelon collapsed as she stumbled out on to the relatively clean hall way, her arm still smoking. Dianus was crying softly, but seemed to handle it with a degree of calm. Loud yelling came from the vat room; one of the bandits had evidently been caught by one of the traps.  Dianus now ran next to Quelon, who clutched her arm, as they ran down the hallway; they were not far from the stairs now. The fires spread into the hall way, lighting what trash there was and creating mini explosions as it caught puddles of oil and fouled water ablaze.

They retraced their steps with deadly urgency, until finally, as fires spread behind them; they found the steps to the Kis. At the top several armed soldiers beckoned to them, but they suddenly yelled, “Get Down!” Quelon looked behind her, warm light glimmered across to floor and reflected on a pool of water and then a bandit rounded the corner, the firelight cast a long shadow across the landing as he aimed at the girls with a vicious look on his face.