Galactica: Book 1 - Via Lactea

 

It has been six months since Atlantis One’s population has been rescued through time by the timely intervention of Thebes and its Cohorts from the explosion of their primary star. The Emperor had decided, jointly with his family, to postpone reanimation until things had time to settle after the jump though the Worm Hole and the destruction of the Borgs. Things needed to be carefully planned, and the tessaract layer where the ecosystems of Atlantis One had been ported needed to stabilise before its higher-level inhabitants could be reinserted.

Everything had been moved into the tessaract segment to the exception of weapons, which were left in storage, under high compression, way out of reach of the rescued population. Everything else had been moved into a L9 tessaract compartment, covering two square miles and divided according to about 6,000 distinct ecosystems. The apparent sky was closely mapped to Atlantis One; the only difference was the ceiling, set at a height of six feet, which translated into a virtual height of 6,000,000,000 feet, beyond which any vessel would be automatically ported in another segment to simulate space flight.

Before reanimating their ancestors, the Royal family also considered how to establish contact. What would be their reaction? How do you tell people that, had it not been for Thebes and Atlantis Three, they would be long dead and reduced to star dust?

Then, there was the fauna of Atlantis One: How many could be co-opted to become full-fledged Atlanteans? Or was the Conscience a unique Earth phenomenon? So many aspects had to be considered. To resolve that issue, hundreds of teams descended into the tessaract, shielded against viral, retro-viral, microbial agents and prions. Also flocking to the Atlantean biosphere were all sorts of teams dedicated in finding every vector of sickness. Everything was done using Spiders, sort of robots developed for multiple and varied tasks by Paschal. Some collected samples, others used exposed growth media, and some spiders, no bigger than nanobots, explored some hard to reach areas, confronting microbial life at its diminutive size.

It became apparent that setting foot in the tessaract might cause some serious backlash, as the Atlanteans were not immunised properly for the onslaught of infectious agents found on a thriving planet. Made aware of the situation, Enron, Harp and Paschal took to developing powerful vaccines that would be implemented ship-wide through atmospheric distribution. It was deemed impractical to vaccinate every species, numbering in the millions if not the billions, by any other means. Over the next six months, using gene splicing, vaccines were created to cover viruses, retro-viruses, bacteria, and prions. The vaccines were then administered by means of the ship ventilation, bypassing the filters that kept the different ship segments separate. Time to reanimate the Atlanteans seemed to draw near. One morning, the Royals were holding their morning meeting and discussing the progress.

"Dad, we are almost ready to reinsert the population in the ecosystem. Before we do, is there anything we might have missed?" asked Harp that morning, as they were holding their usual working breakfast at prime.

Everyone thought things out, and suddenly, the King of the Goblins, a usually shy person, spoke up.

"I see one issue, my Lords. We are immunised, but are the life-forms of Atlantis One immunised against our own infectious diseases? It is a two-way street, you know. We won’t be killed by their sicknesses, but ours could well exterminate them to the last, thus negating our hard work!"

After a few whistles, Harp looked at Enron and his Dad, Samson. "It’s back to the drawing board, guys. We need to do to that tessaract segment what we did to the entire ship. How long do you think it will take us?"

"Add another month, Harp. It will be a lot faster since we have a good schematic of the microbial load carried by the rescued Earth ecosystems, even if they have evolved since they got moved within the tessaracts of the Eden and Ark projects. We can essentially focus on the microbial aspects of the space-ship itself, since we keep the Eden and Ark projects in relative isolation from the main flow of air by using ports."

"The isolation by port is effective only if everyone uses the portals or self-ports. Is this the case?"

"I think so Sitar. I was always afraid of cross-contamination, and all locks require porting to leave to go to another gate. It is a signature porting, so nothing but what constitutes the person is ported. I have seen to it that anything else gets destroyed while the individual is in the beam. That is also the reason no odour ever crossed from one segment to another."

"And that is why I am always hungry after porting! My lunch stays behind!" replied Alexander.

"You are always hungry, Alexander. You are trying to make me get white hair, but if Harp has not succeeded while competing with Megalodons, I do not see how you could!" replied Samson.

"I do not need to do anything, Grandpa! You already have white hair!"

"Actually, Alexander, what you do leave behind is residue; our metabolism is so rapid we absorb just about everything useful within fifteen minutes of swallowing it. This is the ransom of being magical," replied Harp.

"Ok, it is an acceptable delay, given the critical importance of the whole affair," decided Harold. "How are we on strategic question, Sitar?"

"The production of force vectors, namely ships able to project Atlantis’ power over the horizon of our sensors, is well on its way, according to Paschal. We have a single polymorphic ship, adaptable to all our current species, from Fairies to Dragons of the size of King Typhoon. The ships are in fact space suits complete with warp and graviton propulsion, an enclosed environment, and enough firepower to face a Borg ship, should the need arise. Weapons include antimatter, photon, nuclear, and classical weapons such as bullets. The later can be ported on a distance of 5 light-years. The auto-recall mechanism is also implemented, should the need arise. The shields are able to withstand just about anything, and the shell is made of mithril. It is slightly less resistant than Thebes’ orichalque structure. However, it is honeycombed, making for a very light mass whose strength is multiplied by its structure."

"How it it controlled?" wanted to know Amethyst, Diamondcutter’s wife.

"As I asked, it has two sets: magical controls, and eye control. You look at the control and it activates. Magical overrides manual, as a safety measure."

"And what about sensor range, type and autonomy?"

"In order, the sensor range is 1,000 light-years; it includes the whole spectrum of radiation from the gamma rays to the long radio waves, plus the detection of gravitons, magic fields, and chronions, the time field. The user selects what he or she wants to see on the forward screen in any projection best suited for its needs, and it is possible to overlay different sensor readings, and do mathematical transforms on them, such as interferometry. To the last point, the range is 2,000 light-years, but unlikely to be ever used. They have pulse transwarp capacity, meaning they can use it only a couple of times, for a short burst. It would be used to bring the ship back to Thebes after an incident, escape an enemy, or to get them all closer on a general recall, should Thebes need to enter transwarp or need them to assist in a battle. The later is less than likely."

"And how many again, are there of these little marvels?" asked Timor, the Troll king.

"At current, over 1,000,000, and we are adding more daily. The Legions are trying to develop tactics for their collective use in the conditions of space. Armour tactics used with the Spiders do not work when you have to take into account three dimensions."

"That is nice! When do you plan to deploy?" wondered Diamondcutter, the King Father of the Dwarves.

"As soon as we have dealt with Atlantis One. By then, we should have somewhere around two to five times the current numbers. Ian has hidden us in a star nursery, so we are also learning the use of gravitational wells to slip into position without leaving the tell-tale signature of a warp bubble. Plus, the level of radiation is such we are undetectable except at nose to nose range. Tactics are developed as we train each pilot. By the way, Colibri, the use of a comet to hide an armada of suits works marvellously well, thank you for suggesting it. We simply landed on the comet and let it do the travel for us. We managed to get within 500,000 miles of Thebes before the grids noticed something was up. We have since refined our array grid so this will not happen again, but it was genial!"

The diminutive human blushed profusely at the praise from Sitar. He had learned the power of the God of War of Atlantis during their escape from Earth, and praise from him meant a lot.

"What is happening with the Felines?" asked Diamondcutter.

"They are hard at work learning cooperative hunting, and, once they overcome their individualistic approach to survival, they will be formidable additions to our ground forces. The number of Felines with Magic is limited for now, but is growing steadily. It also goes for the Australopithecus Regressi. However, as Harp said, we despair of ever seeing Adults break the mould. They are too focussed on immediate survival to actually see beyond their next survival test. On the other hand, the teens and pre-teens are keen learners and should shortly be ready to be trained in basic Magic, according to Harp."

"And what about the Dolphins?" wanted to know Alexander, who was fascinated by them.

"They should be magical within three or four generations. The issue will be to take them out of the Cetacean dream and focus on more practical uses. They do great poets, but that does not add to our war effort."

"Ok. Matriarch?" asked Harold.

"My eggs are progressing on schedule. Within a hundred Earth orbits, they should begin to hatch. As for Magic, I do not know."

"Do not worry. The fact that they can accumulate Orichalque tells me your species is magical in nature, if not in actions. It is a question of motivation and emulation," replied Harp.

"And what about our latest addition to the Royal family, Harold-Ian?" wondered Annabelle.

"He’s growing like weed on bull fertiliser, if you really want to know. Luckily he is of a gentle disposition, or I would have issues!" replied Iridia, the Fairy princess. "He takes after his Dad in all departments except in the ear and facial traits. Hair everywhere, and an exotic blond too, that almost seems white. He is already twice my height! By the way, thank you, Greywolf, for getting a series of Wolf Bitches to supply the milk. I think Timor would have spent 80% of his days lactating otherwise!"

"It is my pleasure, Iridia. We are family after all!"

"And when he grows too much on the poor Bitches, I have aligned a series of mares. It’s a fight as to whom, from the Centaurs, the Equines, the Unicorns, or the Pegasuses will offer the most mares for the feeding line!" added Silver Moon.

"What about Tom and Jerry, the two Australopithecus Toddlers you rescued?"

"It’s going to be some time before we can remove diapers, even if they are four, Dad," replied Timor as he watched his Dad handle one of the little bundle of velvety fur balls. "Hygiene is really not natural in that species. But they do like to play in the bubble bath. In fact, I had to lock the bubble soap bottle up!"

"Why?"

"The two little rascals opened the bath faucets at full flow, and dumped the entire bottle in it. As you know, it only takes a drop to get a good froth! The soap suds covered the bathroom suite from floor to ceiling, from the bath into their bedroom! It was only the sound of their giggling that allowed me to discover two soap-Boys in the bubble storm!"

"Is that the day they had soap bubbles escape their mouth each time they had a hiccough?" asked Annabelle, sniggering.

"Yes! I checked with the Healer at the General Hospital, and soap is not damaging for their intestinal tract, so nothing was done to flush it out."

"Do you have a definite birth date for the two tumbleweeds?" Harold asked, between guffaws at the prank Timor had been the victim of.

"We discussed the issue. They were born out of Thebes, so we do not have an electronic record. So we decided to put as birth date the day we took them off the hands of their respective tribe. As for Yousef, I used the same idea," replied Colibri. "That puts Yousef at six years old now. He loves to play with Tom and Jerry, and sometimes, I think he is the instigator of their pranks. Timor, I suggest you make sure Harold-Ian does not take from them, or we will be in for a very interesting life!"

"As if parents could stop pranks! But you are right, I’ll have to make sure they do not unduly influence his nature. I can just imagine the little bugger trying to imitate his three ‘uncles’ in the art of getting in trouble! Shivers!"

"Are they in training?" asked Sitar.

"If you are talking about Tom, Jerry, and Yousef, yes they are. And they are giving the Officers in charge a run for their lunch! Yousef is about at the same level as a two-year old Atlantean, but is catching up. Tom and Jerry are still a bit like our one and a half year olds, due to their morphology, but it will be dealt with in time. Can you have a look at their training, Sitar? Maybe there is something the Sargent misses."

"I will be going to the training grounds today anyway. I want to train some."

"As if you needed it!"

"Training is never lost."

"Has there been any news from Nestor?"

"Let me check. Thebes? Please locate Nestor and describe his overall activity?"

"Yes, Ian," replied one of the space-ship’s many artificial intelligence. "He is currently in tessaract one, looking at some of the salvaged architecture. I think he is comparing the concept the Ancients had about was Mesopotamian architecture with what was replicated by Paschal’s machines. He is probably as shocked as you were, Princes, when you did the comparison!"

"Good! Shock is what he needs!"

"Harp!" scolded Annabelle.

"Mom, he has been set in his ways for too long. Being a Mage does not excuse mental rigidity! In fact, it should be the total opposite, the antithesis of sclerosis of the mind, but Grandpa Nestor had been siting on his laurels for way too long."

"Talking about mental fitness, what is happening with Arnakaton?" asked Annabelle.

"Nothing in the penthouse, but health-wise, he has improved by a hundred percent," replied Enron.

"I thought we could heal him?"

"Maybe we could, but it would change him so much it would no longer be the gentle Boy-Man Arnakaton is. He is fun to be with as he is, and, to be honest, I see no reason to bring him out of the state of grace he is in just to discover that he is the Duke of an illusion. He is happy as he is, and enjoys walking around Thebes with the Decurie of Canines assigned to him, unaware the space ship carries the name of his old capital because it was the initial building block that led to its existence. The Ancients had a saying: Better is the enemy of Good; let us leave good as is, because better might destabilise the Duke."

"He is also an assiduous student of the Art classes I give once a week. He has an eye for drawing, details and colours. He focuses on representing real object. It is obsessive in detail, perspective, and proportions. But do not try to get an imaginary scene out of him, it is useless."

"I see. Well, at least, he does something with himself. Let good be enough," decided Harold. "What about the others? I was expecting some to be pulling at the bits by now."

"Dad, some grumbled once we left Earth, but I brought them to the forward lounge and showed them where we were. The question was simple: do you want to reign on void? I think some had yet to realise the meaning of space travel. For them, travel meant a run from their capital to Elvin Woods! They just had no notion of the real distance between stars, and for that matter, of our speed. I think some were dreaming of installing an Archduchy on a planet somewhere! Reality sank in quite rapidly when we crossed that star cluster, and I told them all these colourful objects were suns and that the occasional dark spots were giant gaseous planets whose gravity well was ten to one hundred times the Earth’s! Some had carnations that would have made Ghosts rotten green with envy!"

"Ian, you are terrible!"

"But effective. Remember, none has undergone the Ordeal, and they are still living in the Middle Ages. Their children, on the other hand, are embracing the new world with passion and dedication."

"I am still surprised there has not been any infighting."

"Harold, the way we dealt with the issue in the Elvin Kingdom has left unforgettable marks on their psyche. They know they stand next to no chance to survive a breach of the Imperial peace. And they see their own blood rooting for us and becoming like us, becoming Mages. They envy their Children, some may even despise what their Children are becoming, but they have the grace to admit they can do nothing about it," replied Enron.

"There is another thing that is occurring with crowned broods," said Sitar.

"Oh?" wondered Diamondcutter.

"They are gradually beginning to detach themselves from the notion of hereditary leadership and of fiefdom, titles, blue blood nonsense, and the other stupidities associated with a pyramidal political structure. It has been three months since I last heard someone reference to someone else by title. They do recognise the need for a decision structure, but they are more inclined to look for the person with the most competence, not for a crowned head. And they are also a lot more willing to take decisions themselves and do things rather than constantly referring to higher-ups. It is refreshing. The only laggards are the crowned heads of old, but they have the good sense to keep a low profile."

"Dianne must be having stomach burns!" replied Samson.

"Oh, I think Enron’s blow-out a few years back has made her weary of acting up on what she may feel. She remembers way too clearly Enron’s parting comments!" said Harp.

"It may in fact explain the calm with which the old blood takes to the dismantlement of the feudal society. They are now content with suggesting things at the Privy Council," added Enron. "They try to keep up with the training regimen we impose, but they have to see the facts face to face when their two-year old little girl sends them flying across the carpet from a judo move, or that their one and a half year old Boy disarms them with his puny two-inch blade. I have seen Men with long experience of the blade cry in shame after being trounced by their progeny, mere Toddlers barely able to walk on their own, while they rode on Wolves holding to the hair with one hand, the other wrapped around a knife handle all the while keeping another in reserve between their baby teeth!"

"That is what happens in the Fields of Mars, Enron." added Typhoon. "The same Toddlers go hunting with their family, and the parents are usually returning their breakfast rather quickly. I saw one Baron, I do not remember which one, faint after seeing his two and a half year old attack a big Caribou Buck with a six-inch blade by riding her Wolf on an intercept course, jump from her Wolf rolling in the tundra, and gut the beast while it jumped over her. She ended with the entire contents of the bowels on her while the Buck collapsed heel over head due to the impetus of the run. She stood up, covered with blood from head to foot, and the only white thing visible were her teeth from a very wide smile!"

After taking a sip of water, Typhoon continued, looking at Harp with a wink.

"When the Father was revived by the care of an icy bucket of water, he asked her why she did it that way. Do I need to spell it out? If Harp can, so can I!"

***

Another month passed, and another of the daily working breakfast is beginning.

"Sitar, what is the situation concerning the Fighters?"

"We are still in the process of developing tactics, Dad. Some are rather hairy!"

"What do you mean?"

"One of the Dragons figured that since we were in a high-radiation environment, it might be useful to use the Fighters’ high reflectivity to focus light in a parabolic mirror. The result was impressive. It produced a gamma-ray laser of several terawatts, whose beam could be pointed anywhere just by changing the configuration of the components of the mirror. It is using nature’s natural resources to our advantage pushed to an art. It goes further. Another trainee, a Dwarf, took a dive in a star, staying just below the chromosphere, and managed to hide from our sensors. When we came within range, he hit us with a powerful laser beam. Sit tight! He had used the laser to keep his space-suit cold, but pointed downward so we could not detect it."

"And how old are these two strategists?"

"One is nine, the other twelve. Both methods produce the same result, one using group tactics, the other individual survival skills. It is leaving me breathless. If this is what we can produce in seven months, I shall be willing to pit us against any dark lord in a year!"

"Ok. I can not imagine why? But, in your very qualified expertise, are they ready to do an Ordeal in the Pyramids?"

"Militarily? Yes. Magically? Only Harp is qualified to answer that."

"Bring them to Harp tomorrow for testing. If they are, they bind to a Dragon within the next few months! We are in need of more shape-shifters."

The two Boys nodded to Harold.

"Enron, biosphere status?"

"Ship-wide, it is optimal. In the tessaracts, it is also optimal. We are monitoring the Pterodactyls. They have begun expanding their nesting grounds. The other tessaracts have been under constant monitoring for super-viruses like the Feline Immunodeficiency virus that almost wiped the Felines. So far, we have found six. All were immediately eradicated and vaccines created for all species concerned by the viruses. We are in the process of expanding the monitoring to the Eden project and the Pterodactyls’ layer. The next step will be your nest, Matriarch. Next will be the survivors of Erigon IV. For now, we hope they will not catch anything. We do not know enough about their environment to detect what might be wrong."

"Fine, Enron. What about the ecosystems rescued from Atlantis One?"

"We are using the same method we used in the Feline environment to saturate the atmosphere with aerial vaccines for everything that is likely to affect the reconstituted environment. It will take us a good three months to produce the requisite volume and another month to saturate the atmosphere of the tessaract layer."

"This means another delay of what, four months before we transfer Atlantis One’s population back in-situ?"

"Yes, at a minimum."

"Ok. Next. Internal security. How is the integration of the Goblins going?"

"Fine. I am having less and less issues with my people," replied Rockhook.

"And what about the collection of people rescued from the Kingdoms of Atlanticus?"

"I am having very little issue, since the most recalcitrant individuals are undergoing a brain-washing of first magnitude. The hardest hit are those we last rescued, namely the ones taken from the Bunker of the Blinds in the Houston region," replied King Jefferson Davis.

"What about Orcs?"

"The process of releasing children is continuing; we also release Adults, at a much more sedate pace. The few issues I had were resolved with a scimitar. Thank you, Harold, for forging it for my use. It has been rarely used, but its sight sends shivers down those who might have views on my throne," replied Tarik.

"And Tool?" asked Harp, remembering the misgivings Tarik had about his childhood friend.

"I was told he suddenly burst in flames after suggesting, planning and trying to implement high treason and revolt in an Orc village I visited the next day. I have a vague idea he was disposed of by Magic itself for breaking a magical vow. I am surprised he even dared to take one."

"He did not. I put a magical scimitar on his head should he ever try to foment trouble against Atlantis. The vow of fealty is just that, in case you were unaware. I am so glad all my friends are still alive even after a year," said Harp. "We can not afford spending our time checking our back. Magic does it for us. And you may not be aware of this, Tarik, since it occurred way before your incorporation into our society, but I took the same vow. All of us did. We are here to serve Atlantis."

"I see. I too am glad. As the Adults get released from their reprogramming stay in the cryogenic pods, it becomes riskier every day for the children to hold their ground. Most of those that tasted my blade of Justice were Adults. Come to think of it, the only blood it has tasted was Adults’ blood."

"What happens if there is a full-fledged revolt?" Harold asked.

"A lot of friar’s lanterns!" replied Harp, remembering fondly his long evenings discussing all sorts of fables and religious beliefs with Harold during the wars on Earth.

"You will never change Harp, and I hope this is a vision, because your acidic sense of humour has kept us sane all those years."

"That’s what you like in me, Samson."

"To make a short story even shorter, any velleity of revolt burned to a crisp even before I set foot in the village. I had never seen such a collection of bums in the air before that day. The only ones that stood proud were the children. None had taken to the taste of Tool’s pot of poisoned honey."

"And you, Iridia?"

"Timor’s impressive size squashes protests, especially since he insists on sitting on the Privy Council in Dragon form, each breath letting out a bit of smoke. Some Councillors have taken to shaving their head as well as their beard, for fear of catching fire!" she replied with a grin.

"Are you still training Spiders?" asked Amethyst, with a shiver.

"Yes, my dear. They are learning new tricks as well. But it is difficult. We are training them to work in zero gravity, should the situation arise."

"Are there any sign of collective interaction, herd-like behaviours, or are they still as individualistic as ever?" asked Diamondcutter.

"Nothing has transpired, and they are monitored continuously."

"For some reason, I feel relieved!" replied Harold. "I wonder if it is the same with Bees, Wasps, and other nesting Insects?"

"I shall ask, my Lord. The question completely escaped my attention."

"Forget titles when we are not in official functions, OK? Being called Emperor every time something happens is getting on my nerves. King was hard, but Emperor? I have heart burns every time someone says the word!"

A few minutes passed while instructions were given to the Royal Guards, Archdukes, Dukes, Barons and other trimmings of a medieval Court asked feedback on different topics or got their instructions for some task or other. During a break in the flow, Sitar caught the attention of his Dad.

"Yes, Son?"

"I am taking out Dianne and a few others today. They are those that seem to be the most apt at adjusting to change, and will be the core of the non-magical forces deployment."

"How many are you talking about?"

"For now, a Decurie."

A few whistles followed the announcement.

"So little?" asked Annabelle.

"Unfortunately. Quite a few have retired in a summer cottage or small property in the tessaract reserved to regenerate the Earth ecosystem, and are content to see trees grow. They know where they are, but they have left the management of their segment of population to their offspring, most of which are magical. Dianne is a force of nature, and even if she is shaky in her boots at the mere mention of Enron, she refuses to be intimidated by the changes. Alaric’s Dad is hopeless. When he saw space for the first time, he turned green and fainted. I had to hug Alaric and tell him repeatedly he was not responsible for the lack of flexibility of his Dad. By the way, I have a petition from the population of that Duchy for the ennoblement of Alaric. Apparently, when he is not busy being Legate for his Legion, he spends his time visiting families of the old Duchy and helping those that have trouble adjusting to the change."

"Does he know about this?" asked Thorsten.

"Not that I know of. Remember, he was a Horse groom when we met him first, and his Dad, even if he was Day Shift Commander for the town, was never ennobled."

"We shall remedy to this at sext. Have both present at our Imperial Throne Room by then, Thorsten! It is time we recognize services rendered to the Crown. Get the Baron as well."

"Are you aware they have never been at the Throne of the Sun, Dad? It will be a shocker for them."

"I have not visited the Imperial Throne Room either since I called on the Ghosts of Vengeance to dispose of the Soul-Eater armada, Sitar."

"I have had a request that the calendar be changed," said Williams. "Do not ask me why someone thought I could do that, but nonetheless, I am forwarding the request to you, Harold. The request has merit."

"Explain?"

"We are still running on Earth calendar, AC or After Cataclysm years. We adjusted the year count to reflect our newly-gained knowledge concerning the on-start of the Cataclysm, but, as the Boy said, it is now past. We need to find a new base, and especially, a new year more appropriate to the fact that we are living in a space ship. We are not bound by the rotation of one planet. He suggested a number of changes to be implemented gradually."

"What are those changes?"

"First, we restart the calendar from Ian’s birth, which would put us in the ninth year of the new era. Second, we make a year 360 days long, with 12 months of 30 days, more to remember that Ian was born on a full Moon. The next major change I vetoed for now: he wanted to change days into slices of ten hours, each of ten minutes, and each minute of ten seconds. I told him we needed more precision, not less, with all the electronic gadgets around. The reshaping of year divisions would have a number of advantages. No leap year, no complex calculations to take into account the motions of a dead planet, yet close enough to still remember our Last Refuge fondly."

"Any comments?"

"Why not your birthday Dad?"

"I can answer that Ian," replied Williams. "According to the Boy, the date of birth of the Emperor is warped in mystery, some saying your Dad was born at the beginning of time, other defending the position he is 400,000 years old, 19,000 years old or less than 30 years old, depending on when he was reborn. On the other hand, your birthday, Ian, is seared in collective memory. It occurred March 19, at midnight exactly. The Wolf Conscience has recorded it as a milestone, and had been counting the days since. If we reshape the calendar, knowing what date it is today will be simple and not prone to debate and divisiveness. You are a few days shy of your tenth birthday, Ian, therefore we would be a few days shy of the tenth year of the new calendar. I asked why not the day of Escape, which would put off the calendar by seven years, seven months ans seven days, but he said this was a day of mourning for Gaia, not a day of rejoicing. What can I say against that argument?"

"Ok, we organise a referendum on the reshaping of the calendar, the day before your birthday. AI-1, can you handle that, please?"

"No problem, Harold. I shall use the time left before the selected day to explain the reasons invoked for the recasting of the calendar."

"Another issue needs to be dealt with," began Enron as another Centurion left with his orders. "Have we found any animal with a modicum of Conscience in the ecosystem rescued from Atlantis One?"

"I have tried, Enron, really tried! Atlantis One had domesticated its birth planet to the point it had no wildlife left. The Shepas, Moocaws, and other animals are so dumb it is a miracle they are aware they need to dump!"

"Shepas, Moocaws?" asked Amethyst.

"These are the names given to two animals held in pastures. Shepas are similar to Wooly Mammoths, and are use primarily for the production of meat and wool. The Moocaws produce dairy and meat, similar to an oversized Cow."

"And they are not herd-oriented?"

"Maybe they were in their original form, but they are now so dimwitted it is shocking. They have absolutely no reaction to a potential predator. I flew over a collection of these animals dispersed in a wide field, and they did not even react. I am sure any Earth-bound herd reacts to a Dragon roaring. They? Not a single one stopped grazing. Under Wolf form, none moved to form a more compact grouping. Bit in the leg, they did not even start moving, much less run! If left to their own devices, they would eat the grass within their reach and starve rather than move a yard or two to continue. The only thing left of natural behaviour is sex, and even then. The two animals must be prodded to move in close proximity!"

"Who handles them?"

"Elves. It was herding machines planet-side. I shall not tell you how the butchering was done. You would lose your breakfast."

"Are they worth saving? After all, we do need to expand our herds, and they would benefit from more grazing space."

"Dad," began Enron, "we have a complete genetic map of the two species. They are so invariant they are close to clones. Preserving, yes, but how? The moment we introduce another animal in there, they will go extinct. I have been scratching my head and the Geneticists are looking at the records of Atlantis One to figure out what was done and why. It is slow-going. Atlantean language has evolved, and so has the writing. Luckily we have the final, imperial version, of the writing, which was used aboard the colony ship and preserved by Atlanteans since the ship left the blown-up star."

"What about plants?" asked Annabelle.

"The same situation prevails, but to a lesser extent. If the star had not blown up, I suspect the ecosystem would have collapsed on its own within 200 years. It is probably why Atlanteans were trying to establish colonies outside of their Home World. From what I observe, they were probably not yet implemented on any life-sustaining planet, or their colonists never survived meeting the microbial environment they met. Had a single one made it back and landed, the ecosystem would have failed completely, killing everything, from plants to Atlanteans themselves. This is what happens when you restrict diversity to the point there is not enough variance to adjust."

"It is a miracle they did manage to survive on Earth."

"I agree. However, there may have been some reason. They travelled to Earth and managed to take enough time to develop a minimum of variability, especially if they were exposed to hard radiation leakage. I have not looked into the Colony ship design. Paschal, can you do that please?"

"Sure. AI-3, how is the indexing of the archives from Atlantis One progressing?"

"It is at 10.02% and climbing."

"Have you located the Colony ship design?"

"No."

"What about maintenance logs?"

"These were lost when the space ship was destroyed during the passage of Venusia. We could probably retrieve them via a time-retrieval Collector, but that would require porting a Centurie there or moving Thebes back in proximity of the Sun. We no longer have sensors there so we have no idea of the local conditions."

"Thank you for the analysis, AI-3. Harold, should we move to the Earth’s Primary current location and recover the Colony ship maintenance logs through time?"

"That decision can wait, Enron. Put it on ice. AI-3, when we are done dealing with the Atlanteans from Home World, please bring up the topic at the morning meeting."

"Recorded, Harold."

***

Sext was near. Harold and his family moved deep in the Kantar quarters of Thebes and climbed the unending, winding Hall of the Pharaoh that would lead to the Throne of the Sun. They were followed by numerous members of the Imperial house, including, to their surprise, Alaric and his Dad. Also included in the procession was Dionysus, the Baron under which Alaric and his Dad used to work. Ur’s Duke was ahead of them, also wondering where he was going, as he, like the others, never had been in Kantar.

The procession made its way to the humongous room, which slowly filled up. Once everyone invited was inside, the great doors closed majestically. Harold, Ian, and Harp made their way to the Throne proper and waited. The first bell of sext rang and marked the beginning of the ceremony. Harold sat down, and the Rising Sun of Atlantis shone brightly, illuminating from behind the three figures. Next sat Ian, to his Dad’s right, and to the left sat Harp. As each one took their position, the Sun rose higher from the virtual horizon. Next walked onto the throne Annabelle, Paschal and Alexander. They too sat down, first Annabelle, then Alexander and followed by Paschal. Again, the Sun progressed further up, but it was still a long way from the zenith. The next to come into play were Sitar, Dunbar, and Williams, to be followed by Enron, Samson, and Typhoon. After less than five minutes every Royal was sitting on the circular obsidian Throne, and the Sun reached its peak. Even Colibri was there holding a Wolf pup on his lap, totally lost between Ian and Harold-Ian.

"I wonder why this order?" whispered a maniac of heraldic laws.

"Archduke," replied Harold, whom had heard the not so discreet whisper, "the order is irrelevant, as long as we are the first to sit on the Throne of the Sun. Do not try to read anything in either the sequence or the order we sit on this hard rock. We are one in many, many in one. The bonds that unite the different Courts, be they Human with Jefferson, Dragon with Typhoon, Legionnaires with Annabelle, Elf with Enron, Dwarf with Thorsten, Faery with Iridia, Troll with Timor, Orc with Tarik, Goblin with Rockhook, Wolf with Ian, Equine with Harp, or any other grouping, are all part of our family and treated equally. We would much appreciate if people stopped trying to dissect hair lengthwise in order to foster divisions and inflate their own importance!"

After taking a sip of water, Harold continued, looking at the Archduke with burning eyes: "We try to make this into a family. For us, all are equal, but some cling to outdated values like drowning Men to life jackets! Take lessons from your Children, and be realists: titles have lost meaning; you no longer hold land or fort. It is the cost to pay for our common survival. Do not worry as to whom your Sons or Daughters bond, for titles are labels, nothing more, nothing less. Richness is also irrelevant, since everyone receives what is needed, notwithstanding the supposed finances of the recipient, but no more. No one can hoard, indulge, or otherwise display an obscene accumulation of material goods to impress their neighbours. Your Sons or Daughters have long abandoned your views on the issue, as we can testify by the number of inter-species bonds we have sanctified. Those that have not are shunned by the others and find themselves on the fringe of society. Is that what you wish for them? A title is a way to recognise good work for Atlantis, but it does not give rise to privileges, rights, or more power. A title is like a flower, it must be sustained, or it will wilt. This is what your Children have realised, and this is why they work so hard at learning new skills, refusing to sit on their Parents' laurels. A title is hereditary to a point. Neglect your betterment, and your title will lose significance to the point of being forgotten. Your Children understand this, more than any title Rat. They understand they have to prove themselves every day, improve their understanding of the world, and be in the forefront of improvements to Atlantean society at large, not their own selfish belly button, for those that have one, that is!"

Harold sat silently for a minute, wondering if the speech had tipped Alaric to what was coming up, but, apparently, the young Elf was way too busy holding hand with his Dragon bonded to worry about the contents of an Imperial speech, much to the amusement of the Emperor. After another minute, Harold called for the trumpet to ring, and as the last sound echoed down the Pharaoh’s Hallway, he stood.

"Alaric of Nineveh, of the Duchy of Ur, please come to the forefront, accompanied by your bonded."

It took a few panicky seconds for Alaric to figure out he was called to the Throne by the Emperor. He stood shakily on his legs, leaning on his red Dragon bonded, and made his way to the first step.

"Kneel!" said Harold as he took Mitsuko from an inter-dimensional fold.

Alaric slowly slumped on his knees, still totally baffled by the events, as his bonded did the same.

"Do you, Alaric of Nineveh, Councillor to the Baron of Nineveh, swear to serve Atlantis to the best of your capacity?"

"So I swear, my Lord."

"Then, rise, Duke of Rigel, we hope the first of many named to reflect our new state, as forever migrant workers of the Cosmos. Receive from us the sword of function, the crown of service, and the mace of authority."

The newly minted Duke was too shaky on his legs to stand up on his own, and was helped up by his bonded.

"Bow to the assembly, Duke of Rigel. May you serve Atlantis on sturdier legs!"

After a bow to the Duke of Ur, another to the Baron of Nineveh, and finally a last one to his Dad, Alaric turned to face Harold once more.

"Amphiptere, Bonded to Alaric, we consulted with Typhoon. We know Dragons have no such thing as titles, and we do not wish to impose these crusty old customs on our Vassals, or to our own bonded. However, we do feel the Dragons deserve recognition for their inestimable contribution to the fabric of Atlantis. We wish to invite you, as well as Alaric, to our Empire’s Council for a period of two years, renewable at our good will. Let this be clear to others: there are a limited number of seats available at the Council. Not renewing a mandate does not mean in any way a person has not served to our satisfaction, but only that we believe new ideas, new blood, is required to face new challenges, of which there will be many in the upcoming times. Take your time, both, to think this over, and visit our quarters or talk to us during the morning briefing to let us know of your decision. Please be seated with the others in the assembly while we finish this ceremony."

The two moved back to their place beside Alaric’s Dad, whose eyes were wet with tears. He hugged his Son so hard Alaric had to convert to Dragon Boy to survive the pressure!

"Colibri, Ethologist of Atlantis, please stand in front of us."

Colibri moved from his position, carrying the Wolf pup in his arm, and took the place vacated a few seconds earlier by Alaric.

"Colibri, you have performed well in excess of our expectations. We are glad to call you Son, and embrace you in the Imperial family, not that there was any doubt about the issue with Ian’s endorsement. Receive from us the marks of a Prince of the Realm, and title of Grand Master Ethologist of the Empire. Join with Enron and Paschal in the task of rescuing ecosystems, reconstructing destroyed ones, and overall ensuring that we accomplish the task we set forth to do."

Colibri did not need prompting, and bowed to the Emperor, Annabelle, Ian and Alexander before turning to the assembly for a last bow. He then faced Harold again.

"Prince Colibri, you are tasked with restoring the biodiversity of Atlantis One as copied into the tessaract. It has suffered immensely under the mismanagement of the Atlanteans. We wish you luck. Do not hesitate to call upon any of us for help. We are at your disposal. You will also receive your own research facilities. We are also aware that, once we restore the Atlantean population to the ecosystems, they will probably try to behave as if nothing changed. You have all authority to take corrective measures, including police and military interventions should the need arise."

"What about the old Imperial family? They are likely to be the most set in their ways."

Harold smiled widely, before answering.

"Colibri, you are one fine observer of politics as well as of life. We plan to deal with them ourselves, endorsing your authority with our personal blade, should the need arise. Rest assured you have our total backing."

"When should I expect their reinsertion into the tessaract?"

Harold looked at Paschal and Enron.

"We have barely begun spraying the ecosystems with the proper vaccines, and those in the stasis pods are at the start of the immunisation program. I would say, three weeks, maybe four. Certainly not before Ian’s birthday," replied Enron.

"Ok."

"Since you mention Ian’s birthday, how is the progress on preparing the referendum concerning the calendar change?"

"The Royal Convocation to vote is ready to be published, your Highness," replied AI-1, using Kantar’s circuitry.

"Fine. Open all internal channels," Harold ordered, as he received the Convocation on the table to his left. He stood up, took the parchment, and began reading.

"Being understood that: first, the Earth is no longer our residence but must not be forgotten for the service it rendered as a refuge for Atlanteans; second, that there is no reason to maintain within the calendar’s structures orbital characteristics of the now deceased Earth; third, that it would benefit our society to simplify the calendar; fourth, that the use of the AC dating might now lead to confusion between the Atomic Cataclysm and the destruction of the Earth; it is proposed the following: that a new calendar be instituted, using Prince Ian’s birthday as the beginning of a new era, the IE era; this calendar’s new year would be set on what is March 19th, nine years ago, on the day of Dawning. The length of the year would be 360 days, each month of 30 days, for a total of 12 months in remembrance of the Moon that held in check the Black Star that drove the Shield, with no leap years. If the majority of Atlanteans so vote, the new calendar would take effect on Ian’s tenth birthday. A vote may be cast at any time by inserting your hand into any porting site and requesting your vote be registered by voice, or by telepathy. For Children too small to reach the palm print, registry will be held at your training session, with the help of your Officers. Paschal has already designed a palm reader to facilitate the process for the youngest ones. Officers are currently issued the device. Please vote in numbers, as the referendum will be valid only if 50% + 1 partake in the vote. All AI are authorised to tally votes. I have been informed Artificial intelligences have already cast their vote. As usual, those in stasis are not involved in the vote."

Harold sat down, sipped water once more then opened the floor for comments, suggestions and other points that might be of general interest. Strangely, very few questions were raised, so the meeting was called to a barely two hours after sext, and everyone returned to their quarters.

***

Sitar left the Throne of the Sun shortly after the meeting had adjourned, and collected the eleven crowned heads that were to undergo their first training with the Fighter Space-Suit, or FSS for short. Dianne of Solon, like the others, looked wearily at the container, wondering how this would work.

"Please have a seat, while we explain things with the projector," began Sitar. "Paschal will cover technical aspects, and Enron will cover life support. I will cover tactics, and Harp, as soon as he is free, will cover magical considerations."

The comfortable seats reclined and the light dimmed, while a cube appeared on the silver screen. Paschal took over the presentation.

"The basic cube measures the volume required to contain our biggest fighter, namely King Typhoon, in his dragon form. It contains a liquid that supplies heat, climate control, oxygen, and energy via diffusion through the intestinal membrane of basic nutrients, which therefore removes the need for waste disposal. The oxygen concentration of the liquid is at 21%, matching atmospheric contents. The initial insertion may give the impression you are drowning as air is replaced by the liquid, but the discomfort is temporary, lasting at most three breathing cycles. The faster you get through the cycles the more rapidly you will feel fine."

The projection showed a closed cube, and Paschal continued. "Initially, the cube has a single form. As it senses its occupant’s body shape, it shrinks to an armour-like container barely one micron over the body of the person wearing it. At that time, the suit establishes contact with the body via specialised interfaces. When the interconnection with the wearer is complete, it is ready to begin operations. In this case, if you look at it, we are talking about a Pegasus, recognisable by its shape and wings. I have slowed the process considerably during this animation, because it is almost instantaneous in real life. The excess liquid is transferred into the outer container, ready for reuse by the next individual getting suited. Yes, this means that the box contains several suits. Each suit imbricates in the outer one, for several thousand layers. This was done to save space, and allow for quick deployment or recall. You will notice that the boarding hall contains a full Legion, layered by Centurie. Do the maths. The deployment of a Legion takes, after some training, less than thirty seconds. Some of the Children have instituted a contest as to whom could deploy the fastest, and the record to beat to deploy a Legion stands at two seconds and a fraction. Some dive in there on the run, and are out of the Hall in the blink of an eye. I think I forgot to mention that, as soon as the suit collapses on a body, it is ported out to its deployment stage. It is not rare to see ten jump from the launch deck one after the other, landing feet first or head first in the suit, to vanish instantly. The liquid has barely the time to begin ejecting from impact another is already inserting himself or herself in the next suit. I found out they push all air out of their lungs and take a huge breath the moment their mouth or nose enters the liquid, thus triggering the cycle."

Paschal sipped on his apple juice and presented the next sequence of images. "This is the FSS outside of the ASS Thebes. Notice it now shows what seems to be a backpack. In it are found propulsion, biological support systems, and communications. Propulsion are of varied form: ion drive, warp, and transwarp drives. The small size of the drives are due to the small size of the warp and transwarp bubbles required for the suits. Also note that the surface of the suit can be set to mimic background radiation, to the point that they become virtually invisible to an outside observer. Weapons include a wide range of ionizing agents, from molecular disruptors to lasers to photon torpedoes; passive weapons include graviton mines, antimatter mines, and nuclear mines. These mines can be left floating in space by the suit without the need to eject them, thus diminishing the risk of detection of their ejection. Sitar will explain later the proper use of each weapon. You can land on a planet with any gravitational index, since the suit auto-compensates and adjusts the inner gravity well to one G."

Another sip of juice later, Paschal concluded his introduction: "Auto-recall technology is implemented. Should you feel overwhelmed by an enemy, or should you lose consciousness or get hurt, the mechanism kicks in and brings you back to Thebes. Controls are simple. Look at the heads-up display and focus on the object of your desires: propulsion, life support, communications, strategic map, weapons; direction is set by where you look. Also, for those with telepathy, telepathic controls are implemented. Enron, life support?"

Enron took over, and explained things simply: "You will never be hungry, never be thirsty, never be cold, never be hot, and never need to worry about evacuation of bodily waste. Everything is recycled, everything is used, everything is optimised. If you land on a planet with life, you are kept isolated with no gas exchange. Once you leave, the mother ship ports you back in the room, leaving anything not of origin behind, so there is no need for long sterilization periods. Your sleep periods will be monitored so the suit does not react to dreams. We are well aware that you have nightmares due to the trauma of our common past, so signs of dream activity are checked and are used to neutralise spurious commands. The autonomy of a suit is a month, but you should never be gone that long. Should the suit detect you are one day off that limit, it will initiate auto-recall. Sensory feedback allow for visual inspection from the atomic to the stellar, with proper filters of choice. You can zoom and magnify several billion times. Visual information covers from the gamma rays to the radio waves and beyond. Thermal signatures can be fed to your body from any wavelength, so you do not need to see behind you to detect a light source, it will, at your choice, be projected on your back. Audio can be obtained from the same sources, so do not hesitate to distribute feedback across sensory systems: tactile, thermal, visual and auditory. Psionic are filtered. You can, if you have such capacity, use telepathic communications, and, for those that are able to port, you can port with the space suit. However, remember that port is best done by line of sight. As we have no knowledge of what we may one day encounter, psionics are blocked for the most part to prevent undue attempt at taking control of your mind. Leave it that way, unless necessity obliges. The view outside of the suit is always by means of polarised cameras, just in case some might try to trigger hypnosis by stroboscopic light. If it occurs, do not hesitate to retaliate with all due force, as we will consider such an attempt as an act of aggression. Be aware that the use of psionic or other means of subtle attack will be recognised by the FSS on-board AI, and be signalled to you by a sound alarm along with pertinent information. Environmental analysis on a planet include life-detection instrumentation, chemical, radiological and thermal analysis. One final note: everything is recorded in triplicate, including communications, commands, sensory flux, even your analysis of the situation. Do not hesitate to comment out loud as well, for the benefit of others. It is vital for us should things turn sour to understand precisely what went wrong so we do not repeat the same error twice. Now it is Sitar’s turn to take the stage."

Sitar took over and displayed all the weapons available. "Some weapons can be ported up to five light-years away, namely the mines. Other weapons must be fired from the FSS. To fire, look at the target, select the weapon and think ‘fire’. I hope I do not need to tell you photon torpedoes are for space use or the need for a massive destruction planet-side. Disruptors are more appropriate for planet-side fighting, as are phasers and lasers. Use lasers to cut through an obstacle, phasers to either disable, stun, or kill, and disruptors to kill; the disruptors are a no-nonsense weapon, and should be used only in situations warranting extreme prejudice. All weapons are incorporated in the space suit, and are in multiple copies. You need not hold anything, thus freeing legs and hands for other tasks. Lasers are useless in high-density atmospheres because their light disperses. Phasers are also affected, but to a lesser degree, as well as disruptors. You have all learned hand-to-hand combat. Once we have had the time to give you the feel of the suits, you will go train in this on the surface of Thebes, outside. The suit not only allows for this, but also multiplies your strength several magnitudes. However, it does not increase your reflexes. Try to train them with games, as your Children have done. Lastly, remember the best battle is the one you do not fight. If there is a way out, take it. Any questions?"

There were many. Dianne asked the question everyone wanted an answer about.

"How do we get out of the suit?"

"Simple: once in the casing box, the suit ejects you by teleportation leaving the liquid contents of your lungs behind and expands back out. It is done at about the same speed as for the boarding process. You noticed everyone is stark naked for this conference? That is how you get in and that is how you get out. Consider this like being reborn to atmospheric conditions," replied Paschal.

"Are we done with questions?" asked Sitar.

"What about psionics?"

"None of you have shown significant psionic abilities, so that part of the talk show will be delayed. Harp is not available as he is supervising another test at the College of Magic. I heard his Ethics class is the nightmare of students, but that the number of Adults failing it was vastly superior to the Children. No more questions?" Enron asked. Since none were forthcoming, Sitar turned off the projector, and brought the 11 recruits to the side of an array of silvery-looking pools.

"Breath out completely, and jump in, preferably head-first. Newcomers usually strangle when they jump because the liquid enters their nasal cavity and they are surprised. The liquid is already at internal physiological temperature, so it will feel slightly warm. Notice we did not feed you and had you drink a liquid that flushed your digestive tract this morning. No, it was not a cold, it was a powerful laxative. By now you are as empty as can be," instructed Enron.

Dianne was the first to jump and she panicked, as did most first-timers. What none of the Boys had mentioned was that the liquid was held in place by a powerful gravitational well. She sank to the bottom, forced to breath the liquid in her lungs. The others could not see what was happening to her; the silvery surface hid anything from view. It was like jumping in a liquid mirror. The others did not do any better, but found they were on Thebes’ surface. Sitar, Paschal and Enron joined them a few seconds later.

"You never told us we would sink!" thundered Dianne.

"Does it change anything? You are now in a suit, breathing a liquid, and alive. Be it as it may, you are beginning your training to recover some usefulness for Thebes," replied Enron. "Focus on what you see. We start with recovering your senses. Look at Thebes and try to analyse its crystal structure by using the extended senses made available to you. Note you can feel the flow of radiation as a slight breeze. The polarised filter can let you measure solar wind direction with a high precision. The fact that you can feel it should tell you we are not in a warp or transwarp bubble. Start using your brains for what it was intended. Learn."

The day was spent explaining all the new information, and everyone slept locked to the surface of the ship. Day in, day out, for a month, the trainees were put into situations that allowed them to explore the FSS and its offensive and defensive capacities.

One morning, everyone hear a beep, and read ‘auto-recall triggering in five minutes’.

"How many of you counted the days? We are 29 days out, and the suit has determined we need to return inside," Enron reminded them.

"What will happen?"

"What I described a month earlier. We are now three minutes to recall. Regroup."

"Come on, move it, one minute to recall!" thundered Paschal.

The trainees moved back to the staging point and stood in line, nervous. Suddenly, they felt cold, and began breathing oxygen again, collapsing on the floor of the reception hall.

"Return to your quarters and rest. We resume training in a week, with flight training!" ordered Paschal.

The last recruit out of the room by portal, the three trainers held a short conference.

"What do you make of them?" asked Sitar.

"A lot of work, but if it works, maybe we will be able to recover the slackers that are living and doing nothing," replied Enron.

"I agree. It is their last chance, and ultimately, these FSS are probably the only thing that will allow them some integration in the new society because it reminds them of their past in a medieval society," Paschal added. "For Dianne, it reminded her of her armour, and she felt secure during these 30 days. I did not look into the minds of the others, as she seemed to take the leadership."

«Enron, we are ready to reinsert the Atlanteans held in stasis. We were waiting for your return.» signalled Colibri.

«I thought we had four more months to go?» Enron answered.

«I brought back a slave driver. While you guys were enjoying a vacation on Thebes Resort Space Beach Front, he mobilised every resource available and sped up the preparations for the reinsertion of the Atlanteans. I am surprised I still have Magic left with the way he ran this ship! I feel like I have been whipped!» replied Ian.

«Admit you liked the way I had just about everyone running mad!»

Ian kept silent, but the mental smirk Harold distributed liberally clearly told everyone that he agreed with Colibri’s assessment!

«We will report to the Hospital with Harp as soon as we have had time to rest, eat some, and prepare.»

«Take your time.»

***

The next morning, discussions resumed on the reinsertion process.

"We have a duplicate of the structures, and a log of where people were when they got ported into stasis pods. By convention, we ported them as they fell asleep, which will allow us to port them back in their beds. They will then be left to wake up on their own. For them, they went to bed, and their circadian cycle is just restarting," Enron informed the assembly.

"Will it take three days?" Annabelle enquired.

"No. Remember, it took us twenty-four hours and we are going to port them phase-shifted so they are all time-aligned to Thebes’ circadian clock. It will create some lack of sleep for most, since Atlantis One had a 25.5 hours rotation period, but nothing to stop them from adapting. Overall, the port will place them on their virtual planet within an hour after ‘sunset’. By the next morning, the ‘Sun’ will rise, matching in spectrum a G5 star. The output will be 225 times faster than the recovery, but this is possible because we do not need to wait on the rotation of the planet to do our stuff. An hour after we begin, everyone should be moved," answered Paschal.

"What about Children?" Iridia wanted to know.

"They are the first moved, and should be the first awake. They will all carry the knowledge of the change and have, for the most part, integrated the data already. It is the Adults that are likely to cause trouble," replied Sitar. "For the Adults, I expect the integration to be felt as a nightmare, but Children will only accept it as a dream. Just in case Adults try to take their frustrations on Children, AI-1 to AI-4 are standing by to intervene by bringing the Adult back in stasis. If violence or physical harm occurs, the Adult will be killed on the spot. Let the other Adults explain this to their narrow views of reality! A yelling match will not produce such a major reaction. Harp, is everything ready?"

"Yes, we are doing last checks They should be completed by vespers. By compline, the process begins, and by an hour later, it is completed."

"Who is in charge?" Harold asked, as he looked at the project managers.

"Colibri. It is his ecosystem project, and the Atlanteans are the last ones to be added to the construction," replied Enron. "We stand to help, but he is in charge of the process."

"Fine by me. Ian, do you have anything to say?"

"No Dad. However, we need to manifest ourselves within 24 hours. I have readied 2,500 legions, ready to take military control of strategic points, including the Imperial palace. Already, weapons of mass destruction have been removed, including bacteriological, nuclear and chemical. Atlantis One military units have been disarmed by removing firing controls. In fact, the weapons are unable to be fired, triggered and otherwise used. I suspect that the military units that were holding an exercise will be in shock come morning! Production of military equipment is also halted for lack of power."

"Ok. Reconvene at sext. It will be T-3 to reinsertion, I expect everyone capable of teleportation to be on standby. You have in your billfold the list of stasis pods assigned for your work with coordinates for destination. Dragons, Royals and all other magical being are mobilised," declared Colibri, taking everyone by surprise with his decisiveness. "We will need to eat a considerable amount of food to have enough reserves. Harp, they go from L9.9 to L9 compression. We need to take this into account."

"I am aware of this Colibri, that is why I did not automate the process. But it is good you remind the others."

"Alea jacta es." noted Enron.

"Thebes?"

"Yes, Colibri?"

"Begin Atlantis One reanimation sequence, pause at T - 30 minutes."

"Acknowledged. Atlantis One reanimation engaged, pause at T – 30 minutes. Expected completion in six hours 45 minutes."

"Report countdown every hour."

"Acknowledged."