The Prophesy: Book 4 - Armageddon

 

"Dunbar, how far are we from our final destination?"

"Let me see One thousand five hundred miles still to reach the Tanganyka. We have covered about that much already."

"That's going to take us another six months to finish."

"I know, Nestor. But what else can we do? We must map the entire basin, ready it for general port, and prevent the Orcs from infiltrating the area. It is slow."

"I like the place, but I am beginning to miss my office at the School of Magic."

"That's what happens when you get too soft. Military life has its advantages: at least you do not risk becoming a couch potato!"

"Tell me!" said Nestor, with a dramatic tone that made the other leaders of the Yamato expedition explode in laughter.

"Where is the inventory?" Yamato asked.

"I'm doing that now Yamato. Give me an hour and I'll have the final numbers for you," replied Williams.

"Do we have many sick?" continued Yamato, as he looked toward Nestor.

"We had to replace about two centuries of foot soldiers by sending them back to Thebes."

"What were the causes?"

Nestor, the medical officer of the expedition, took his notepad out.

"Mostly accidents: trees falling on some, others falling, broken limbs, a lost eye or two, and a dozen idiots who managed to catch malaria by going out of shielded areas or sleeping without nets. Most are out of stasis already, except the last few cases of malaria. The malaria cases were treated by Harp, but he told me there are other issues with the three cases still in stasis. He did not elaborate. Ah yes, a case of Ebola. That one is in cryogenic chamber. The treatment will be more time consuming then malaria given the extensive damage. I think Harp is envisioning complete reconstruction of the body from the genome, much like the process occurring with Greywolf."

"I miss the old wolf, guys. He is a nice warrior. I wonder how things are progressing."

"All I know is the laconic 'on schedule' from Paschal or Harp."

"Have you heard anything concerning that Elf?" Williams wanted to know.

"No, and it's been a week. I'll have to remind Harp to talk to either his dad or Enron about the bastard."

"Maybe it is dealt with already."

"I doubt it, Nestor. I expect Enron will recall me to testify, because this is a major offence," said Yamato. "Not that the guilt is in doubt, and the result unexpected, but the forms must be respected."

Everyone focussed on their current task for the next hour, listening distantly to the sound of the forest around them. There was the occasional growl of a big cat, the noise of monkeys getting disturbed by a predator, the fall of a branch or small tree, the song of the frogs and nocturnal insects, all sounds typical of a forest readying for another bloody night, while the preys huddled in fear and the predators roamed on the hunt.

"I'm finished."

"So, what is the situation with the inventory?"

"We are low on arrows; the food supply is dwindling; water is not an issue, since we clean up our own. Medical supplies also are running short, especially first aid. Nestor uses magic to heal, but he is far less proficient then Harp in this matter. The College of Magic seemed to have been geared to oppose the Keep, and its mages were trained to destroy not to heal."

"Don't look bad for saying out loud what I already know Williams," replied Nestor.

"I have prepared a list and signed the requisition. Yamato, I suggest you write a letter about that Elf addressed to Harp tonight, and I'll include it in the satchel one of us will port to Thebes on Harold's desk."

"I'm sure some paper scribbler must be hopping mad because we send things directly to Harold rather then pass by the standard channels!" noted Dunbar.

"Oh, I'm quite sure of it, knowing how these people inflate their ego with red tape! Some must be wanting to blow steam at the princes' arses for their hands on approach to everything!" Williams added.

"Sometimes, I wish we had a newspaper. It would be fun to read how one or the other prince dealt with these insufferable living obstacles to speedy action."

"Nestor, forget it! It's not that I wouldn't like the gossip, but there is a difference between having a good laugh at the royal pranks to kick pen-pushers in the balls and having to deal with news reporter that believe the 'right to know' of the public includes the 'right to search in your pants while you still wear them'," replied Yamato.

"I admit the Imperial Administration is getting a little too complaisant with itself, infused with its importance. Knowing the Royal Family, there must be some teeth grinding," said Nestor, as he smiled remembering one of the numerous pranks his favourite grandson had done to his own management; yet the College was a tiny drop compared to the tentacular Imperial Administration.

"What makes you smile?" asked Yamato as he noticed the myrrh in Nestor's old face.

"I was remembering one of Harp's pranks. He was pissed at all the forms and stuff the pissers tried to impose on magic, and he decided to fill all the required forms with invisible ink. And I mean all the forms. It was a blank check if I ever saw one. The moment someone began to write in a form, his signature appeared at the bottom, with a general authorisation to do any and all exercises. The control freaks were furious!"

"Ian isn't much better, Nestor. The boy wanted to practice with his kid-sized bow and arrows and the quartermaster didn't recognise him, so he said no. The quartermaster's butt ended as target for the prince," said Yamato, laughing his arse off.

"The best prank I've seen was the smurf one. Paschal had been dealing with a bunch of stubborn clerks that kept telling him how he had designed a building! He told them to go home and think who had really designed the place and that all their blue blood would leak out of their body if they continued throwing titles at him. The next morning, they had to report and they were a vibrant blue from head to foot. He had made sure their water supply contained a permanent blue ink in it."

"So, that's why we had an episode of blue 'fever' in the administration!" said Nestor, as he looked at Williams. "The mages must have spent countless hours trying to figure out what was the cause! The customers kept saying they were losing their nobility and refering to a curse on their blue blood! The mages and the healers tried to explain that blue blood was not a mark of nobility, but it entered one ear and exited the other."

"Just how did you learn of that one?" asked Yamato.

"Paschal told us what he had done at breakfast that morning," replied Williams.

"I wonder if Sitar ever did a prank. That boy looks so serious all the time!" wondered Nestor.

"Oh yes!"

"Explain, Yamato."

"We were training a group of tenderfeet in the obstacle course, and one of the officers was berating recruits like there was no tomorrow. He acted like he could run the obstacle course like it was a walk on the sidewalk. Sitar was watching the whole thing from the side, and decided to ask the man to demonstrate his own performance so the others could see it was really easy to do. The first was the horizontal ladder. However hard the man tried to hold to them, his hands slipped. The next exercise was the rabbit hole jump. The man fell on his knees every two jump. Then came the cable and wall climb. That one was hilarious. The guy gripped the rope and tried to pull himself up. He could reach halfway, then the rope would slip between his hands and he would fall back on his butt. He made it to the top after the twentieth time, only to fall face first in the small moat on the other side. The last part of the race was the hurdle and pool: he tried to run it rather then give up. As he jumped over each hurdle it would grow, move forward or otherwise find a way to be hit. The guy made it through and took a dive for the pool, only to jump right back out: a couple of sharks were racing for him from the other end! The man looked at Sitar reproachfully but the boy had that angelic look. 'Who? Me? I saw nothing! I did nothing!' was written all over his face, with that halo around the head but tiny little horns on the forehead gave him away."

"What did that accomplish?"

"Teach the man to be more respectful of the efforts of others even if they were not up to his expectations. He became a much better instructor after that."

"I thought Sitar was a tough instructor?"

"He is, but he is also respectful of the efforts of his trainees. He knows he can't ask someone to go beyond a certain level, and adjusts each exercise so a person has a feeling of accomplishment. He believes that a good word, even in a failure, can drive someone to succeed more effectively then ridiculing the person. And he gets more out of his recruits then that trainer ever did. I saw him lift a man twice his size and carry him along the ladder while the man tried to swing from one rung to the next. At the end, the man collapsed, crying like a baby. It was shocking, but Sitar knelt beside the man and held him like a little kid. The next day, the man succeeded. I think he would have faced fire itself rather then give up."

"I never thought Sitar would get involved with trainees. He is so much beyond anyone else in military prowess."

"I know. But I think he is aware of that and doesn't expect anyone to ever be able to match him. He looks at each trainee with compassion and seems to say is 'all I ask is that you do your utmost best' and they do it. I've seen him extract the last bit of juice out of a trainee, and the person was ecstatic, almost orgasmic in having done something to please Sitar. I just wish I had one part per billion of that kind of charisma."

"That is why we all try to do like they do, and I include all the royals in that. Each and every one of them is giving his best all the time and that is what differentiates the rulers from the leaders; they lead. That guy you were talking about was a ruler in making, Yamato, not a leader, a potential desk chair general. I doubt he would have gone anywhere with that attitude in the kingdom."

"I know, Williams. He has been sitting in that position from well before the legion moved into the Elvin Kingdom, and I think he was passing his frustration on the poor trainees. Sitar saw to it that the guy understood physically why it was so."

Everyone headed to bed for the night, as the next day promised to be a difficult one. More rapids lay ahead, with some serious falls to overcome.

***

"So, how did the displacement of the Spiders proceed last night?" asked Dunbar.

"There were some grumblings, but that was all. They know they have it easy in these armoured vehicles. And you, did you port the satchel?"

"Yes. I did at midnight; everyone was asleep except the night shift, so I could take the proper trance to do a long-distance port. It's now in the hands of Harold, who was busy at his desk when it popped on it."

"You seem preoccupied?"

"Yes, well, I think we will receive a recruit shortly "

"We do not need one."

"Tell that to Harold. His self-proclaimed secretary tried to grab the satchel right in front of him and I heard Harold order him to get equatorial clothing."

"He could end up with Ian "

"I doubt it; Ian would probably feed the insufferable git to piranhas rather then put up with him."

"I might decide to imitate Ian."

"We do not have piranhas "

"We got crocodiles!"

"True."

Just as breakfeast came to a close, the unmistakable pop of a port occurred outside the tent.

"I think I should have taken a bet with you Williams."

"As if I would do so with the guy that can invariably win at the dice without even using magic. I may be dumb, Yamato, but I'm not stupid!"

"Let's go meet the last victim of Harold's temper," suggested Dunbar.

The three Atlanteans walked out of the command tent and saw a guy wearing a freshly minted equatorial uniform. He looked lost, and was already sweating profusely in the hot humid air. His legs were ghostly white, and his kilt was soaked, clinging to his butt at every move. The thoracic plates seemed to boil on him, and his colonial hat was tucked on his head backward. He wore no medals or indication of military grade. His eyes darted in all directions, and he was shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"That promises to be a pain in the butt. His face tells me he isn't too happy at his demotion. If he thinks he can climb the ladder of power with that attitude, he better think again."

"I suspect that guy's got a lot of explaining to do. That kind of individual in position of power is a danger to society," said Dunbar. "What do you plan to do with him Yamato?"

"Put him in the front line, that's what. He's going to lose that belly of his faster then he can fart!"

"And his life " added Dunbar.

"That's a side-benefit, yes."

Turning to a sentry, Yamato pointed to the newcomer.

"See to it he gets incorporated in the advanced foot patrols immediately after he has been assigned to a unit, corporal. And if he tries to give you grief, you have my express permission to knock some sense into the man."

"He won't live a day, sir."

"That's the point, corporal. He pissed off Harold enough to end up here on a six-hour notice. I do not plan to bring his carcass back to Thebes."

"Ah, I see. Crocodile lunch. Very well."

The corporal walked off and less then a minute later, was yelling at the man about his uniform. The corporal had an eye for badly set uniforms, and did not miss a single mistake. The man had to strip right there and put back his uniform in the middle of the camp's open field a dozen times before the corporal was satisfied. All this had been accompanied by a constant string of swear words, and a couple of gut punches when the guy opened his mouth to protest, and a superb uppercut when he tried to snub the corporal.

"Are you sure he will survive to his first patrol, Yamato?"

"Maybe not. And the sergeant at arms has yet to inspect his weapons and his backpack. That promises to do some fireworks!"

"Given the sergeant's resounding voice, we will know. He can be heard right across camp even in his best days!" Nestor said.

Another plop was heard and a royal mail satchel appeared at the foot of the discussing officers.

"Ah, the royal mail. The red cap tells me there is a priority mail in the package. Let's go see to it."

Mail was distributed quickly between the superior officers, and then the common enlisted men's mail was distributed as everyone had breakfeast.

Yamato was reading his mail when he let out a series of swear words that made the others bleach.

"What's the problem?" Dunbar asked.

"That arsehole intercepted mail from the lower ranks for months before Harold caught his little shanigans. Harold did a mental scan and has been fixing decisions the guy took on his shoulders that were not in the best interest of the Kingdom. He has even dared intercept Harold's mail and counter his orders. It seems he is the tip of the iceberg in a clique that has silently been trying to usurp Harold and the Royals. He has included a copy of the mails destined to us that had been falsified or intercepted by that group. And he has retrieved from the Black Pyramid the copies of our reports these individuals had intercepted."

"What are his orders?" asked Williams.

"Dispose of him by any means necessary. He does not want that garbage back in the Kingdom, not even as fertilizer."

"What about the other conspirators?" Nestor completed.

"They are being rounded up. From what I get, they will be ported to the nearest Orc feeding ground to fend for themselves. Harold did not want to burden us with an unnecessary load. He says he will hold the Orc food until we are ready to attack their next nest so they are too fed up to put up a real fight!"

"I wonder how many we are talking about, here."

"Williams, from Harold's comments on feeding an Orc nest until they get stuffed, I would say a few thousand."

"We got some reading to do. I counted one hundred and forty amended orders," Dunbar said.

"Get on it, I'll get the sergeant at arms to tell him camp will not be moving today," said Yamato, who called a sentry and sent him on a search for the Voice of Thunder, as the sergeant was nicknamed.

Just then a string of curses left a tent in the far reaches of the camp, creating a lot of activity in the surrounding forest that was perturbed by the sudden sound.

"I don't think your courier will need to look much to find the man! Even a blind man would know where he is!" Dunbar said, as the string of curses continued.

Five minutes later the cursing stopped.

"Lost and found!" said Williams.

Another five minutes later, the sergeant at arms stood in the tent, his giant stature impeccable as always.

"Reporting as asked," said the sergeant as he saluted the superior officers.

"Sergeant, take a seat. We got news from the Kingdom, and it concerns you."

"All right, sir."

The man sat in the biggest chair available, which threatened to collapse under his mass.

"First, read this letter from the Emperor. You will have a better understanding of what will follow. And please, try to refrain from yelling or even talking until you are done. I need my hearing, today."

The giant man grinned, but his face quickly lost his jovial look as he perused the Imperial letter. A series of emotions played on his face as he read it, alternating from chalk white to deep purple. His jaws were so tight Nestor worried he would break a couple of teeth. As the paper began smouldering under the sergeant's gaze, Nestor commented gently.

"I would cool these eyes off if I were you. Destroying imperial correspondence isn't so well seen, even if we understand your feelings."

The sergeant blinked and noticed the smoking parchment.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Just wait until you are out of the tent before blowing a fuse. We need it for another six months!"

"Where do we start?"

"Well, you continue blasting heat on that guy's bum. We are currently sorting orders by priority. We won't be moving today, so you have a full day to turn the heat on, and I mean on, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes Prince Legatus. Believe me, he will try to dive for the crocodiles before sundown."

"I'm sure he will. Just be sure he doesn't succeed. That guy might give an indigestion to a crocodile, and I have nothing against the poor animals."

"All right, sir."

"I'll see you at sext with the orders sorted by priority. In the meanwhile have fun!"

"Thank you sir."

"Dismissed!"

The sergeant saluted, did an about face and walked out of the tent. As he walked across camp, everyone figured something was up, and made every effort to stay out of his way as the ground shook under his feet. Five minutes later, the curses began anew, but this time, even the most hardened legionnaires began shaking in their sandals. The Mouth of Thunder was in a particularly resplendent form, and the collection of new swear words proved the sergeant had a vast knowledge of life and its secrets!

Dunbar set a silencing charm around the tent so they could focus on the Royal mails. By sext, all was sorted into five piles: Reassignments, promotions, demotions, marching orders, and recalls to Thebes with a list of replacements that would report over the afternoon. Also included in the orders was the recall for the testimony of Yamato in the Elf affair, effective for a day, a week later. That one was a case of blatant interception, because the coup masterminds feared Yamato would smell their rotten shit in time to intercept their work.

***

Sext came and went. The level of activity in the camp, which had lulled since the order had come from above that they were staying put, suddenly increased as the orders were distributed.

Units came and went, some were sent back to Thebes, others came as replacement, while others did patrols around the camp, including one containing a very pissed recruit. His hot temper made him particularly attractive to mosquitoes, and they took to his sagging butt with an appetite worthy of a vampire that had gone without food for a thousand years. There were also leeches, and all sorts of crawling insects that kept inserting themselves between his feet and his sandals, making him miserable at every step. When the night came, he crashed like a ton of bricks only to be woken up by the Decurion with a gallon of water.

"Wash up, you pig! You smell so bad the shit fleas are looking at you with a devouring envy! There is a column of dung beetles coming across camp and headed your way!"

The man stripped, and his physical condition showed, even in the dancing light of the fire at the entrance of the tent. His entire lower butt was thick with mosquito bites, his socks, torn to shreds because he had not bothered doubling them to reduce friction, revealed leeches bloated with blood between his toes, and there were enough worms in the wounds to feed a colony of birds.

The socks were disposed of, and the rest of the clothes washed to be let dry during the night, as much as possible, given it rained continuously the moment the sun went down. The man was invited to wash up in the pool. What he did not expect is how it burned to jump in a saline solution, which was the only way to kill all the skin parasites that managed to wedge their way even for the best trained legionnaire, which certainly was not his case.

After barely eating, which did not bother the Decurion since the man had enough lard to survive a month without food, the recruit headed to his bed, where he promptly lost consciousness. It had been less then four hours since he had fallen off the surface of the world when the Decurion waked him rudely.

"It is nearing matins, buster. We are on the matins to lauds guard shift. Get up and get ready to patrol the camp, you lazy git!"

"I've not slept for twenty-four hours!"

"You slept almost four hours, fucker! Get moving before I throw you in the fire pit to wake you up!"

The man stood shakily on his legs, then crashed face first on the ground, unable to stand on his inflamed feet.

"I can't stand "

"Report to the Medical tent. I want you back here before the shift begins, is that clear?"

The man did not reply, and the Decurion lifted him off the ground by the neck.

"I asked you if it was clear and I expect an answer!"

"Yes sir! It is clear sir!"

The Decurion dropped him back on the floor and the man, still unable to walk, crawled out of the tent on all fours, headed for the medical tent. It took him half the shift to get there, but no one offered a helping hand. The knowledge of is actions against the Kingdom had spread like wildfire, and many would have murdered him right on the spot if the instructions from the Sergeant at Arms had not been so clear: let him fend for himself, do not interfere. Let nature take its course.

The man made it to the medical tent, and got his feet fixed to return groggily to the tent where his stuff was. He barely had stepped inside that the Decurion got on his case.

"I said before the shift started, not half-way through! You will do a full shift, or I'll bust you a nut! Get dressed!"

The man made slow progress in getting ready, and by the time he was done, he was sleepwalking, totally oblivious to his environment. He began walking in circles, changing directions at irregular intervals, and overall, being totally useless. As prime neared, he collapsed behind a fallen tree and fell asleep. No one bothered searching for him when the camp moved. His packsack was left behind in case he showed up, but everything else was moved, including the tent that he had shared with the decade.

The man slept fitfully during the entire day, and woke up an hour before the sun was due to set. As he regained consciousness and his bearings, he realised he was totally alone. The camp had vanished, and he had no idea where everyone had gone. He made it back to where his tent had been, as he could see the backpack lying on the ground where the dirt had been packed by the mobile shelter. He picked up the backpack and began foraging for food. He missed several occasions to eat decently, as he did not recognize the miniature bananas for what they were, nor an avocado tree or, for that matter, the giant mango tree he had slept under. He also missed the best spots to find drinkable water, and began to drink from stagnant pool. The ultimate mistake was to decide to go downriver rather then up; had he taken the right decision, he might have caught up with the next campsite during the night, but instead walked away from potential salvation.

As darkness settled in, the man heard the roars of animals all around him. As he had not planned for a fire, he found no dry wood, and the deep darkness of the underbrush caught him off guard. Unable to see more then a foot ahead of his position, he made for the nearest tree and crouched under it, in the hope that darkness would protect him from predators large and small. All the survival training he had scoffed upon was now sorely missed. He shivered, endured the thousand torments of insect bites, and was kept awake for most of the night by sounds he could not identify, from the crack of a falling branch to the simple sound of a falling drop of water in a pool. As the night fell, the equatorial forest was again drenched by the nightly rain, which percolated to the man's precarious shelter, keeping him wet from head to foot.

He made it through the night, but by morning, he was delirious. As he came from under his sheltered pile of dead wood, he met his fate. A big cat had been following him slowly since he had been left alone, waiting for the proper time to strike. As the man crawled out of the shelter, it jumped from an overhanging branch and snapped his neck. The feline then pulled the corpse high in a tree to let it rest over a branch, thus preventing scavenging animals from gaining access to its hard-won meal.

***

Meanwhile the camp had made progress further up the Congo River. The Orc nests had yet to be found, but Yamato was sure his tactic would give the expected results. He was preparing to move another centurie further into the savannah when the armoured infantry officers reported contact with a series of Orc patrols. The instructions were clear: tickle but do not engage. The Orcs were to be forced to back away with minimal losses so they could report their encounters.

The first contacts were so lopsided that barely an Orc made it out of the meeting, much to Yamato's frustration.

"Hey, at least some did survive. You know it takes only one report for the Orcs to be out, we'll see what happens."

Dunbar's comments turned out to be prophetic, as a huge horde came out of nowhere to face the spiders. The battle turned a lot more interesting for Yamato as he put to test his hypothesis. The Orcs did put a lot more resistance when the Spiders began to walk toward the sunset. Distributing his Spiders in a wide ark, Yamato began pushing in that direction. By vespers the Spiders had made little progress, but Yamato had gained a fairly good idea of the nest's location. He had managed to circumscribe it to an area less then twenty miles in circumference, centred on a granitic protrusion dating from a dead volcano.

"I think we're in business. I've pulled out the Spiders to let the Orcs believe we desist from battle. In all logic they should retire to their nest and leave only increased patrols outside."

"When will the King move the traitors in place?"

"Dunbar, they are being armed. Hey, if they kill a few thousand Orcs trying to save their hide, I've got nothing against it. They will be ported at the crack of dawn here. That will give them a better fighting chance."

"I never thought Harold would show such mercy to traitors."

"Williams, he is giving them a chance to regain in death their honour. They have betrayed the Vow of Fealty, and death is the penalty. They know it, we know it, and the Emperor knows it; that cannot be changed. However, fighting bravely, and dying on the field of battle for the kingdom is a way to mitigate that dishonour."

"I wonder how Enron will deal with the Elf?"

"That Elf will probably wish he had been included in this type of punishment. I heard Enron is hoping mad."

"Poor Elf!"

"Who? Enron?"

"No, the Black mage."

"I agree with you, Nestor. I will ask to be dispensed from seeing the punishment. I do not want to be sick for a month."

"So will I!" said the three others.

***

The traitors had put a very convincing fight, but had lost, as had been expected. The Orcs, already starved by the Ark project's constant plucking of life forms, were enchanted by the manna they got out of the battle: five thousand five hundred of their own, and an additional two thousand enemies. They effectively also killed all their own wounded adding another ten thousand to their feast. The result was as expected. Everything was eaten in the same evening, as everyone had the first good meal in months. Everyone fell asleep in the nest, and even the guards that were to watch the area from the top of the granitic cone were so sleepy they retreated into the passages sure they had won a great victory.

As matins poked around, a Dragon dropped Nestor on the rock's top. The mage first did a quick survey of the surrounding area, seeing a spark in the distance marking the fallback position should he be discovered. Once he had assessed this, he began using mage sight to determine the location of the nest.

His first scan revealed the entrance to the nest from the top and the presence of a dozen sleeping Orcs. Then, pushing deeper, he saw the three-dimensional maze the Orcs had carved inside the volcanic extrusion, a maze that included sleeping quarters, armoury, birthing, training rooms, and the mess, currently the most occupied by sleepy Orcs trying to digest their last meal, in more ways then one, thought Nestor with irony.

Once these areas were identified, Nestor marked their location using a special paint that shone if exposed to magic. The markings indicated concentration, depth, and location. Yet, not all was done. Nestor began marking escape routes and hidden exit doors. The last stage was marking ventilation and cooling towers that let the nest's heat escape and ensured the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide. Some of these tunnels went right through the entire nest like chimneys, from top to bottom, while others were slanted at a steep angle. Before suddenly going down or becoming horizontal. Nestor was surprised at the quality of the nest's design, wondering if the notion of 'primitive' was not a prejudice from the Atlanteans. That nest showed a remarkable attention to efficiency, even if it did have design flaws he could sense. Paschal would have loved to see this.

«I do, Nestor. And I agree. This is remarkable. It is too bad we are on a path to a war of mutual extermination. It is so sad. This nest reminds me of the termites' own construction. It even has a cooling mechanism. I am drawing the plan of the nest as you scan, so we do not lose that knowledge.»

«Maybe we could keep a genetic mapping, my lord?»

«We are. However, this is cultural, not genetic, and it is not preserved by mapping genes, but by mapping artefacts. That is why what you are doing is precious. As you map, I rebuild in one of the tessaracts, to full scale. I just wish we could save some Orcs.»

«Maybe we can. There is a nursery.»

«Again, that would save Orcs, but not their culture, not who they are as a people.»

«My lord, maybe we could do something still. Putting them in cryogenic chambers, at least those that represent their craftsmen, and their children, would go a long way in preserving their culture; the social mores that make them our hereditary enemies could be reprogrammed. We need not preserve everything, especially not their hatred of us and their feeding habits.»

«I will talk to dad. Give me a few minutes.»

Fifteen minutes later, the decision fell. A select stratum of the Orcs would be ported while still asleep in cryogenic chambers for reconditioning, as well as the youngsters, including the newborns. The rest would end their lives that night. In all a hundred thousand Orcs were moved over the next few hours.

By lauds, Nestor ported to the marker in the distance. It was time, as the sleepy Orcs were beginning to stir.

"What took you so long?" asked Yamato. "We were worried."

"I came to an agreement with the metropolis. We have been spending the past three hours porting a select few Orcs into cryogenic chambers for reconditioning. The nest is all yours."

"I see. I wish I had been consulted, Nestor."

"Let me show you what I discovered before roaring."

Nestor transferred his discoveries about the nest, and what had transpired.

"I understand. We will have to be more careful during the next nest; there is no guarantee all nests are identical; there may be cultural differences worth preserving."

"Paschal made the same comment, so we do have a green light to investigate Orc culture before flattening it to smithereens."

"Let's get to work. Williams, you lead the Pegasuses on the first wave. I want dive-bombing of these ventilation passages and of the exit doors. Nestor counted fifty vertical shafts, a good hundred slanted ones, and thirty assault and evacuate doors. Spread the load accordingly. If you miss, do a second pass. Target the doors first."

"All right!"

"Dunbar, you lead the dragons in deep-bombing. Your objectives are respectively the mess hall and the sleeping quarters in priority. Then you bring the rock to collapse."

"Ok."

"I will lead the Spiders. Our objective is to make sure no Orc escapes. They will come in third, once the air offensive is halted. They will climb through the rubble to make sure not a single Orc escaped. By the way, Nestor, did you think of porting females?"

"Yes. It seems they are the artists in the Orc population; they do what is considered art by the Orcs. We picked the most representative and the best of them."

"OK. Move out. Nestor, you have command of the base camp until I return. Williams, use subsonic gliding approach. No use waking them up until the first bomb hits."

The rest of the night was hectic for the Atlanteans, and disastrous for the Orcs. Their nest, in appearance indestructible, collapsed on itself like a card castle. They had weakened the granite too much by removing a fair share of its original mass. The result was a cascade of catastrophic structural failures as walls buckled under the impact and exploded, collapsing ceilings on the occupants below. The first rays of the sun revealed a pile of rubbish several hundred feet high, The Spiders found numerous corpses, but not a single living Orc. Some had come close to reaching salvation, but the sudden conversion of the doors into shrapnel due to the precision bombing of the Pegasuses had taken its toll. The only sounds heard from the rubble by the very sensitive sensors of the Spiders were falling debris deep inside the trash pile. However hard they tried, the Spiders could not detect a single heartbeat, or any noise indicative of life.

"One nest disposed of. I do not know how many there are, but we now have to resume our progress to the source of the Congo. Let's hope we won't have to do this too often."

***

The next few days were rather anticlimactic. The Yamato expedition progressed ever deeper in the forest, marking it extensively for ulterior porting. Yamato reported to testify against the Black Elf, and decided to talk to Enron, as he saw the very foreboding and dark face of the Elf King after his testimony.

"Enron, I need to talk to you," began Yamato, dancing on two feet from nervousness.

"Sure, come along, I need to take a swim to cool off. Would you care to join me?"

"That would be fine, Enron. I do feel like I've been living in an open-sky oven for the past six or seven months."

The two men made it to the pool, and Enron took a head dive in the frigidarium, which boiled off instantly on contact, converting the rather vast room into a first class hot sauna.

"You could have given me the chance to taste cold water! Now, I feel I'm right back where I was a few hours ago!"

"Oh, sorry!"

Enron ported a full pool of water extracted from under the ice sheet that now covered lake Ontario.

"Here you are. I'll let you freshen up, I may have to do that five or six times before I get my temper under control."

It did take several cold-water pools for Enron to get his temper under control long enough for the water to stay in the pool more then a minute. After several dozen cycles, Yamato was beginning to wonder if his request might not cost him his head. But before he could even consider backing out of the foolish idea that had germinated in his sensitive heart, Enron turned to him.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Enron, I know you are pissed at the Black Mage's betrayal "

"You can say that again!"

"But I feel it is my duty to remind you that justice is best served by fairness, not by useless cruelty."

"May I remind you, in turn, that this is none of your business, Prince Yamato?"

"It may not be my business, but it remains my duty. The laws are clear: he must die, and that is acceptable. However, there is the question of the means."

"That is my business."

"As long as it does not mar Atlantis, King Enron. Be fair, not vengeful."

"I have no lesson to receive from you."

"No, but do not displease Harold. He might not take too lightly to abusive use of power, however close he is to you and your family, King Enron. He expects more of you then a spiteful little boy. Do not let him down for petty vengeance."

"He had these traitors killed, did he not?"

"By sending them to battle so they could die with honour. There is a considerable difference between butchery and justice. Even the leader of the palace coup was given a chance to regain his honour. That he failed to do so does not in any way diminish Harold's effort at bringing fair closure to the events. In fact, their family is grateful to Harold for giving their loved ones a chance to earn their honour back on the battlefield."

"That mage has no family."

"He does."

"Ah? Who?"

"You! You are his king, his Alpha, his Father. Act the way you plan to, and it's readable on your face even if your mind was not crying it out loud, and you dirty your own family's memory! And it does not stop there. You shame Atlantis as well. Is that what you wish to do?"

At Yamato's comment, Enron retched and dumped his dinner on the floor of the frigidarium. Understanding the king's mental state, Yamato banished the residue and produced a glass of icy water so Enron could rinse his mouth.

"What do you suggest?"

"It is not my place to suggest anything."

"Cut it out! You opened your big mouth, then out with it!"

"He is a mage. You are one as well. Defy him in battle. You will win, and he will lose. We both know it, especially since Harp has just about destroyed his magical core. In fact, I suggest you fight him without using magic. It would be more honourable on your part."

"I'll give it some thought."

"That is all I ask."

"Was it Harold that asked you to talk to me?"

"First, I can think by myself; second, you should know by now that when Harold has something to say, he doesn't send anyone else to say it. He would have blasted you a lot more then I did. I think he was hoping you would think things out by yourself, but I knew better. You have this stubborn streak combined with a tendency to harbour resentment in you. Stubbornness can be a good thing in war, but is totally inappropriate under other circumstances. These are such circumstances. As for resentment, it is spending energy on a lost cause. You can get your message across by acting with nobility, rather than childishly. Let me be clear: acting nobly is acting with restraint, but not weakness. You have shown decisiveness when it came the time to take the mantle of regent, and you built yourself a solid reputation as someone with a relatively level head. King Enron, reputations are hard to build but easily lost. Remember that in your future musings. Acting with unbridled cruelty would diminish you not only in the eyes of your subjects, who would see in you a Franz of Sophia in power, but also in the eyes of Harold. I doubt you would like to see in his eyes questions about your aptitude to lead your people."

"You do not chew on your words, Yamato."

"Of course not, Enron. If I did I would not be holding the current position I do in this political and military structure. Harold does not put up with grovelling, and you, of all those around, should know it by now. It is also because of your own strength of character that he has been backing you up. Do not forget it."

"I will render my judgement on the case in a week, Yamato. I need to think on what you said. Do not be surprised to be called back here to hear the decision."

"That is fine by me. I have to go back to base camp. It is almost dawn there, and we have another long day ahead of us."

"Ok. I'll sit in here for a while to think things out. The number of vapour explosions must have pushed away most if not all of the usual visitors, and I need the quiet."

Yamato ported directly to base camp, hoping that Enron would come to the right conclusion.

He met the other three leaders of the expedition and told them what had happened with Enron.

"You took considerable risk with Enron. He does have a hot temper."

"And a short fuse."

"I know guys. Let's get moving. Williams, would you mind commanding the move? I need to sleep, and I will do so in my Spider while we progress. A couple of hours in the net will suffice. I will set it to follow yours."

"That's fine by me. I suggest you move into your Spider right away and strap up. It will be an hour before we move. The Mouth of Thunder is not yet awake, but the first rays of the sun will bring him out in full force. I doubt you need to hear him."

"I agree. See you by tierce, guys."

Yamato went to bed, and fell asleep immediately.

***

Figure 2: An Australopithecus Regressi

The team made its way another one hundred miles within the forest over the next four days. The progression was getting difficult, as the forest's density was getting worse. The Atlanteans were taking a break near a stream when one of the advanced team called up to the leaders.

«I think I've spotted a very strange Orc.»

«Just how strange, legionnaire?»

«It looks like a small Orc but totally hairless. It's foraging for food on the ground, but seems to be a tree-dweller otherwise, if I can judge for its arms' length and its strange feet.»

«Is it aggressive?»

«It's vegetarian, and seems to just keep an eye on us. We have been eyeing each other suspiciously, but it has yet to show aggressive behaviour. We are about fifty feet from its current location.»

«Ok. Hold position, we are porting behind you.»

Dunbar, Yamato and Williams silently appeared behind the tree that hid the two scouts.

What they saw totally took them by surprise. Sitting on his hunches, looking at them with pensive eyes, they saw what looked like an Orc, but a totally hairless one. His skin was pinkish grey, as if a very fine duvet was covering him.

«That looks rather peaceful. What did you see so far?»

«Apart from eating the fruits which it had been carrying, we saw nothing much. It's been jacking off on and off, totally ignoring our presence.»

«Is that why it looks so engorged?»

«No, it's soft now. It triples in size when it sticks up. If I had that equipment, my wife would probably divorce out of fright.»

«Have you seen others?»

«No. But there must be others. The forest has been very quiet in the last ten minutes. It's like it's expecting a predator and no one wants to be on the menu.»

A deep growl came from some distance away, confirming the legionnaire's comment. There was a predator on the hunt. The forest became even more silent, like it expected the death of one of its inhabitants. The Atlanteans themselves kept totally still, as they did not necessarily want to attract the big cat's attention.

A mere five minutes later, a black panther emerged on their left side from the foliage and began eyeing the group. It first saw the Atlanteans, whose armour glistened in the changing light; and then it saw the other prey, fifty feet from the Atlanteans. Between a known, lone prey and a group of five unknown ones, the choice was easy to make. It began to move toward the lone figure that shivered as it saw death approaching.

«What do we do?» asked Williams.

«I don't get why it's not moving,» said Yamato.

«It's sacrificing itself for the troop! I just spotted a family and juveniles in that tree behind it! That cat would easily gain access and corner an entire family if it was allowed to climb up there!» replied Dunbar.

«That nails it. We intervene.»

«As if that was ever in doubt from the start, Yamato.»

«Bite my arse, Williams.»

«Oh, aren't you the kinky one this afternoon! I'll leave that to the black cat!» replied Williams with a mental raspberry.

As the panther began to get ready to spring, Yamato stood up and nonchalantly pointing a finger toward the panther, said in a strong voice:

"Stupefy!"

The cat froze on the spot. Yamato, followed by Dunbar and the others, walked calmly and silently toward the now hard as steel feline.

The group began examining the cat, much to the surprise of their now totally dumbfounded observer.

"It's a young male, probably two years old, without a fixed territory. He has enough fleas to eat up a carpet. He has a bite wound that is healing, probably due to getting pushed away by his mother when she became expectant. If it had been a fight, the bites would be deeper and more numerous."

"Let's send him to the Ark. It will deprive the fleas of lunch and he will get patched up in a stasis chamber."

To the utmost amazement of their passive observer, the black cat disappeared from sight. He began looking around nervously, trying to find the foe of his species. But as the forest began to get noisy again, he realised that the cat had indeed gone somewhere else.

"Should we try to communicate with that?"

"I wish, Nestor, but I do not have the mental flexibility or the range the other royals have."

"Neither do I."

"Let me offer food. A big hand of bananas should do it," said Dunbar. He materialised a banana hand and deposited it in plain sight. Then the Atlanteans retired twenty feet from their position.

It took twenty minutes for the still leery animal to move forth grab the banana bunch and peel one before eating it. After that it ate all eight in quick succession, clearly demonstrating that it liked the offering. Once it had finished it dropped the banana peels and went back under the tree to its observation post.

The Atlanteans moved forward, and did a quick genetic analysis from the bits of hair that had stuck on the inside of the banana peel. The result was a shocker! There, in front of them, was not an arc, but a human! It had ninety-nine point nine percent of the human genome but the expression of the genes had been changed by subtle modifications of the genome keys! Either it was the beginning of the Orc project, or its conclusion, but the result was stunning. As soon as the news reached Thebes, a change of priority was transmitted back: locate and transfer every specimen along with full necessary information to sustain and breed them.

Harp appeared within the Atlantean group and began scanning the region by using the specimen's biological signature. The results were as stunning as the discovery itself. There were several hundred groups, mostly composed of a male, a dozen or less females, and juveniles, dispersed across the forest over several hundred square miles. Each group occupied somewhere from one to two square miles, depending on available resources. And there were groups of young pubescent males that roamed freely the entire range, composed of from ten to twenty-five individuals and led by an older male. Apparently this animal, which Harp dubbed Australopithecus Regressi, was family-oriented and each family occupied a specific territory protected from predators and competitors by a dominant male and others, probably the first males born of mating or friends taken from the pubescent period.

The total absence of sexual dimorphism between males and females showed that the females were not infeodated to the males and held their own within the family. The rest of the social studies would have to wait for a later date, but the study of required diet had to be done immediately. It became apparent that they were not solely vegetarian as had thought the legionnaire. Some would eat insects, while others would kill lizard and rodents and eat them raw. The presence of primitive tools, namely primitively chiselled bifaces cut out from flint by repeated controlled impacts, and the use of grass to fish out insects or of rock hammers to break fresh water shells confirmed the genetic mapping.