Galactica: Book 1 - Via Lactea

 

While Thebes waited for the reanimation cycle to complete for the population of Atlantis One held in stasis pods, the Royals met feverishly with those that had been outside doing FSS training to update them on the decisions taken so far.

"Sitar," began Harold, you are first concerned by these decisions, and some feedback is required from you so as to adjust how things will proceed."

"Oh?"

"Well, you are the God of War of Atlantis, Son, and even if it is not, per se, a war we are engaged in, it is pretty damn close. We are in effect kicking the Imperial family of Atlantis One in the butt and telling them they are irrelevant. I doubt they will take the nosedive lightly."

"There is not much they can do Dad, we actually disarmed them, and just about removed their military industry by discreetly disabling the production chains so it will take them forever to fix. That is one of the reasons we delayed reanimation so much, so we could actually walk on them and their only fire power would to to piss on us."

"That is true, but we must show even more that we mean business. This is why I have asked your brothers to plan a show of force the likes of which Atlantis One shall never have seen."

"I understand. What are the principal points, Dad?"

"After the transfer is complete, we target what used to be strategic defence and offence points for immediate occupation. I want their military to feel our breath on their neck on wake-up. I want to give them a shock therapy they will never recover from."

"I see that. It seems exhaustive: communications, radar, missile, spatial, naval and air bases, concentrations of ground troops, civilian communications, research centres... What about the Imperial Palace and government centres?"

"I asked for a list with locations and probable fallback points. I plan on handling that in a second phase, using a top-down approach. From their Emperor right to the city Mayors. They will need our permission to wipe their arses. My idea is to swoop down with such speed they will not be able to take a breath from start to finish."

"I see Dunbar is involved a lot in this?"

"It’s a show of force, Sitar. I have built a list of Units that will be involved, and it will include over 20 Cohorts, or 224,220 members of the Armed Forces, just to take control the Imperial Palace."

"I suggested this approach," said AI-3.

"Why?"

The data cross-indexing of Atlantis One archives has revealed something the general population certainly is not aware of."

"What is that?"

"The Atlanteans never intended to build another space ship. The Colony ship was unique, and would have held the crew and the cream of Atlantis One’s population, cream being defined by those with the riches, those that could be of use, and some elite military Units. Nine out of ten people would have been left behind, even if everyone had been promised a place in one of these ships. They knew they had no time left but their propaganda machine puts Goebbels on the amateur list. What they did not know is that they had overestimated the grace period by ten years. They transported some archives aboard the ship, and the crew was complete, but the Imperial Family never set foot on board. As we know, the Primary blew up during the test run. The escape plan was simple. Invite those that had been selected for an on-board visit and take off at full warp speed for Earth, leaving the others behind and not giving them the time to react. It was a planned genocide of planetary proportions."

"That makes me sick, AI-3. Now I better understand Dad’s actions. If I had taken the decision, those in charge would have been ported in space with no suit!"

"We considered the idea, believe me, we did!" said Annabelle.

"But?"

"I suspect quite a few of those that were selected to be part of the rescued strata had no idea of the Imperial plans. They deserve a fair chance at life. The others, well..."

"I now see the value of the scare tactics: those that really stand to lose will over-react, and end up shortened by a head."

"Exactly. Or feel, for a short while, the true meaning of Dragon breath."

"Why not occupy the strategic points before we defrost them?"

"For two reasons: it would disperse us; and second, we need to be grouped to show strength. By taking them their pants down, when they think everything is fine, it will have a stronger psychological impact. I want them to piss their pants," Harold replied.

"Are you not worried there will be a wave of suicides?"

"They can always try. Nothing stops us from re-freezing those that try and heal them. Their choice will be to accept the fact or we will resuscitate you as many times as necessary until you do, we believe there will be a lot less loss."

"You are harsh, Dad, you know that, do you not? They can not escape in death a reality they can not accept!"

"Everyone takes a nap from one hour after sext until one hour before vespers, freshens up, feeds and report to your assigned stations an hour before compline for last-minute check," decided Colibri. "Ferriday? How many Mages are available to help the Royal family in the porting?"

"A Legion, your Highness."

"It will have to do. From the face the Prince of Magic Harp is doing, Ferriday, he is not too pleased at the College’s production rate. Do not wait for Dragon Breath to put some gas in your tank to improve output!"

"We are aware of issues, and we are working hard to resolve them. It is the oldest students that are the holdbacks. The Children come into the College just about to blow the roof off. They can do ports, but..."

"But?" asked Colibri with a voice so sweet Bees would have tried to drink the nectar had there been any around, watching Harp’s eyes turn fiery-red from displeasure.

"Some Teachers have refused to teach four-year olds the arcane aspects of Magic, claiming they were not mature enough," whimpered the Dean of the College, shaking on his legs.

Harp became white-hot and the temperature in the room rose dramatically.

"Ferriday, I want these Children on the teams as of now. I will personally roast a Teacher that holds back a Child from his Magic for reason of age!" thundered Harp, as he turned to a Dragon Boy before turning into a full-fledged fire-breathing one!

"How many Children are training in Magic?" asked Colibri, while signalling Harp to cool down.

"Three Cohorts, as redefined by your latest reorganization of the military structure, Sitar."

"Another reorganization, Sitar?" asked Diamondcutter, unaware of the change.

"Yes. We were having increasing issues with keeping Atlantis organised. I decided to redo the maths, see to it that each Army had enough of each type of our forces to be autonomous should the need arise. See the schematics displayed on the billboard at the entrance to the Mess Hall. We still have way too many Hordes, since we have around 120 of them. And yes, I decided to borrow the notion of Hordes from the Orcs. I was running short on ideas. I still want to regroup the Hordes, but it is proving difficult to find a name. I am looking at the military history of the Earth for inspirations."

"How about a Swarm? It applies to Insects, and could be of use," suggested Colibri.

Sitar thought it over, trying to remember his hypnotic lessons on animal behaviour, and suddenly smiled.

"A Swarm it is! Ten hordes will constitute a Swarm." he accepted, updating the organisation charts while scratching the ears of Spare Ribs, one of the Sabre-tooth Snow Leopards that had become part of the Royal retinue of allied species and unofficial representative of the Felines.

«Where is your family?» Sitar asked the Feline telepathically.

«Learning to hunt with Female. She took them to the Hunting Place. It helps her control her mood swings while waiting for the next Kittens.»

«Still no name?»

«She is not comfortable with name.»

«Fine by us. She has her own body smell, so we always know it is her. Unfortunately, not all of the two-legs are as fine with their nose as we are.»

«What will we do in this hunt?»

«Hunt?»

«One named Colibri and other named Dunbar plan a hunt.»

«I did not see it like that, but yes, it can be seen as a hunt for villains, those who were willing to leave their family behind for their own selfish benefit. Colibri? How do you plan to integrate the Felines?»

«As watchers and close protection for Harold. The Circle of Protection is focussed on Ian, and we need to have stealthy protection as well as overt protection. The Canines’ claws click on tiles, and hoofs resonate like thunder. Felines can literally walk on clouds. Will that be good enough for you, Spare-Ribs?»

«Will we be allowed to kill?»

«On command, yes. And do it silently. The more shadowy, phantomatic, the more effective you will be. I expect Fang Chao, and your current Females and Kittens, which are now almost Adult, to be part of the protection and patrol. Go nap, the evening will be long, and the night short. We will inform your family of the plans when they return from the hunting lessons. It is good they did that. It will reduce the risks of accidents with prey. The Kittens were getting restless. The kills will be fed to you later, so make sure your family understands it must not be distracted by it.»

Everyone retired to rest in prevision of the upcoming events. Only left on watch were the space ship’s command crew.

***

Vespers was sounded on-board the ship, and the Royals moved to the Great Hall to feed. Huge amounts of food were consumed in prevision of the long hours ahead. By one hour before compline, everyone was ready and moved in a solemn procession to the tessaract layer that had been dedicated to storing the 9,000,000,000 or so stasis pods.

"Colibri? You have command!" ordered Harold.

Colibri gulped, then looked at the assembled Mages. He took a breath and began his speech.

"Present in this vast hall are approximately 9,000,000,000 stasis pods. All their inhabitants have been time-synchronised to on-board cycle so their biorhythm has been adjusted to Earth Standard diurnal cycle from their original 25.5 hours period typical of Atlantis One. Every single Atlantean capable of porting is present here. In the destination tessaract are cameras that allow you to visualise your target area. Each pod has, on its front, near the head of the occupant,but outside of it, a monitor displaying the target area. Use them to focus and see that your port reaches the intended target. Each of you will have ten seconds to focus and port an individual, for an average of 673 ports. If you do the maths, this will take approximately one hour and fifty-two minutes. As soon as a port is completed, the empty stasis pod is pushed above to be replaced by a new stasis pod. Some of you may be slower, others may be faster, but all should be careful of what you do. You are Mages; act responsibly. So as not to tire you unduly, all porting stations are equipped with seats. Most of you are Shape-shifters; use this to your advantage. The Royals will stand by in case there are issues with some ports. Do not hesitate to call on us should a problem arise. Fifteen minutes to beginning of port; take your stations and meditate!"

Time seemed to stop. Each Mage deeply embedded in his or her core, waiting the signal from Colibri.

"One minute to port! Artificial Intelligences, activate target camera and feed to the proper monitor!"

"Cameras on! No failure on source! No failure on monitor path! No cross-feed!" replied Thebes’ Artificial Intelligence. "All in stasis are now in paradoxical sleep phase. Thirty seconds to initial port. Countdown triggered! Ten... Nine... One... Zero! First wave sent!"

Ten seconds later, the AI reported the second wave sent, and continued the count as each wave was transported to their respective destination. Each wave consisted of approximately 13,381,422 ports. The Royals also did their share, porting individuals at a much faster clip, at a rate of one port per second.

"Sixty minutes since start of port, 360 waves done, 312 waves left, no major issues! Some are slowing down due to fatigue." reported Thebes.

"We will pick up the slack," said Harp, speeding up to 2 ports per second.

"Thirty minutes to completion, still 180 waves to go. The number of drop-outs is growing constantly, reaching 1,221 so far. It is exponential in growth and should reach 500,000 in fifteen minutes, and 1,000,000 7.5 minutes later; 2,000,000 at 3.25 minutes to completion; 4,000,000 at slightly above one minute to initial completion estimate, Prince of Magic."

"Re-estimate the duration of transfers assuming the Royals maintain their current rate of transfer."

"Two hours."

"How many will be functional by completion?"

"Less then 1,000,000, your Highness."

"Stop transfer at estimated time to completion, we will assume the load. Estimate the residual load!"

"Approximately 13,400,000, your Highness. Right now, the Royal family ports 13,900 individuals per second, divided amongst all of you. Do you think you can maintain the rate?" worried AI-6.

"We derive our Magic from Thebes’ magical core, not our own. We can sustain a much higher speed for an infinitely longer time. Do not worry about us. I see those at the College lack an in-depth understanding of Magical theory. Our core, to use Colibri’s term, is used to focus external magical energy, not to drive Magic. There resides true power. This seems to be lacking in students graduating from the College of Magic. I shall have to kick some Teacher butts again. Do not worry, the Dean, my dear friend Ferriday, is way too out of it to notice our little exchange."

The Thebes Artificial Intelligence began the closing countdown for the other Mages and, after one hour and 52 minutes, the group disengaged. However, they noticed that the Royals were deep in trance, glowing bluish-white with controlled Magic, and were porting individuals at an astounding rate. Those that had run out of Magic the earliest had begun returning from their semi-comatose state and eyed wearily and shocked the display of power their leaders displayed.

"Harold, Samson, Annabelle, Diamondcutter, Amethyst, Dunbar, Williams, disengage," ordered Colibri as the number of people left to port dropped below a million.

A minute later, it was the turn of Timor and Rockhook to disengage, followed less than 30 seconds later by Typhoon, Thorsten, Greywolf, and Silver Moon. Finally, in a quick cascade, the others disengaged, leaving only Colibri, Ian and Harp to verify the last ports. After a quick check, they too emerged from the trance, taking a breath.

"Transfer complete. AI-4, begin disinfection cycles on the vacated stasis pods. Everyone rests until matins, and then we begin preparing the next step," ordered Colibri. "Williams, you have command, in conformity to our plans."

"I have command, Colibri. I will be on the Bridge until matins."

Colibri finally noticed the wide eyes of the Mages around them and looked at them critically.

"What is it? Never seen real Magic before?" he said with a smirk. "Get going, you seem to need a bath and a rest. ¹¹ ("Wyvern: Generic name for a Dragon."), let us go play doctors, I need some night exercise!" The two shifted to Felines, meowed loudly, and ported to the nest for some inter-personal fun. Harold, Harp and Ian looked at each other, exploding in uncontrollable laughter.

"Colibri’s shyness has vanished like snow in a frying pan!" commented Sitar, as the Royals left the Tessaract to return to the Imperial Suite found within Thebes. Harold still refused to occupy the one found in Kantar, finding it too far removed from his beloved people. This suited everyone just fine.

***

Matins came early for everyone but especially for some of the Magic Teachers. Harp was in no mood to feel charitable and doused them with icy water directly in their bed.

«Had you mastered your art, buggers, you would be wide awake by now rather than being sleepier than a Sloth. Now, get your arse in gear before I send an Ass to kick it! Ferriday, report to the Royal Suite on the double!»

The aforementioned Ferriday popped from his bed to the Royal Suite, still dripping wet from his early morning wake up call.

"See, incentives work, Ferriday," said Paschal, grinning evilly at the Dean of the College of Magic.

"I wonder how poor Nestor managed to survive you guys."

"Because he was near retirement and we did not want to be held responsible for his early demise," answered Harp, grinning with sharp Dragon teeth, showing he could do partial transforms, much to the amazement of Ferriday.

"Why the early call?"

"We want you to organize that sorry collection of Teachers into a squad. You will lead them and be the first to land, err, port inside the tessaract now containing Atlantis One’s ecosystem," replied Colibri. "We want you to make sure that no one wakes up before the first rays of the sun, set at prime, in accordance to on-board rules. The other Mages and you shall use hypnosis to do the deed. That should be easy except for the insomniacs. This is one of the first spells taught at the College, but apparently, it is badly learned. Use your Magic core to manipulate the surrounding Magic, like an amplifier and a focal lens. I am sorry to say it will be a pain for those stuck in their ways. I am so glad it is Harp that taught me Magic, but the Royals have had enough of the repeated failings of the College. Everyone will re-qualify, even you, and there shall be numerous tests. This is such a test. Thebes will port you from target to target. We do this because we noticed some are getting agitated."

"When do we leave?"

"In five minutes," replied Sitar. "Gear up."

"What do we need?"

"Your mind."

"When will the others follow?"

"It is on a need to know basis, Ferriday. You do not need to know. Focus on the task your brethren and you were assigned."

Barely had two notes registered to Ferriday’s ears that he found himself in a bedroom holding an anxious but sleeping Adult Male and a Female pulling on the bedsheets like they were made of gold. He focussed on the Woman first, relaxing her and putting her into a peaceful dream state; it drained him somewhat, but then he remembered Colibri’s admonishment: use ambient Magic! He used Mage sight to find the tenuous tendrils of Magic in the area and wove a cocoon of calmness that enveloped the Man like a diaphanous veil that would dissolve by prime. As soon as he felt satisfied, he blinked to a sudden change of scenery. This time it was a Child’s bedroom. He repeated the process he had done with the Adult Male, and felt better. As he blinked out another change of scenery, he hoped the other Mages had understood the principle, because he felt sure of one thing: If they had not, they would die of core exhaustion, and the Imperial family was in no mood to explain what they should have learned from day one in the College of Magic. Ferriday knew few would put in doubt long-held beliefs and therefore the losses would be important. There would be a serious thinning of staff. He knew the Atlantean Royalty despised incompetence. He remembered vividly Harp’s first clean-up some years earlier, before they had left the ill-fated Earth. How could his colleagues have forgotten these traumatising events? Prince Harp had explained the Magic core and its use vividly to Staff and Students alike during the dinner that had followed the destruction of the Black Mages and the Black Dragon. Could it be they had dismissed the little Prince’s lessons because of his youth, as had the student that opposed the presence of the King of Orcs, Tarik, within the venerable walls of the College, and had ended up reduced to a soul without body for a while? That memory too sent shivers down his spine. It had taken him days to sleep as he heard the cry of the Student resonate in his mind during his dreams.

***

"Hey, Grandpa Nestor! Where have you been?" exclaimed Harp as an old Elf walked in the Royal Suite to his room which had been left unoccupied since he had taken to exploring the numerous tessaract layers of Thebes almost a year earlier.

"Hey Harp! You have grown like a weed! How are you?"

"Busy as always. We are in phase two of reactivating those we rescued through time from Atlantis One."

"Ah. Is it going well?"

"Not really. If things continue like they are, we will need to re-staff the College from the bottom up."

"Oh? Why is that so?" asked the Elf, sitting down on a settee to rest his more than 2,000 years old legs.

"Blatant incompetence! Core burnouts, to the point most will be unable to even lift a straw after tonight. Only one out of 120 manage to use the core properly to put someone into a restful sleep, Nestor. Given what I had seen during phase one, I had been tinkering with the idea of full-blown replacement of the College Staff. I shall have to do it anyway. And we will recall all those that graduated for a refocussing of their methods. No one is exempt, not even you Grandpa."

"I wonder how Ferriday will take it?"

"Either kindly or with a kick in the butt."

"Is it me or have you changed your methods? Usually, you took stubborn Elves and Humans for a cold bath?"

"It seems the military training has hardened them to cold water."

"That is not it! He is turning 12, and his focus is more below the belt!" said Sitar, from the other side of the vast room.

"Go get laid, big brother! I do not wear anything, much less a belt!"

After a chuckle, Nestor looked at the almost empty room.

"Where is everybody?"

"Essentially, monitoring phase two."

"I want to talk to Ferriday. I better get going."

"He is in the tessaract, doing his share," said Colibri.

"Oh. Where can I rest?"

"Your suite is unoccupied, Nestor. It has been so since you resigned and left for your walk around the block," said Sitar. "Ferriday stayed in his home on the College ground to be with his family. Apparently, his Wife felt insecure near Royals. His two Children are in the 5^th and 8th Centurie of the 9^th Legion of the 2^nd Cohort of the 6th Army of the 4^th Corps of the 3^rd Horde of the 1^st Swarm. They are rarely home."

Nestor blinked a few times as his mind tried to grasp the meaning of this series of military references. "How in Hell do you manage to know all that?"

"Nestor, I am the God War of Atlantis. It is my duty to know each and every member of the Armed Forces and where they are," replied Sitar.

"Stop playing with Grandpa! You queried AI-1, cheater!" exploded Harp. "Do not look at me like that, Sitar! You started it with that comment on my focus of attention!" as he mooned the culprit.

Nestor laughed heartily at the exchange, stood up, and made his way to his old den. He really needed to rest.

***

Sitar stood at the head of the long Royal table, watching things like a Captain on his ship.

"Who has the Bridge?"

"Manasa Dragon," replied Harold, looking at his Son. He could not help but be impressed by the nude Man he was watching from the right side of the table. Sitar had grown over the last nine years! From a rather reedy 12-year old, he had grown into a massive 21-year old Man, whose biceps measured 22 inches, with a height of almost seven feet, a ten-pack washboard of a belly, legs like pillars, and family jewels that made the envy of the Trolls and Equines! His face had squared up, showing a powerful, commanding chin, a nose that gave new meaning to Greek profile, and eyes that shone as if on fire. Working daily at the Forge and spending countless hours in military training or training others had sculpted his body, tuned his muscles to a work of art. Excalibur was laying across the table, vibrating gently under his caress, almost purring.

At the other end of the long table sat Harp, Bata resting on his left side, its metallic components shiny with barely restrained power. He too had grown, as Nestor had so elegantly said. Barely 12, he stood well near six feet, as the love of his life, Thorsten, stood at four foot five inches, a giant amongst the Dwarfs, sat on his left side, War Hammer and double-edged Axe resting on Bata.

Ian, his first biological Son, sat on the right side of Harp, already tall for his nine years, enveloped in a glow of barely restrained Magic, and Typhoon, in his shiny Gold Dragon Boy form, kept him company while, facing Typhoon, sat Lord Agramon, his skin silvery-looking.

Looking back toward his Son Sitar, Harold continued detailing those present at the table. Paschal, now 18, was slightly less muscled than Sitar, and held Mitsuko, the Sword of the Light, firmly in place on the table in front of him. Beside Paschal was Alexander, still quite young at four, but showing a lot of power already, and right to his left, Timor, the huge Troll. Further off barely visible beyond the Troll on the same side of the table sat Iridia the Fairy Princess and Timor’s mate. Past Iridia sat the collection of Canines: Greywolf, Bushtail Fox, and Willie Coyote, to name a few, along with the Runt, Greywolf’s Son, the biggest Wolf Harold had ever seen. Rockhook, the Goblin King, completed that side of the table. He seemed serene and relaxed. Facing Rockhook were other members of the Equines, the Lance Master of the Centaurs, Black White-Wing, the Pegasus, Golden Horn Unicorn, and a plethora of other equines.

Just as the Royal family was ready to eat, in walked Tarik, the Orc King, accompanied by Yousef, a miniature Orc of now about six maybe seven years of age, and two Australopithecus Regressi, Tom and Jerry, aged almost six years.

"Where are the others?" asked Sitar, as he eyed the empty benches.

"Some are on security patrol, others on the Bridge, and others recovering from their last watch," replied Harp from the far end of the table. "Harold-Ian is being nursed by a Pegasus Mare, before getting another equitation lesson. He is now too heavy for standard Wolf ride, and they, jointly with the Equines, decided it was time he learned on a bigger ride."

"Ok. Dig in. We have an hour before departure."

***

"Report the situation in the Atlantis One tessaract!" ordered Sitar.

Thebes, the Space Ship Artificial Intelligence, had the watch for that cycle and began reporting the observations.

"The rescued individuals are awake and moving about. Most are currently washing the sleep out of their system, and others, that woke up a bit earlier, are already preparing their breakfast."

"Military situation!"

"The military Units are also in the process of waking up. Some, who were on night watch when Atlantis One was scraped clean of life, and are a bit perplexed, but they are too far off to actually think thing over."

"Ruling structure!"

"The Emperor of Atlantis One is taking a bath and so are the members of his immediate family, while the Staff of the palace is rushing to prepare the Imperial food. Apparently, they are so well organised it takes them three hours to do a breakfast for the Imperial family, and it should have been ready by sunrise. It is pandemonium in the Kitchen."

"I can increase that!" said Harp, looking at the Sabre-tooth Snow Leopards eating a quarter of a Lamb in order to remove the bite to their ferocious appetite.

"I shall consider, if the need arises, little brother."

"You are not fun, Sitar."

Sitar smirked at Harp, remembering the number of Olympic records the over-fat Elvin Royal Cook had broken upon seeing the Prince walk in the Kitchen shaped like a Snow Leopard.

"Do we have a family name for this future has-been?" asked Harold.

"Yes. Padishah, Shazam XI. It is the 132^th Dynasty of Atlantis One we have been able to trace from the backtracked archives. That number may change as we delve further in time."

"Thank you, AI-5. How is the cross-indexing of the archives progressing?"

"We are at -20,000 years and still going back in time. Quite a few documents had been lost by the time Shazam XI Padishah took office. Luckily the Collectors time-stamped every document, or we would be in deep shit!"

"If I get this, a Dynasty lasted an average of 151 years, or seven generations?"

"Yes, Pharaoh. The most common cause leading to the termination of a Dynasty was regicide, followed by not being able to produce a viable heir. The later was the result of too much inbreeding. Sickness before producing an heir was a distant third."

"And what is the standing of Shazam in all this?"

"He is the 7^th of his line. He has two Sons, a Daughter, and four Wives, the last one being too young to bear Child: she is eight. The stasis pod report shows it did not stop him form doing the deed with her. There was extensive damage to her reproductive tract, requiring a complete reconstruction of the internal organs. The Emperor is well-hung, and did not take no as an answer. She would have been sterile had she survived to the proper age without our intervention. It was not the first girl he had so savagely sacrificed on the altar of his unbridled lust. Those that did survive to 12 were killed for not producing a Heir by 14. The argument for the execution was simple: she had been given to the Throne to produce a Heir; she could not, and no one could ever come after the Emperor to lay a girl. It was a butchery."

"The more I hear of him, the less likely he will survive," said Harp.

"I agree, Son. Let us continue this briefing. We have no reason to grandstand Humans with that kind of history."

"Those that survived stage two amongst the Magical Staff of the College are now back to their starting point. Those that did not are now in the freezer for future consumption by the predators of the Ark tessaracts," reported Ian.

"How many survived?"

"Twenty-three, including Ferriday, out of 1110 or so magical Staff members. The College is closed until such time as the Royal family can find time to replace the cold cuts. Viola, Banjo and Cello are vetting those that survived with a relatively intact magical core during phase one; they are probably those with the finest intuitive knowledge of how to do Magic without killing themselves. We do not need them for phase three. They will interview and ask questions about the theory of Magic, and ask to see them perform basic Magic. It will let them do a preliminary filter. Then Piano and Violin will take those with the proper understanding and see how they react to naïve Students, thus measuring their teaching capabilities."

"Ok. Is there anything else to cover? Yes, Dunbar?"

"Here is the list of the Legions involved, in order of port. Each Legion will be deployed at 5-seconds interval. Williams suggested we play a theme for each type of Legion deployed. I agree. Let us saturate the tessaract with a very proper march. It is part of psychological warfare."

"Proceed. How many Legions will be involved?"

"Each wave will be composed of a Horde. There will be three Hordes. In all, 30,002 Centuries, the equivalent of 3,000 Legions, or 36,633,333 members of the Armed Forces, will be called in on this operation. It is a tiny fraction of our total available Forces. Each Centurion has received his assignation yesterday at vespers. You should have yours in your morning brief. Sitar, you are off with the first wave, Harp with the second, and Ian with the third. Harold, you will be part of the third wave, falling off the sky with the 20 Cohorts in charge of taking the Imperial Grounds and Palace. Greywolf, as the Royal Wolf Guards, your Centurie is in charge of close protection."

«Spare Ribs, you have shadow protection of the Royals. Every Feline knows who you are, and we have three Centuries at your disposal to insure nothing comes biting Harold’s arse.»

«Brother?»

«Your brother is in command of three more Centuries, tasked with the same type of work but for Ian’s party. There is a good reason for this arrangement. The surprise effect should b gone by the time wave three shows up, and if resistance there is, it should begin to organise itself. Your task is to scout the resistance and dispose of its leadership. Each of us carries a tiny pheromone spray that will be triggered during port. You already smelt it and learned not to attack a carrier. That way, there will not be any errors. Learning during sleep does have a lot of advantages,» Paschal replied.

"Is everyone ready?" asked Colibri. Receiving a nod, he invited them to move to their respective Legions to await their call. "Everyone is regrouped in the Field of Mars, organised in their respective units. Dunbar, you have Field Command until all Units are on the theatre of operations; Sitar you have theatre of operations command until such time as the job is finished. I will be with my Legion," decided Colibri, once again relinquishing command.

***

The first Units to land were the Canines, which quickly dispersed to block access to transport hubs. Then the Equines moved in, and the Centaurs and Unicorns took control of communication hubs, triggering the breakers and thus isolating decision centres from each other. Finally, diffusion centres were occupied by Elves, Dwarves, and Legionnaires.

«Wave one in place! Begin intoxication!» Sitar informed those still outside of the tessaract. On cue, the tessaract resonated first with the Wolves Hunting, followed by the Charge of the Centaurs, and then the drums and pipes of the Dwarves, to be followed by the Orcs March, and just as the first shrieking sounds of the Dragons were heard, flying barely 500 feet above ground, the Dragon’s March. Then came into the background, high above ground and leaving white contrails, the Pegasuses, also flying at super-sonic speed. Goblins materialised on the main highways, walking in step into each agglomeration and taking control of main intersections, thus blocking displacement of forces within cities.

The old stock Atlanteans tried to regroup using alternate, narrow roads, but were constantly hindered in their effort by the impossibility to communicate, to call or even talk given the level of noise. Some tried using weapons, only to realise they had been sabotaged beyond the possibility of repair. Military Units tried in vain to start their transports, to use armoured vehicles, or to fly anything. Rockets refused to be fired, ballistic weapons, from pistols to rocket-propelled grenades fizzled. Some tried hand-to-hand combat, only to be trounced thoroughly by the Armies of Harold. Knives held no chance against blades measuring an average of four feet in length. Even the Toddlers whipped their arses so bad it was no longer funny.

«Wave two has accomplished all its objectives!» decided Sitar after three hours of uninterrupted progress.

«Wave three is beginning port! Begin the diffusion of the message!» replied Dunbar.

«Acknowledged!»

The communication system, which had been silenced by the first wave, began transmitting information on the situation in theTessaract and what had brought it up. A recording of what had transpired through time was relayed, as well as the action taken to safeguard the population of Atlantis One.

Most were sceptical, since they could see the Sun shine, but those that had lived the lies of the old regime knew it was true. To make the sceptics see reason, the Sun was closed down for ten seconds, throwing everyone in pitch black darkness, without even a star shining. The shock was terrible. Once power was restored to the artificial Sun, the next step began: informing the people of the duplicity of their government. The result was again scepticism until visual recordings of meetings between high-ranking officials were diffused. As the level of corruption and the extent of the planned crime became known, more and more people took to the streets, asking for accountability and some heads to roll.

By then, the third wave had almost finished landing and taking their pre-determined positions. The only missing Units were the occupying forces destined to the Imperial Grounds.

Ian and the Protectors ported on the roof of the Palace, staying hidden from view of the patrolling Praetorian Guards.

«What is the situation?» asked Harold, waiting for the signal from Ian.

«The Imperial Guards are extremely nervous. Our troops are visible on the horizon, but out of reach of any concerted attack from the Guards. They are remarkably disciplined and seem to be trying to find a way to fortify the Grounds. So far, it is difficult, since all communications must be written down due to the noise from our Air Forces. Luckily we have silencing bubbles around us! I just saw a door shatter from a supersonic boom done by one of the Green Dragons. The Felines are already down below. Everyone is concentrated on the ground and first floor levels. The Feline have practically occupied the last, fourth floor, without meeting anybody. I am moving my Legions down leaving a Centurie to occupy the roof.»

Twenty minutes later, Ian reported the fourth floor occupied by his Legions, and that he was sending the Felines down one level. Their hearing told them some areas were inhabited, and they would be the last ones to be dealt with.

The occupation of the third floor began on auspicious footing. The Felines crawled right to the closed doors of a suite and silently pushed them open. A group of Adults were looking at the horizon with high-power binoculars, not paying attention to anything inside.

«See what I see!» asked Fang Chao as he eyed the bipeds with some trepidation.

Ian and his team listened in on the visual pathways of the cat and saw a select group of uniformed military Officers.

«These are Officers of the Praetorian Guards. Stay crouched. I am reading their minds to determine if they are targets.» After less than three minutes came the damning decision. «Kill them silently. One target per Cat, silent kill, bite their neck to crush their windpipe.»

The Felines began progressing slowly toward the ten observers, belly on the floor, their claws not yet extended. Five feet from their target, they slowly expelled air from their lungs, each eyeing the future meat loaf and then, with the power of steel springs, jumped the distance to land on the backs of the unsuspecting Atlanteans, closing their maws on the offered necks and crushing the spine and vocal box instantly. Not a single cry was uttered. The Cats pulled the corpses to the side and retreated silently to the hallway.

«It is done.»

«Well done. We are moving the food to the freezer. It would not serve us if blood dripped from the ceiling on the floor below.»

«This is the law of the hunt. We pull ours up trees, but we understand the need to keep scavengers off our food. I see the Canines are now at our position.»

«Yes, they cleared another wing. I am making my way down. Regroup with us at the stairs. The next level will be more difficult to occupy silently.»

The change of floors was almost compromised as a messenger came up the stairs from the second floor, but, faced with a huge animal licking its lips and looking at him directly in the eyes as if he was a side-dish made for an instant fainting spell. One has to wonder what that behaviour serves if you are to be made into food?

«Is this food?» asked one of the Cats accompanying Ian.

«I think not. He was only a simple Mail Boy, a Messenger. He probably would have been left behind, and if not, he certainly was not in the secret of those we want as food. Two to guard him! Move him upstairs beyond the door and lay down on him to prevent any movement.»

One Feline grabbed the Messenger by the seat of his pants, and lifted him off the ground while another took the shirt collar to do the same. Only the legs were left dragging. Ian opened the door to the upper landing by telekinesis, and the Cats carried their load up to the hallway above.

«If he wakes up, growl at his face and bear teeth, but do not harm him,» Ian instructed the Cats.

Harp ported beside Ian as well as Sitar and Paschal.

«Where are the others?» Ian asked.

«Doing a last check on the upper landing. They should be joining us momentarily,» replied Sitar, just as Enron, Thorsten, and Typhoon popped silently in the rather crowded stairway.

«Who is checking the elevators?»

«Our bonded Dragons. At two per door, it will be a long day before anyone manages to get on our back.»

«We just let two Officers get off on the fourth floor. They are now dead,» Brinsop informed the Protectors. «It is no use telegraphing the top-down invasion by sending a bloodied elevator below.»

«Good thinking.»

Ian moved down to the second landing and gently opened the door to examine the hall beyond.

«This hallway is more crowded than a can of sardines. I do not think we can maintain the surprise much longer.»

«I suggest we distract them some by giving them something to look at outside,» Paschal commented.

«That is a rich idea. Dad? I think it is time to move in.»

«Ok. Porting above on three... One... Two... Three!»

Just as the telepathic link transmitted the number, a series of bangs shattered was was left of windows in the Palace.

«Dad knows how to make an entrance!» commented Harp, as he grinned widely. «Does it have the expected results?»

«There must be a number of wounded from the cries we hear. They are moving in to assist. Ah, it is clearing up. Get ready to move. I am opening the door to check the other side. It is frantic. Go! Go! Go! Do not enter the rooms! Occupy the halls only!»

The Protectors stayed close to their charge, while the Felines and Canines spread around. Things progressed quickly until one of the doors opened just as a Wolf passed by. The cry of surprise alerted those inside and pandemonium broke loose in the room. Ian and his team ported into the room, rapidly silencing all resistance, but the harm was done.

«Kill all resistance!» ordered Ian, as he used Magic to dissociate into its components an individual attacking one of the Felines. The noise peaked and then ebbed, as jaws, swords, and piques terminated the defenders. It took less than 15 minutes to control the second floor. The noise had been covered by the arrival of Harold’s party and the fight that ensued outside.

***

Harold dropped down on the ground in his Dragon form, crushing a Decurie of Guards under his mass. Others did the same, and, taking example on him, began incinerating concentrations of troops using Dragon Breath.

«I always loved shish kebabs!» declared Anbraxias as he tore a leg from one of the fried Praetorian Guards, making the survivors freak and run for cover even faster!

«You are also a proponent of psychological warfare!» Harold replied, laughing. Harold then shifted to his Dragon Man form, bringing into play the Hammer and Shield of Thor. He slammed the two together, creating a sonorous boom that shook the foundations of the palace and cracked some weak masonry.

«Let us get closer to that Card Palace. Music!»

Drums began resonating at a slow pace, in step with the advance of the forces under Harold’s command. The invaders moved forward at a deliberate pace, while the forces outside advanced on the outside walls like a tidal wave, cornering the unfortunate Praetorian Guards that had ventured outside the defence perimeter against the Palace grounds Walls. Fanaticism prevailed and none surrendered, not that the act would have saved their neck after a telepathic scan.

***

The cries of agony of the Guards attracted observers to the pane-less windows and covered the battle for the second floor. The invaders then moved to the first floor and cleared it up in one full swoop. Very few of the defenders survived a telepathic scan, mostly Servants, Couriers, and maintenance Staff. Higher-ups were refreshed by a steel blade, an axe, or other permanent ways of resolving insomnia.

«We are ready for ground level, Dad.»

«We might be too numerous and hinder each other’s work. What do you suggest, Sitar?»

«Stop them from leaving by the main entrances, invade by the ends of the wings and push them toward the core of the building. We occupy the core and push those there either in the basement or toward you or the exits.»

«That works. I will leave the Equines in charge of the exterior, they are a bit over-sized for the inside work. The Cats are already on the porticoes, ready to fall on the unfortunate that try to escape. Have you lost anyone?»

«So far, only two minor cuts from slipping in the broken glass. They were healed by Mitsuko on the spot. You?»

«Thirteen wounded, mostly from objects thrown out of the windows by the defenders, and a couple of bites from the enraged defenders. I wonder why the defenders thought they could harm an Orc with these teeth. They learned that hair does not taste good, and that at the biting game, the Orcs had a clear advantage. I healed the bites by Magic, as they were close to me. The others are outside of the tessaract, moved into healing stasis pods for an hour or so.»

«Ok. Move in, we will wait for the defenders to move toward the ends and exit.»

Harold used the southern wing to move to the hub, while his bonded used the northern wing to do the same. Annabelle entered via the western edge while her Dragon bonded entered via the eastern edge. All had shifted to a Human-Dragon shape, thus being invulnerable to any projectile.

The battle was ferocious and noisy, attracting what was left of the defence Units to the ends. As soon as the hub was clear, those in the stairwell exited and took the defenders à revers, slamming them like a hammer against an anvil. The result was predictable: Atlantean skewers and pancakes. Still, no trace of the Emperor of Atlantis One had been found, and the only conclusion was he had found refuge in the bunkers below. This battle was far from over, realised Sitar, as he met with Harold in a hallway.

"Hey there, Son! How are things?"

"Not so bad, Dad. No one reported meeting with the Emperor or, for that matter, the members of the Privy Council. The only conclusion is they are in the basements. The next two layers are stores, but the real bunker is only reached by the service elevator found in a boiler room on the second basement. We will clean up the basements but stay out of the boiler room until we are finished. Only Dragons shall enter that room. I expect it to be booby-trapped."

"I thought we had dealt with everything?"

"Everything that was there during the port of the planet surface, Dad. But you know how inventive a desperate animal can be, and I sense what is left of Atlantis One’s leadership is in such a state."

"You are right. Let us move back to the hub and begin the cleanup of the basement levels."

It took the rest of the day to clear up the two levels. By vespers, the only room still not visited was the boiler room. Harp moved close to the door and used Magic to see beyond the thick steel door.

"Sitar is right. They have booby-trapped the door and it will detonate the boiler the moment we move the handle. There is no one inside, but I see pressure tiles that will collapse the top level on us. Let me focus. I am looking for other means of triggering the explosives. They were very creative: who would have thought that cleansing agents combined with fuels would do nice explosives! And there is also a diesel-fertiliser explosive."

"Check for cameras and other means of detection as well," Thorsten suggested.

"I am. There are cameras. I am disabling the door trigger. It is a fuse system so as to maximize our losses."

Harp used telekinesis to delicately extract the fuse from the load of nitrate-fuel mix. Once this was done, he moved it away from the barrel, and then cut the wire that fed the electrical current to the detonator. A spark occurred but the detonator failed to trigger the fuse.

Once this process was done, Harp focussed on the tiles that would act as triggers. The task was delicate. How could he disable them without being seen by the camera? Harp studied the wiring, and called on Paschal.

"Can you tell me the weak point of that type of wiring system?" he asked his Brother.

After a few minutes, Paschal came to a conclusion. "This circuit is organised in eight series of connector tiles, with the tiles near the boiler closing the circuits. Again, this is done to maximise our losses."

"If you are right, I can disable the system by disconnecting those near the boiler?"

"Yes. And the fools can not see these tiles from there their surveillance camera. Let me focus."

Harp cut the wires that fed the sensors first, then he removed the detonators from the barrels of explosives before cutting the power feed to them. After a quarter of an hour, he had finished. But something bugged him, and he began looking at the boilers themselves. What he found sent shivers down his spine.

"The fuckers have filled the boilers with liquid explosives! The moment the heating system starts this thing goes up sky-high!"

"Where is the trigger?"

"I am following the wires. They are hidden in a layer of grease, and sliding down between the elevator sliding doors and the floor. Shit! I see how this works! The elevator will close the circuit when it moves up, triggering the explosion!"

"I see. Is it linked to the cables?"

"No, it is not. The power is supplied by a set of four batteries connected in series. I am cutting the connection between the batteries and the wire, and isolating the batteries themselves. Give me five minutes."

"Examine the elevator itself as well, Harp. I would not put it beyond them to have booby-trapped this as well, just in case the shaft trigger failed," suggested Thorsten.

Harp did as his love suggested and found another trap, right under the floor of the elevator cage. He whistled.

"That one’s a nice little dirty trick. It is a negative feed trigger. Someone using a sensor for an electrical current would have dismissed the cable as conductor since it is not fed yet. The moment the elevator reaches our floor, the wire is too short and creates a spark by using another set of four power cells, and the surge is carried by the elevator cable to the frame and triggers the explosives. Another fifteen minutes and these power cells will be harmless."

"I wonder where they found all the time to do this?" Typhoon asked himself just loud enough to be heard by Thorsten.

"I think this has been prepared well in advance of our porting. We just did not see these objects for what they were."

"That means we need to validate every intervention so far. We may be faced with a number of unconventional weapons of mass destruction once we let the people out of their homes!"

«Timor is right. I am asking for a full-blown search of any major structure likely to hold such concentrations of explosives. Continue dismantling their defences magically, Harp. I have contacted each Legion already to make them aware of the possibility. Our esteemed allies the Dwarves are proceeding to the search and destroy of the anti-personnel explosives already spotted by the teams. AI-6 is dumping a list of all sites where the port signatures indicated nitrates, fuels, and other unusual concentrations of chemicals.»

«Thanks for the quick action, Colibri. Why not port the chemicals out of storage? Out of sight out of mind!»

«This is what we do when they have not been pre-mixed, Sitar. I had no qualms at producing explosions during the primary port of Atlantis One, since we had no one on the ground so to speak, but this is no longer the case.»

«I see.»

"I am done," declared Harp. "They have not installed last-minute explosives in the halls below. They have yet to try and open the exits. They will find a rock wall when they do. I materialised the walls when I had finished the dismantling of their explosives. Magic does have its perks! They also believe their anti-matter device is active. They will be in for a really small fizzle! We left the anti-matter containment cell on the planet when we ported the surface!"

"Ok. Short the cameras!" ordered Ian. A minute later the Atlanteans moved into the room and reached the elevator shaft door.

"I suggest we slide down the cable after forcing the double doors open. They may be listening for an explosion or a motor noise," Tarik suggested.

"Ok. I’m dropping first as a gliding bird. I want to be on the roof of the cabin and open the control trap," decided Sitar as he converted into a Sparrow and dropped down like a stone.

A few minutes later, still as a bird, he explored the cabin roof. «Nice little dirty trick here. Someone sliding down would not see the trigger in the grease. Harp, dispose of it!»

«Ok. I see what you mean. I am cutting the electrical circuit. It is done. Porting."

«Get rid of the power cells as well. They are cumbersome.»

A few seconds later, the elevator cage’s roof was clear, and the Atlanteans used the cable to begin their descent. Meanwhile, Sitar opened the inspection trap, and after examining the floor of the elevator for anomalies, silently dropped on it. A few minutes later, Harp, Paschal, Thorsten, Typhoon, and Enron were on the floor of the elevator.

«Do you see any surveillance camera?»

«No, Harp. Anyway, if there is one, it is too late to do anything about it. Check the activity behind the doors.»

After a few minutes, Harp came back out of his trance and reported. «They are trying to figure out why the camera stopped working. They think they will hear explosions the moment we enter the room, giving them fair warning.»

«Timor, force the doors open. Let us prove them wrong!»

Timor and Typhoon united their considerable muscle strength to separate the doors and peek in the hallway. No one seemed to notice the slowly widening gap.

«Dad! Ready to port to the elevator floor as soon as we evacuate. Timor, stay behind as anchor!» commanded Sitar, who took out Excalibur while Paschal took out Mitsuko, Harp handled Bata, and Thorsten took out his Axe.

As the doors finally stopped opening the Boys charged silently the control room, killing everyone in it. Behind them began pouring the Royal Wolf Guards, a legion of Dwarves, the Felines, and a dozen Trolls.

"Track the runaways!" Harold ordered, as the Wolves and Dogs began sniffing the ground. It took them less than two minutes to find that the majority of those in the bunker were headed along a wide hallway. The other smells were old, musty, dusty and of no interest for a hunt. Everyone with shape-shifting capacities converted to Wolves and began a head-long run to follow the party of fleeing individuals.