Galactica: Book 1 - Via Lactea

 

The next morning, Mark, Ovid and Zen made their way to the Mess Hall quite early, so early in fact they were the first in the huge room. The Boys made good their time and explored it from one end to the other carefully. Ovid noticed the scroll call first and began reading the names.

"Hey! Look at that! Someone has my name!"

Mark took a look at the list and also found many persons named either Mark or a variation thereof.

"I wonder what is the meaning of M followed by a number?"

"I do not know, but the one with my name has M-1. And it says something like Primary Team in the assignment column."

"I saw one Mark M-1 also assigned to the Primary Team. I wonder what this all means?"

«I wish I knew how to read.»

«We will teach you, Zen. Hey, look at that, Ovid! There is a Zen, M-1 also assigned to the Primary team! And note we completely ignored the other column, which, according to this title, indicates the species. At, E, S, W?»

"W?"

"I looked at the teams, and found Primary Team, with Mark, Ovid, Runt and Zen on that wall. Just below the list of names is the word anchoring. If you look below there are more teams, called segment teams. In all, I counted 15 segment teams."

"I think I found out! Remember the Captain’s name? Well, I looked for Typhoon, and found Captain, Team Bridge Alpha, Dr, and also M-1."

"So?"

"Dr means Dragon, and I think M stands for Magic and the level is the number. Remember the Runt told us the crew had to be magical level three or above. I thought he meant of a higher number, but I suspect I misunderstood. The level of Magic is counted backward, with 0 being infinite power, or something like that."

"Dr stands for Dragon... so... my ears tell everyone I am an Elf, and your rounded ears mark you as either Human or Atlantean. Since you have that bluish dot on your tailbone, rather than the black one or none, you are Atlantean. S can only stand for Snake, and W for Wolf!" concluded Mark.

"Good work, Boys!" said the Thebes Artificial Intelligence. "I let you deduce this on your own to see how you would reason things out."

"Cool! Did my interpretation of power fit?"

"It is a close match. Indeed, the Royals are classified as Zero, because their magical power is off the scale. But it is not infinite, unless they merge. The number of Zero levels is around 25 or so, including the six Protectors and Ian, the Heir to the Throne of Atlantis."

"Ok."

"Go to the Royal Table. The first Centurie of the Royal Guards is nearing the door, and you might be tramped on. They usually come in running at the full charge."

The Boys barely made it to the end of the huge room before the double doors opened wide and a Centurie of Legionnaires came running in.

«I hate these vibrations!» said Zen to the Boys, as the three eyed the group head their way on the run. The table was shaking like it wanted to take on a quick-step dance.

«If it is an effort to impress the observer, it is successful!» replied Ovid.

«It might be a useful technique to scare your food into submission, Zen!»

«The Mice are usually too scared to move. It is boring.»

The Centurion was surprised to see two figures at the Royal Table, as he prided himself at being an early riser. He made his way to the Boys, wondering who they were.

"Hey Boys! What are you doing at the Royal Table?"

"We are waiting for food, that is what. You?" queried Ovid as Zen took a peek from the bench beside Mark, not liking the sound of that voice one bit.

"You do know this table is reserved for the Royal Party?" the Centurion replied, frowning at the effrontery of the Boy.

"Yes. We are expecting Runt to join us shortly, as well as quite a few others. Again, you?"

«I do not like how that Human tastes. Beware!»

«I figured as much. Would you like to climb on me to reach the table’s surface, Zen?» offered Mark.

«Thank you for the offer, but I have a better idea!»

«Ok.»

As the Centurion kept eyeing Ovid suspiciously, he suddenly heard a slap on the table and found he was now looking at the wide-open jaws of a Snake! He backed away, falling on his arse and cussing up a storm. Ovid smiled evilly at the Centurion.

"May I introduce Zen, Snake extraordinaire, Class 1 Mage, and member of the Primary anchor team today?"

The Centurion kept backing away on the floor as fast as he could, sputtering incoherent comments about surviving the Royals.

«I never knew Humans could imitate us so perfectly! Ask him if he wants to mate?»

"Zen thinks you do a good nuptial dance and wants to mate with you, Centurion. I suggest you decline quickly!" said Ovid with a smirk.

Upon hearing that offer, the Centurion produced a strangled cry and jumped off the floor, making a mad dash for the doors.

"From Snake to Rabbit, from Predator to Prey, all that in the blink of an eye. Humans will always amaze me!" commented Mark, as Zen pouted.

The hallway was currently occupied by a Centurie of Wolves, and they saw the Centurion come at a full run toward them. To their total surprise, the Human jumped over them like an Olympic hurdle runner and disappeared at the corner, just in time to crash into a Centurie of Elves and landed head first at the feet of Enron.

"Hey there, Centurion! I never expected to get that level of servility! What brought on this behaviour?"

"Sssss... Ssssnaake!"

"Oh! You met Zen! Is he not cute? I like his gold scales!"

"We are governed by nut cases! A Royal Cobra is on their table and all they can say is ‘is he not cute?’!" replied the Centurion, too freaked out to consider whom he was talking to.

"Hey there! I am one of the freaks in question!" exclaimed Enron, looking crossly at the Centurion. "Now, off the floor and get back to your Centurie before I kick your butt into next week!"

The Centurion stood up and scampered toward the door. Enron’s temper was well-known, even scarier than a Snake! Paschal and Colibri watched the exchange grinning evily at the Centurion, making it clear they were not going to intervene in the exchange. Harold kept a neutral mien, even after a pleading look from the Centurion.

The two Boys kept a weary eye on the next Centurie, wondering if they would face another incident right after getting rid of the Legionnaire Centurion. They quickly noticed that the next group, composed of Wolves, were more dignified in their approach, walking in solemnly to their position on the left side of the Mess Hall. Greywolf made his way to the table and sat down to the right of Mark, keeping his Wolf form.

«What happened? That Centurion is not known for athletic performance, even if he is a good strategist.»

«You talk like that too?» asked Zen, surprised.

«We all do. Unfortunately, the number of telepaths, even if it is on the rise, is still limited.»

«As for what happened, he met Zen face to face after acting aggressively toward us. Why do you say he is not known for athletic performances? He did a remarkable Snake mating dance, and then converted to a Rabbit, putting them to shame!» replied Ovid.

«Oh! I understand, now! As for his athletic performance, have you seen his circumference? He would probably do better rolling on his side than walking. He has a beer belly worthy of a tavern pillar. We tried all we could to improve his physique, but short of putting him in a stasis pod and rebuilding his body, nothing works. Enron thinks his problem is genetic, and he considers the effort to rebuild the genetic map to remove that inconvenience too much trouble, especially since he will not live long due to lack of Magic.»

«What do you mean?»

«He is already 45 years old. His genetics have programmed his death at 65, and with the help of our best medical care, he will barely reach 75. By then, his body will have degenerated to the point nothing will save him. On the other hand, had he possessed Magic, we could have taught him how to use the magical field to regenerate his body.»

«I thought everyone had a magical core?»

«We all do. The issue is his core is microscopic. He is rated at M-300. I know your theoretical knowledge of Magic is minimal, Boys, so I shall explain. Magic is measured on as a function of ¹/_x. If you think this out, the bigger the x, the nearer to zero the power; inversely the lower the x, the more power flows. This means a Mage of level two is half as powerful as a Mage of level one. It is a sort of measure of resistance to Magic flow. The curve goes nuts past one. The closer we get to zero, the greater the power. The fact that Magic can be multiplied by combining a number of Mages’ power adds to the complexity of the whole question. The poor Centurion is highly resistant to Magic, so is unable to use his core, or, for that matter, unable to collect Magic to let his core grow. If we drain his core, he will die, unable to replenish his reserves.»

«What about the Royals?» asked Zen.

«They have next to no resistance, in effect, they are almost perfect conduits for it. When they combine their powers, it is like a bigger pipe. Magic flows more liberally. If you want more information, ask Harp. What I told you is what I understood from brief discussions with Ian, Harp and Paschal. Like any theory, it may fall to the wayside if things do not add up later.»

«That seems to be complicated!»

«It is, Ovid. I get lost in all these mathematical functions. I am not even sure I have the right one! But does it matter? What really matters is that there is Magic, and that there are people with lots of it and others who could not move a grain of sand even if their life depended on it.»

After a brief break in the chat, Greywolf noted:

«The Centurion is coming back. I suspect he met someone even more scary than you, Zen.»

«If he tries anything as stupid as earlier today, I shall show him who is the scarier!» commented Zen, hissing at the Centurion. Said Centurion duly noted the hiss and moved to the end of the bench assigned to his Centurie rather than right beside the central passage between the rows of tables.

The other Royals made their way to the table, talking to the Centurions as they progressed into the vast room. Enron saw the place occupied by the carpet Centurion and smirked, much to Yamato’s and Rockhook’s surprise. A short explanation later told the story. The adventure was recounted with some barely concealed snickers had brought the other Royals up to date on the gymnastic prowess of the Centurion.

"Had I known it only took a Snake to get that Centurion to train properly, I would have called on one a long time ago!" exclaimed Sitar, much to the amusement of the Royals and the embarrassment of the poor target. "I wonder how many of our older recruits would benefit from this regimen?"

"I thought getting bested by Toddlers was enough?" Annabelle asked as she looked disapprovingly at the Centurion.

"It is not so, apparently," replied Harold.

Samson looked at the young Elf and noted he was currently petting Zen with affection.

"So, are you ready for today’s work, Mark?"

"I am not sure! I think I still have some training to undergo."

"It is as good an answer as any. I prefer that to an overconfident Mage that ends in jelly. I have a more complicated question for you, and you are in no obligation to answer."

"That question is bound to be embarrassing if you put that proviso before!"

"Maybe it is. Mark, how come you have Ovid as a Brother? You are Elvin, and he is not."

"I got adopted," replied Ovid. "The old Man was always pointing it out and calling me a good-for-nothing Human. If anything went wrong, I was the culprit and got beaten up for it. Mark tried to protect me, but the bastard simply doubled the dose, punching both of us out cold."

"I see. You will have your day."

"I plan to get even. Magic has its use!"

"We plan to get even, Ovid. And I plan to make sure he knows his Son is one of these creeps he so hates. Vengeance is best savoured slowly! I wonder when we shall go deal with the old Man?"

"That is next, after we are done transferring the Caterpillar to its new home within Thebes." commented Thorsten. "If things go as planned, we do it tonight!"

"Let us eat!" declared Harp, as he materialised food on the tables. "We have a long day ahead of us. Fill up!"

***

The Boys and Zen practised line of sight porting to reach the Tessaract from the Mess Hall. After a quick review of shields, they practiced anchoring with Runt hidden in a lower level tessaract. Satisfied that all was fine, Runt declared them fit to be tied, much to their surprise.

"What we shall be doing is nuts. You must absolutely hold your shield while we are on the other side of the wall. Get ready. Create your shield."

After a few minutes, all three trainees had their shield and Runt validated their integrity. Nodding in approbation, he told them it was time to create an atmosphere within the bubbles.

"Transfer atoms of Oxygen and Nitrogen slowly at first. Once you get the feel, open a narrow gated channel between this area and the bubble. Good sense should tell you it is preferable to take the air from a certain distance away unless you want a blow-job! Getting sucked in a hole is rather painful!"

"When will we know to close the gate?" asked Ovid.

"When the pressure equalises, meaning no more noise of suction."

«What about temperature?»

«That is important. Temperature is expressed by the movement of gases. You will need to keep the kinetic energy of the molecules of gas at a comfortable level by using Magic. Know this: if you see frost on the inside of the bubble, it is getting cold, so you need to increase the input of Magic.»

«Frost?»

«When the conduit opens, it will allow not only Oxygen and Nitrogen inside the bubble, but all gases, including carbon dioxide and water vapour. The water vapour will condense into water and then freeze. Increase atomic mobility of the Nitrogen and Oxygen molecules and the heat will transfer to the water."

«Ok.»

"One last thing. We shall work quickly and exchange the gas contents of the bubbles between each port. I do not think you are ready to work at dissociating carbon dioxide into Carbon and Oxygen so you can breath it again. It is a highly energetic process and you could literally explode your bubble if you put too much energy into it."

"Wow. No thank you. I want to stay alive!" said Ovid, while Mark nodded vigourously.

"Start the filling of your bubble."

After ten minutes, the apprentice Sorcerers had it pat and were ready to open their regulator valves to let in some atmosphere.

"Go slow. Sense the power of the suction!"

Gradually, the channel valves were let open to a quarter of the potential flow, and a roar could be heard from their side of the partition. After another ten minutes, the roar was gradually fading.

"You can open your valves further. The diminishing roar indicates that the two areas are nearing parity in pressure."

The neophytes moved their valve by Magic and reached full opening five minutes later.

"Hey, why is there ice on my valve?" asked Mark.

"That is the consequence of a gas expanding in a low-pressure area. As it expands, it cools off, creating conditions that favour the formation of ice from water vapour. Now is the time to increase kinetic energy in the gas on the other side. When you hear a very faint sound, stop. That means the temperature on the other side is slightly above the temperature on this side. Come to think of it, I shall tell you. My hearing is a thousand times more sensitive than yours."

It took a few minutes for the reverse flow to begin. The Runt signalled to the apprentice Mages to stop feeding kinetic energy into the molecules of their bubble.

«Harp! We shall be in our bubble in a few seconds. Is your port team ready?»

«Yes, we are. Colibri, Thorsten, Timor, Lord Agramon, Enron, Rockhook, Paschal, Sitar, and I are all in our segment. We want to speed things up. Each port will be at two minutes interval before you get a break. That means be ready for nine consecutive ports!»

«Ok. The segments will be stacked in a three by three pile, in zero gravity. Is that what you want?»

«Yes.»

«We are porting in our respective bubble in two seconds. Ready to port, Boys! Port! We are in. Do you read?»

«Colibri here. I am doing the first port. Focus! Porting!»

The four anchors saw a huge cylinder appear between their bubbles.

«Port successful!» reported Colibri. «I am leaving the segment to reach the anchor we left in segment ten.»

«Acknowledged, Colibri. One minute and 30 seconds to next port!» directed Harp.

«Thorsten here. I have my anchors. Focus! Porting!»

The process repeated itself without a glitch for the first nine segments.

«Return to the pressurised layer of the Tessaract! We need a break!» ordered the Runt to his apprentices.

"Ok. All went nicely, but it is not an excuse to act rashly. I want you to exchange the air in the bubbles with fresh air taken from the layer below us. It contains only inert material, so it can get filled with carbon dioxide with no ill effect. In a week, Thebes’ ventilation will have re-established the proper ratio."

"If I get this, I have to create another conduit leading downstairs, sort of. And I must heat up the gases so they leave the bubble."

"You have two of the steps right, Ovid. However, do not forget to close the valve of the intake conduit, or you will get us flooded with carbon dioxide."

"Oh yes! I forgot that."

"You learn by committing mistakes."

«Do I not know it!» lamented Zen. «I underestimated the temperature of my bubble and felt sluggish for a few minutes. I had to heat up the sphere considerably to wake up!»

«That is the inconvenience of being cold-blooded, Zen. You will learn to maintain a local environmental temperature comfortable for you in time. That is one of the many advantages of Magic.»

The exchange of atmosphere progressed rapidly, taking twenty minutes at most. After that the apprentices took a well-deserved break.

«We are ready to move back in our pressurised spheres, Harp.»

«And we are ready to port the last six segments as well. This time it is Enron, Sitar, Paschal, Ian, Alexander and I that will do the port, in that order.»

The next six ports went perfectly and the six porters jumped into the pressurised tessaract layer after finishing their job.

«Ok, guys. This next lesson is an extension of anchor porting. This time it is yourself you will port, using us as anchors. Zen, do be careful. I may not be tall, but you do not want a repeat of your last training accident!» said Harp.

This time, Zen did not overcompensate too much, only materialising two feet above the floor, much to his satisfaction.

«Why did we do that? We did a lot of this type of porting yesterday!»

«Zen, practice makes perfect. For instance, Ovid sliced his shoe soles by a eight of an inch this time. He still needs to adjust properly, even after all the exercises yesterday. So do you. After all, you did overshot by two feet.»

"Now, let us finish the cleanup. De-pressurise your bubbles by doing the same thing we did earlier to replace the carbon dioxide. This time, heat the gases to 5,000° Fahrenheit until the temperature begins to drop. You will notice that the gases will leave by the valve. Gradually fold the bubble on itself as the pressure drops so as to maintain it constant. Once the bubble is completely collapsed, there will be no residual gases on one side of the valve. Close it and cool it off. Then completely collapse the bubble, recovering the last atoms of atmosphere as you do so," directed the Runt.

After half an hour, Harp and the Runt were satisfied of the void created within each bubble, which had by now been reduced to the size of a tennis ball.

"Close the valve and collapse the residual sphere." ordered the Runt.

A few minutes later everything was said and done.

"Ok. Let us move to the Bridge. Typhoon must be getting impatient," decided Harp. "I want to be on the Bridge when the show begins!"

***

The trainees played hop and port to reach the Bridge with the porting team. Once they reached the Bridge, Harp took his seat at the Science station and the Runt took over the Weapons station from his Dad.

"I gather everything is done?" enquired Typhoon.

"Yes. It went like clockwork," replied Harp.

"Ok. Go on red alert!" ordered the Dragon King.

The klaxons resonated through Thebes, informing everyone they needed to find a safe seat. A few minutes later, Typhoon began giving orders.

"Shields to full power! Transfer energy to the shields! Rockhook, jump behind the furthest planet, that blue giant! Put us in polar orbit!"

As Thebes appeared in the space continuum, it collided violently with a Moon, reducing it to shreds and destabilising the orbit of the rings that encircled the blue planet.

"Damage report?"

"None. Our force field disintegrated the rock on contact, exploding the Moon to big chunks. The space around the area is hectic due to the Moon’s sudden dispersal."

"I am surprised there was a Moon where I took us, Typhoon. Normally, bodies orbit at the Equator. Maybe that Moon got captured by the planet."

"I am not trying to lay blame, Rockhook. Mishaps happen. Is this the planet of origin for the Insects?"

"So far, the reports are negative. I must admit I am not sure what to look for," replied Harp. "Somehow, I doubt it. Had it been so, we should see a flow of ships leaving the planet’s atmosphere. And the sensors report the atmosphere does not match the Insects’ space ships’ atmosphere."

"Ok. Where to next?"

"There is another gas giant much closer to the Primary. It was undetected until we did the jump. It seems to be similar to Jupiter, whereas the current planet we are orbiting is similar to Uranus. The proximity to the Primary lets me believe it is a potential homeland for the Insects."

"Why?"

"I can just imagine the updrafts in that thick atmosphere! We were wondering how the Insects could escape the gravity well of a gaseous giant. Updrafts would do the job nicely."

"Ready for another jump, Rockhook?"

"Give me a few minutes to establish a safer exit point. It is nice we can materialise near a Moon, ram into it at the speed of light, and survive, but I would prefer we limited the number of such exercises!"

A few minutes later Rockhook propelled Thebes to the next hop.

"Bingo! Look at the number of Insect ships leaving the planet using gaseous plumes! We are seeing veritable atmospheric volcanoes pushing the atmosphere to near-orbit!" exclaimed Harp with enthusiasm. "It is quite a show! Finally, we understand how they manage to leave their gravity well without blowing their planet up! Just look at that huge storm! It reminds me of Jupiter’s Red Spot, but with a lot more ferocity! Its cloud top climbs way beyond normal atmosphere and falls back in a mushroom deformed by the Coriolis effect."

"Study their methods for a while. We seem to be undetected," decided Typhoon. "The moment we see some of their ships head our way is the instant where I will introduce them to my namesake!"

Harp kept a running comment on what his sensors reported, for the benefit of the crew.

"Hey, I notice their space ships change shape once they reach orbit. Until they do, they have an umbrella shape, and then that part suddenly folds and gets ejected toward the planet. I wonder if it is not some form of reusable booster?"

"Do the umbrella burn on re-entry?"

"No. it seems a smaller umbrella unfolds from the stalk and slows the falling part down sufficiently to prevent such a mishap."

"So this indicates an intent of reuse."

"Guys, we have been spotted!" warned the Runt.

"Ok. Rockhook, dive in the atmosphere at half the speed of light. Let us see if they are able to deal with Thebes’ draft. Stay five mile above the surface. Complicate things for them by going counter to the wind direction. I suspect they use the bands to travel. Faced with us, they will have issues!"

"You are terrible, you know that?"

"Yes, Rockhook, I know that!"

Thebes’ massive body dove into the thick atmosphere, immersing itself completely in the gaseous element enveloping the huge planet. Its passage created havoc, vortexes that twisted the Coriolis winds savagely, and destroyed their relative harmony. As the sphere of Thebes progressed, it pushed the gases around itself, some downward toward the surface, creating winds that tore to shreds anything that might have been standing on the surface of the planet. Other parts of the atmosphere were pushed upward, suddenly expanding in the low-pressure areas and cooling to the point the main components of the atmosphere condensed into a form of yellow-greenish snow.

"We are nearing that huge vortex. Should I enter it?"

"Yes. In fact, go counter to its movement and do three full rotations around its centre. Let us see how this is dealt with by the storm."

Thebes’ mass broke the inertia of the vortex quickly and its lifting effect disappeared completely. The net result was a temporary inversion, as the void created by Thebes sucked in the gases.

"That is temporary," noted Harp. "Nature will regain its rights once we leave."

"How long before this mess rights itself?"

"Dynamics of fluids tells me it will take a week," replied AI-6. "And it might even be possible that our passage along the main Coriolis winds will create numerous much smaller vortexes, in effect stopping their use to eject ships into space."

"Ok. Rockhook, do another passage along the southern bands, counter to their movement."

"Sure. It should be done in a minute or two."

"I just detected a series of violent explosions in the northern hemisphere," the Runt noted.

"Harp? Do you have any suggestions?"

"Remember we wondered how they made metals because they could not light a match in their atmosphere? We are the match, a big match! What you are seeing is the result of heating up the atmosphere by our passage."

"We are done. I am moving to a circumpolar orbit so we can monitor the result of our intervention," reported Rockhook.

"Maintain full shields. They have millions of space ships in orbit and we shall be their prime target!" ordered Typhoon. "Project strategic position on main screen! I also want a view of the planet on the right screen!"

The view of the planet was nightmarish. Huge explosions propagated on its surface; raging cold fires rose from its surface to highs nearing several hundred miles, propagating at the speed of sound as they were pushed by the ferocious winds. An occasional spaceship made it to the top of the atmosphere but in such poor condition it detonated upon reaching the void of space.

"Some days, I feel bad," commented Ian, as he watched the developments from his seat.

"Why is that so, my Lord?" asked the Runt.

"Are you aware we just committed a planet-wide genocide? We are no better than that god that wiped off the Humans."

The comment weighed heavily on the conscience of the Bridge crew. What could they say to alleviate their guilt?

"Hey! Wait! That was a natural phenomenon! The Elohim claimed a god did it to impress the survivors with their capacity to intervene upon that divine entity. They had nothing to do with it."

"At least, they only claimed responsibility, we must assume it for it is real!"

"Before entering into deep guilt-driven depression, I think we need to find the planet where the Marsupials reside and see what is happening. We might find some solace in this."

"Paschal is right. Harp! Try locating the Marsupials’ planet."

"That will be more difficult. An Earth-like planet is a microscopic dot in space, especially with all the garbage flying around!"

"Use all necessary resources."

"Ok. I am sending out sensors toward the green belt of both stars. If there is a viable planet, it has to be in those regions."

"Do not forget that the two primary stars are getting nearer. It might affect the orbit of their respective planetary cortege," commented Paschal.

"Thanks for reminding me of that, Brother. I shall nonetheless start within the life-sustaining belt of both stars. If I find nothing, it will be time to expand the search for the dead or dying planets."

"Six hundred sensors have been ported to this primary’s green belt." reported AI-1. "Channels are open for reception and data transmission is checking out."

"I have located the green belt of the second primary. I am also porting six hundred sensors into the area," added AI-2. "The sensors are reporting properly."

"I have an incoming strategic report from AI-3. The Insects are getting close to firing range. Should we open fire when they are within that distance?"

"Display their locations in a three-dimensional projection!" ordered Typhoon.

The projection created on the Bridge’s floor level showed Thebes in a deep green dot, and all around it, in red flashing dots, the approaching Insect ships. Some distance to the side was the Insect home world.

"If I get this right, they will have left the other side of the planet entirely by the time they reach half-range?" questioned Typhoon.

"Yes, your projection is correct," said Sitar.

"What kind of fuel do they use?"

"Hydrogen jets. Why?" Harp replied questioningly.

"They must not carry that much fuel. After all, the lighter they are the easier it is for the updrafts to kick them into space. Have we found a fuelling station in orbit?"

"That might be the rather strange-looking rock we saw when we came into orbit."

"Where is it?"

"It got dragged down when Thebes pushed the atmosphere in its path. It detonated on re-entry."

"What makes you think it was a fuelling station, Harp?" asked Sitar.

"It had long booms that seemed to extend to the Insects’ ships."

"That is as good a reason as any."

"Ok. Decision: we port Thebes on the opposite side of the planet as soon as they reach a quarter of our firing range. They will spend precious time trying to locate us, and even more precious fuel trying to get to us. Rockhook, calculate the next emergence point so it is clear of debris. When we port, I want us to go invisible a millisecond before the port. Their only way to detect us will be by gravitational effects."

"A clear field is next to impossible to find near the planet. We might find some near a Moon, but they are small and Thebes’ mass will affect their orbit markedly."

"Troubles! Troubles! When shall we stop dealing with troubles?" moaned Typhoon.

"When we are dead!" replied Rockhook.

"I got your point, Rockhook. It contains mostly dust and small rocks. Our presence should go unnoticed for a while."

"Thank you, Harp. We jump in 1.0124 minutes."

"Oh no! Not you too!" complained Harp. "It took me years to teach the Artificial Intelligences the art of approximate language and now you start with these absurd number!"

"I could delay by 3.14159265359 seconds, if you wish?"

"GRR!"

"Instead of teasing each other, guys, focus on the task at hand! The Insects are almost at our selected jump range!" commented the Runt.

«I do not get how you can tell these are predators. I can not taste them!» wondered Zen.

«It is not their taste that tells us they are predators, it is their behaviour.» replied Typhoon. «Have you learned incremental porting yet, my snaky friend?»

«I have not had enough time to teach them this form of transport,» replied the Runt.

«Hurry up. The next batch of Dragonlings is due to hatch within a week, and I want these three to be ready to bond with their personal Dragon. If things go as planned, by the time we reach our destination, they should be fully shift-capable. Harp, I know you have a busy schedule, but what are your plans for them?»

«I plan to transfer magical ethics tomorrow, mind to mind. Then, after they have nursed their headache, I shall give them a bigger one with magical theory. The jump went off perfectly, Rockhook. The displacement of the dust by our materialisation only created a few orbital changes. The Insects are freaking out. They are shooting at our previous location and their fire hits them instead. Their action indicates they believe it is Thebes firing at them from its invisible position. Ah, the pleasure of friendly fire!»

«If you do not mind, Harp, I shall train them in progressive translocation tomorrow at the College of Magic. You still have your regular ethics course in the morning?»

«Yes.»

«Then I shall use one of the arenas to train them. Come join us when you are done.»

«Ok, Runt. I usually finish at sext. By then, the students are ready to kill me!»

«It is better than having to shower them in icy water to wake them up! One of our Mathematics Teachers could put to sleep a group of hyperactive Boys running on five cups of espresso.»

«What does he teach exactly?»

«Fibrous space Mathematics, topography, and tensor surface. All are pre-requisite to the next course, which I happen to give, Mathematics of Magic Field theory. I usually start the course with a one-week review of what they have supposedly learned in the other course, and I quickly realise they have slept through the entire class.»

«Put some fire in that jerk’s class, then. He is not doing his job.»

«Typhoon, if I roast his nuts, we might not have a Teacher.»

«The Insects have stopped firing at each other. I was wondering when they would realise the error of their ways.» commented Harp as he watched the sensor reports. "They are sending search parties around the planet to try and locate us. Given their numbers, it will take them days to find us. And a few are so low on fuel they are falling back in the atmosphere uncontrolled, burning up on re-entry, creating secondary high-atmosphere infernos."

«Zen, while we wait, I can begin teaching you how to read,» offered Ovid.

«Me too!» added Mark. «Thebes, can you get us a first-grader reading book?»

«I could, but I suggest that you create your own reading material. ‘The ball rolls away from Tom. Tom runs after the ball.’ will not be of much interest to a Snake.»

«What do you suggest?»

«Zen slithers toward the mouse. The mouse runs away from Zen. Zen corners the mouse. The mouse peeps in fright. Zen strikes the mouse, killing it with a single, swift bite.»

«That seems a lot more interesting. However, for some reason, mice are losing their appeal.» commented Zen.

«It is normal, Zen. You are growing up, and your normal prey is other Snakes. You are a King Cobra after all.» replied Enron.

«Oh? Is that so? And I thought I was going kinky with this sudden interest in eating long objects!»

«I shall call you kinky if you try eating a broomstick!» replied Harold, from the Imperial chair.

«Talk about having a stiff spine!» added Sitar.

"Has anyone found out how the Insects communicate?" asked Typhoon, as he was getting bored with all the off-topic exchanges.

"I tried all radio frequencies, to no avail. Thebes is scanning other frequencies, including light," replied Felicia.

"What kind of signal would work effectively within that gaseous giant?" asked Enron.

"It is unlikely visible light would travel far within that soup. The atmosphere is opaque to the 350 micro-meter to the 750 micro-meter wavelengths. On the other hand, there is a lot of radio waves coming from the planet itself. It is a noise background. To further complicate things, the primary emits copious amounts of pico-metric wavelengths. The only bandwidth available is in the kilometre range. This has consequences on transmissions."

«Can they just not hiss, like I do?»

«On their planet, it might well be the favoured means of communication, given their anatomy, Zen. However, in space, there is no medium to carry the sound waves, so it is noiseless,» replied Harp.

«Noiseless? How come all those Ancient movies have space ships whooshing around in space?» asked Ovid, dumbfounded.

«Movies of the Ancients were far from realistic. It seems the listeners expected a sound, so they had to put in sound.»

"What can their anatomy tell us?" asked Sitar.

"That they have what we think are ears, huge eyes, and vibrissae, but it is impossible to validate any of these speculations. Their interior ended carpeting the walls the moment we breached their space suits."

"And their space suits?" asked Typhoon.

"We have an intact one, but it is kept in a class 10 containment field due to the danger of contamination. Until we can clear it up, it is not accessible for careful engineering analysis," said Paschal.

"Nothing seems to work for us in this endeavour," said Harold.

"Such is life, my Emperor. We need to learn to expect the unexpected," replied Typhoon.

"There is a wing of Insect ships headed to our position," Harp informed the Bridge. "They will intercept us in two hours 22 minutes, 15 seconds and seven..."

"Stop! Do not play with my nerves with excessive precision!" said Typhoon.

"I suggest we port to the Mess Hall for a quick lunch and restroom break," suggested Harold. "Stress is eating us up and a filled stomach will do a world of good to bring back good humour on the Bridge."

"Fanfir! You have the Bridge from Secondary command! I shall be back on Main in one hour and 45 minutes!" decided Typhoon, who understood an order even if it was worded as a suggestion. "We shall have a quick lunch and do some flying in the Dragons Tessaract afterward. I believe my mood is due to sitting here too long. Who wants to come?"

"The Bridge crew all volunteered.

"I shall take the Boys and Zen up with me," decided Typhoon. "Who picks up Tom and Jerry? I do not want them to feel left out. You know how they enjoy flying!"

"I shall pop up at school to pick them up. They should be near the end of the day," volunteered Timor. "I have to talk to the Staff anyway. Tom came home with a black eye, and Jerry told me there was some bullying from a group of needle dicks right in front of the Staff. I shall endeavour to put the fear of the Trolls in their pea brains."

"Why is it we can never live in peace?" wondered the Runt.

"Because some will always feel they are being maligned even if the facts prove otherwise. And others see the slightest difference as cause to belittle the different, be it because the difference lies in gender, sexual interest, skin colour, hairiness, facial features, or morphology. It is a constant fight against bigotry, and the diversity of Atlanteans seem to exacerbate the expression of these deplorable actions in certain individuals. Luckily, we are keeping track of the genetic maps of those individuals and hope to reduce the propensity of the behaviours in time."

"You seem to believe that the behaviour has a genetic basis?" wondered Ovid.

"It is a debate that has been raging since the Ancients. Colibri sustains it is learned behaviour, whist I sustain it is genetic," replied Enron.

"Could it be both? For instance, fundamentally, a bigoted individual is characterised by some behaviour, say, an ingrained insecurity. When confronted with someone different, he or she feels threatened, and lashes out. The way of lashing out might be learned from parents, who taught their offspring how to deal with insecurity in their own way. The insecure group themselves according to what makes them feel inadequate, share adaptation methods, and transfer between each other these inappropriate behaviours, which they then teach to their own offspring. And how do you deal with pre-natal environmental pressures? Say a Mother is abandoned by a Father or is mistreated during pregnancy. Could it be that the feeling of insecurity gets transferred through the blood to the foetus? After all, I read somewhere in my anatomy class that emotions are driven by hormonal fluxes. Who says a nervous system undergoing intense construction is not influenced by these hormonal fluxes to the point of hard-wiring insecurity?"

"Ovid, your depth of analysis surprises me. Young one, you are hereby recruited as part of the biological research team! Report to the biology laboratory as soon as this crisis is over."

"Ok. But what about my brothers Mark and Zen?"

"They will find their own interests in time. Meanwhile, they can accompany you to the laboratory."

"Hey, Enron! I have first pick on the Boys. They need to undergo intense magical training, and their schooling, however remarkable Ovid’s analysis of the problem may be, is severely lacking. The laboratory work will come after school work!" replied Harp, as he was headed with the group to the porting node.

"Why are we using the nodes again?" asked Mark.

"We are under Red alert, and the space ship may port at any moment. Using the nodes ensures we do not materialise in space," replied Harp. "Nodes dematerialise us and re-materialise us at our destination whilst using internal energy flux and quantum stabiliser grids during the transport. Ask Paschal about the technical aspects of this if you are interested. He is the one that did the Mathematics and schematics for these nodes in Atlantis II as the Grand Architect."

"I always wanted to know how things worked."

"Yes you did! That is why you dismantled the clock and lost half the springs in the process!"

"Hey, I was three years old! The tic - tac sound fascinated me, and I was sure there was a Fairy knocking on some drum set inside!"

"It got us our first whipping! My arse still remembers the sting of the belt."

"So does mine! But the bastard never learned who had taken the innards of his clock out and spread it all over the kitchen floor. One for all, all for one! We always stood together, come sunshine or high water!"

"Remember the day he went hunting and found out all his arrows had been delicately sawed to near breaking point? That was hilarious! The bastard probably won the tree-climbing award of the century as he ran away from the Bear!"

"Oh yes! And the fool climbed up a tree too small to support his weight and the poor Bear he had been teasing with his pin pricks. It bent down and he had to jump off, which sent the Bear flying in the air into the pond. The Bear’s temper was not cooled down in any way! We got another whipping for that one, not that he needed an excuse."

"Do you remember our first day in our new home after we had been relocated to Eloise?"

"The quick cement and epoxy mix? We had done nothing that day... yet... but he was furious at his relocation and intent on making us pay for it. I made him run after me on a thin wood plank that supported my weight but not his and he fell through, falling waist-deep in quick cement and epoxy. It took the neighbours three days to break him out of his prison!"

"He spent all three days in imprecations and threats, while we kept laughing at his face. He was so enraged we hoped he would die of a heart attack. Unfortunately, it did not happen. Old Pigs seem to be resistant."

"His throat was so sore from yelling he could not talk for two weeks!"

"And he hates Dogs from that day on. I wonder how many Dogs came to pee on him like a fire hydrant? Come to think of it, just about every Canine did it, be it Dog, Wolf, Fox, or Coyote. I heard from a laughing neighbour there was even a Hyena pack that took pleasure lifting the leg on him every morning. He was sore from the knees down. I knew Canine pee can burn grass, but I never knew it could burn through cement and clothing. His lower legs were raw."

"So was our hide when he finally caught up with us."

"But it was worth it!"

"All of it! And ten times more."

"You Boys will fit in the gang just nicely!" suddenly commented Harp, as he finally managed to control his laughter.

"Maybe we should go into hiding Harold! I shall not live to old age with the number of pranksters around!"

"Hey, you are old compared to me, Samson. If I remember, you are the same age as Nestor, and he is not a spring flower!"

"I must admit I lost count after 1,500 years. After that, who cares for a decade?"

"My point exactly!"

"I do feel a lot younger than my count indicates. I wonder if it is not another Tessaract Effect?"

"Probably, Dad."

"You know, Enron, I might consider asking for a new body just to stay around longer and get more time to get even with you and your prank buddies!"

"Dad, your new body is waiting in one of the long-haul stasis pods. Paschal has already rebuilt everyone’s body and has a mental state imprint stored for all of us should an accident occur. The only issue we have is should we make you age past puberty or not? I want you at young adult, and Paschal believes you need to relive puberty. Knowing our natural propensity at mood swings, I believe this would be risky, especially since you will also inherit your current shape maps and magical levels, which are growing still."

"A mental state map?" asked Harold.

"It is a memory dump, including long-term, intermediate, immediate, and ideitic. Even your sensory maps are preserved. You will never know you changed body until you look at yourselves in a mirror."

"And how deep does that go?"

"All Mages of level three or above."

"That was my next question. When I asked about depth, it is how far back in time is the data kept?"

"Oh. The record is kept on a period of three months, in a running window. Paschal and I discussed the necessity to give a measure of time flow, and the only solution was this. It is not that older memories are lost, but, as you know, when you try to recall events in time the further you go the more confusing things get. This is especially true of the sequence of events."

"And how many copies are there?"

"Fifteen copies of each snapshot is kept and cross-validated constantly until disposal or use."

"I wonder when you take the snapshots?"

"During sleep, while you are not dreaming. Your brain has a regular pattern and it helps anchor the recording by feeding tic points."

"And you say we have bodies waiting for us?" asked Diamondcutter.

"Yes."

"That must take a lot of space!"

"Not really. Diamondcutter, I never did take you into the primary stasis pod chamber, at the core of Thebes, did I?"

"No. Where is that?"

"Remember the Crystals? They are located in that area and their primary function, even before supplying energy to Thebes, is to sustain these pods. There are six huge rooms, containing several million long-term stasis pods. That is where the bodies are stored. It also contains the core identity of all Artificial Intelligences, linked directly to the Pyramids. Also found in the area is the genetic map of every living thing in Thebes. If need be, we could rebuild everybody from scrap. Holographic memory modules are static and consume no energy except during cross-validation, so they do not even show on the consumption charts."

"It must be filling up quickly?"

"No, Amethyst. The number of class three and above Mages is limited. We are adding some on a weekly basis, but the number is relatively limited."

"Oh!"

"In fact, the biggest increase in there was the introduction of Zen and the two new Boys. Imagine! Three new pods assigned in a single day!"

"I have a second body somewhere?" asked Mark, freaking out!

"It is not yet so, Mark. Your new body is under construction from the genetic map we did while you slept last night. Remember that sterile cotton swab I had you rub your inner cheeks with? That was to get cells from your mouth. Zen’s last moult supplied us with his map."

Timor made his way back to the entrance of the Dragons’ Tessaract while carrying a very upset Jerry while Tom gripped his fur in a death grip.

"What happened?" asked Harold.

"When I tried to talk to the Staff, they first denied there was bullying. Unfortunately for them, the two Boys were in the middle of a fight in the school’s dining Hall with a group of about 20 upperclassmen, and holding their own. Their school stuff was thrown all over the place, their clothes torn, and Jerry had several bruises on his ribs. I asked them what that was, and they had the guts to say the Boys were being taunted, and that Boys were Boys. Needless to say, I slammed in the fight and sent the bullies flying in all directions, no punches held back. We have an additional 20 long-term healing pods occupied tonight."

"Is that all? I am surprised it did not go further!"

"It did. The Staff dared call me on my actions. Now, I just hope Violin has a number of school managers in reserve."

"Why?"

"I fed them to the Piranhas."

"Ok. And why is Jerry so upset?"

"He lost an eye in the fight. Harp? Can you look into it?"

"Sure."

While Harp checked Jerry, Harold continued the interrogation.

"And what is Tom’s issue?"

"Rage, and believe me, it is not nice to see! But also, two broken canines and a broken nose. One of the older guys kicked him in the face while he tried to protect Jerry after he lost his left eye. It must still be numb, but I think we will need to extract the two teeth and regenerate them in a stasis pod. As for the broken nose, Magic should do the trick."

"I wonder how far it went?"

"Tom was so furious he jumped at the neck of the biggest brute and bit him at the carotid. It was a killing bite. That one, I did not bother with sending him to the Fishes. He is now feeding the meat-eating Ants. His best friend tried to save the bastard by kicking at Tom’s head. It only served to leave the two canines’ upper part in the gaping wound."

"I shall bring them to the Imperial stasis pods for emergency care, Timor. Come with me. It should be done in a few minutes. Sorry, Jerry, your eye is a lost cause and will be regenerated. You should be as good as new in two days. You too, Tom. Boys, you did good. No one should harass you. Believe me, when these arse holes are out of stasis, I shall be holding a public hearing on their attitude at school. You must not be the only ones they bugger."

"Most definitely not! I saw quite a few Boys with limps, broken wrists and arms, not to mention broken teeth and crocked noses. You will have a lot of witnesses for prosecution. I plan to have two Orcs and two Trolls conduct an in-depth examination of that school’s handling of bullying. It will stop."

"Good. But do stay at arm’s length. I do not want a Crocodile, err, Lawyer claiming biased enquiry."

"Ok, Harold. I did not know we still had some of those around, given your ruling the losing party loses his head."

As the four left the Dragons’ Tessaract for the Imperial Suite’s medical centre, the others took to flying, trying to relax in view of the upcoming tense hours.