Galactica: Book 1 - Via Lactea

 

"So, Son, have you decided what to do now?" asked Harold, as Ian studied a star map projection in the Navigation Room.

"We are slowly making our progress toward the Galaxy’s edge, toward a pair of dwarf galaxies part of the Local Group, the Magellan Clouds. Granted I can not justify this choice with reason, Dad, but I feel a powerful call in that direction. Do not ask me why, but it is sort of a hunch to drive that way."

"And what about Andromeda?"

"That one is next on my ‘to visit’ list."

"I hope you are aware that the Andromeda galaxy is at the opposite side of the galaxy from our current path?"

"Oh, yes!"

"And why are we travelling at warp nine, rather than use the more powerful jumps?"

"That is another thing. I have a deep-rooted feeling we must travel at warp speed, not transwarp, or quantum jump speed. Do not ask me why, but it is that way."

"Intuitive flying infuriates me!"

"Dad, we shall know shortly so why cut carrots length-wise?"

"Shortly? Are you nuts? At warp nine, we shall reach the Large Magellan Cloud, located 160,000 light-years away, in about 106 years!"

"So?"

"So? So, I shall be long dead! And you too!"

"Oh, come on Dad! Remember how long our brother Harp lived in his last incarnation as Mage? Stop thinking in Human terms! We are all Mages, and Harp is several orders of magnitude more powerful than he was in his previous incarnation as Merlin! Even if you are slightly less powerful than he is, you will be around far longer than you would care for."

"Still..."

"Dad, I think what is calling me is a lot closer than the Magellan Clouds, but vaguely in that direction. That is not to say we shall not visit these two dwarf galaxies, but this is not the primary goal. In fact it might well be once I have found what interests me, the Magellan clouds will stop calling themselves to my attention."

***

Dunbar had been explaining his research and the results for the past three hours, to a silently nodding Williams.

"Are you sure of your results?" asked a sceptic Williams.

"Oh yes! At first, I had my doubts, but the more I studied the Pterodactyls, the more I became convinced this was really happening."

"If so, we need to call in Harp, Colibri and Enron. This is too vital to let things continue without external validation, and they are the best to verify your results, my Brother."

"I am afraid they might laugh me off the ship!"

"Oh, come on! If there is one thing I have learned it is that these three always respect someone, even if that person happens to walk in their flower bed. Let us get going. I know the three of them have decided to go swim in the Ark tessaract segment reserved for the moderate temperatures."

"Okay. Be warned! If they begin laughing, I am sending you in the Antarctic tessaract segment!"

Dunbar and Williams made their way to the Bridge, surprising Cello.

"What brings you in these backwaters?"

"Cello, I was expecting to see our Biologists around or Harp. Do you know if they are up to something important?"

"No, Williams. I think Harp is ready to prank some arse holes at the College of Magic with some surprise tests, but I have no idea where Colibri and Enron are. They are probably visiting the Dolphins or something like that. I heard Enron mentioned something, but I did not catch it."

"Okay. Thebes, where is the Dolphin population located?"

"They are in the Oceanic Tessaract called Ark Layer 21, segment 3, sub-segment 8. The compression level is at 6.2 on all dimensions except time."

"That is too much information, Thebes. We are going there."

Using the portal nodes, the two Men made quick work of reaching the entrance, and walked into the transition locks. After looking around, they found footprints in the sand along the seashore and began following them. After 30 minutes, they spotted the three they were looking for in the distance and sped up to catch up with them. A few hollered calls caught the attention of the others, who came to a stop and waited for them.

"Hey guys! What brings you to the seashore? Want to surf with the Dolphins too?" asked Harp.

"No, we have some serious things to bring to your attention," Dunbar told them. "I thought you were off to prank the College of Magic?"

"I did. Some Mages will not forget proper defence any time soon!" replied the Prince of Magic with an evil grin.

"You have some serious things to bring to their attention," replied Williams. "Do not play yourself short."

"I hope it is not another revolt? I have had enough of two-legs revolting because they believe they are better than the four-legged members of the Atlantean society!" thundered Harp, magical core coming in the visible range, dark purple with fury.

"Oh no, nothing like that, Harp!" said Dunbar, shaking his hands trying to remove the sulphuric odour that seemed to have come from the doors of Hell opening.

"So, what is it?" asked Enron, converting to his Dragon form before moving away from Harp, finding the heat a bit uncomfortable even in that transformed shape, much to his surprise, as Colibri did the same. Surf came to lick their paws and vapourised explosively on contact with Harp’s feet and the molten silicon puddle he was slowly sinking in.

"Oh, nothing to heat up your volatile temper!" said Dunbar as he pointed nonchalantly at Harp’s feet.

"Dunbar, get on with it, before he blows a fuse!"

"Has he any?"

Everyone snickered except Harp, whose eyes turned dangerously red.

"Okay, I get it. You are no longer the fun Boy I could tease and get away with. Your sense of humour has dropped along with your focus of attention point!" said Dunbar pointing at Harp’s genitals.

"Grr!"

Blinking rapidly, Dunbar let out a quick "The Pterodactyls have learned to speak!"

Harp cleared his ears, looking at the Prince mouth agape.

"They what?"

"The Pterodactyls have learned to speak. And it is not the Parrots’ style of imitation. They really do speak. It is a strange language, with lots of whistling and clicks, but it is a fully functional language adapted to their needs."

"How did you come to this conclusion?"

"I noticed there was an evolution in the Pterodactyls. Oh, they still migrate every year, but they have expanded in their tessaract. What is more, there are now three distinct species, separated by colouring and mating dance steps. They share a common nesting area overall, but some have taken to flatter, drier areas, others prefer more hilly areas, and finally, some nest directly in the marshes. Their language has evolved accordingly, so we actually have three dialects of the same basic language. They also are growing smaller, which seems strange at first glance, but I figured the lack of predators has reduced the need for over-sizing."

"How many seasonal cycles are involved?" asked Colibri.

"Oh, very few, maybe 300 or so. The tessaract runs on its own time frame. Ark? How many seasonal cycles since we recovered the Pterodactyls?"

"Three hundred thirty-four and a half cycles are completed."

"Hey, do not look at me, Harp. I did not adjust the controls of that tessaract, you did!" said Colibri.

"Harp, we wanted to restore the population quickly when we moved them in. But we never did come back to readjust the tessaract's time flow, did we?" Enron questioned.

"Actually, come to think of it, no, we did not."

"Anyway, whatever the cause, this is the result. I have been able to talk to them somewhat, and these animals are remarkably intelligent."

"Dunbar, how about putting the cream on the cake?" Williams pushed.

"There is more?" asked an alarmed Colibri.

"Oh yes! We already knew they were derived from the Dragons, their ancestors having taken the path of the cold rather than the path of the warm for their reproduction cycle. What we did not know is that they are magical. They are less magical than a bonded pair of Dragon - Mage, but more than a Dragon is on its own. I did some tests, and they stand at M5 for the most part, but never think of using it to further a goal."

"Did I hear you right? They are M5? Do you have a range?" asked a very worried Harp.

"M5 for 90% of them; the rest are M6 to M8. I suspect they were already magical before we rescued them. It is a case of accelerated evolution, typical of living under a tessaract, and given this particular tessaract has been running at an accelerated clip, the results did not take long to manifest from our perspective."

"In short," Dunbar commented, "it is another case of us underestimating some species’ real capacity. We really do need to begin looking at things a little less as if we were the belly button of the world."

"The only thing stopping them from becoming serious magical users is the lack of the Verb. They have the Power, but lack the abstract conceptualisation levels required to express any but the most fundamental of their needs," added Williams.

"And that situation may not last," added Colibri. "What do we do?"

"We do what we set out to do with other species, such as the Dolphins. We elevate them, but this time, we do the next stage under controlled conditions. Damn it, I shall not be taken short by wild magical users popping within Thebes. Dunbar, Williams, you two will begin studying their language. I want a daily report of their progress. Enron, you drop off the roll call for Pilot, I am assigning Alexander in your place. You accompany Williams and Dunbar to the Pterodactyl tessaract and complete the Biological studies. Colibri, you do the Ethology studies. I want reports daily as well."

"I wonder why the Dolphins have not evolved as quickly?" Enron asked himself.

"This tessaract is on Thebes time. However, given what I have just learned, I may well consider changing the time frame for that tessaract sub-segment."

"Not right away, Harp, we are too stretched!" Colibri said. "I may be training several hundred Ethologists, Biologist, and other life Sciences specialists, but we have huge demands given how many ecosystems and advanced life-forms we have already rescued."

"Talking about schools, I wonder how Nestor is going with the construction of the new College of Magic for the Retarded?" commented Harp.

"Maybe a side-trip is in order?" Williams said. "But you should not see our ancestors as retards. After all they were kept in the cooler way beyond their time. When are we taking them out of the iceboxes?"

"As soon as you are done checking their history, Williams."

"That has been done for a week and a half!"

"Then we begin tomorrow. Dunbar, I plan to announce your discovery at the morning Council. I want you present. Williams, you are required as well. Get the numbers on who survived your scans, and whom ended up in the cooker rather than the defroster."

"If you were not Harp, I would worry we had missed one of the Orcs Warrior!"

"If you look at the cycle of life, Williams, you notice we are always eating the same matter. We eat each other, and it is only a question of intermediate processing that stops us from chewing family!"

"Eww!"

***

Up on the bridge, Ian was in a discussion with Samson, Harold, Thorsten and Typhoon.

"I have been studying the behaviour of Thebes as we enter transwarp. Samson, either the Universe is smaller than we think, or our scale is off when we pass that barrier with the slipstream or the jumps. It is not that I think the jumps themselves are off, it is the time-line that seems to be."

"You know that time folds when we jump, right?" Samson asked.

"Yes, but it is that fact that tipped me off. See, we systematically tried to jump behind the event horizon so we could then come in to our objective using warp drive or slipstream. However, I noticed that for slipstreams, we overshot considerably if we followed our estimated slide; as for warp, we came to our objective way too early. It has not been critical so far, but we must now consider that we shall be leaving the Galaxy, and an error of that magnitude might well leave us in an entirely unexpected one or right in the middle of nowhere."

"What are you proposing, Son?"

"Dad, I set to estimate the curve of warp and I came up with a new set of equations. Remember, the set we have came from our ancestors’ first gambles with the drive, and was recovered, do not ask me how, by the Ancients."

"Yes, so?"

"Let me show you the two equation sets."

Ian used a flat screen on the far wall of the Captain’s Ready Room to show a set of equations:

IF WARP > 9 THEN SPEED = (WARP^(10/3))+1/(10-WARP)

ELSE SPEED = (WARP^(10/3))

"The equation after the else clause is the standard warp formula developed by some unknown genius in time long ⁵⁵ ("Formula taken from the TV series Star Trek."). What I added is the then clause. Notice that warp speed is an asymptote to infinity as we near warp 10, and that we cannot, under transwarp drive, go beyond that speed. Beyond that point, it is quantum drive that comes into play, and we can no longer talk about warp speed. We can be anywhere at the same time, since time itself loses significance."

"Can you give an example of this?" asked Typhoon.

"Sure. At warp 9.9, the travel speed is 2,083.45431546991 times the speed of light; with the new formula, the speed is 2,093.45431546991 the speed of light. The difference increases exponentially. At warp 9.99999 the standard value is 2,154.4275085913 times C, and is 102,154.427512377 times C with the new formula."

"What happens if we do break the warp 10 barrier?" asked Thorsten. "Because, from what I understand of that formula, Ian, the differential between the standard formula and the new one would go diminishing once the warp 10 barrier is broken."

"I noticed. That tells me this formula is incomplete and that we need further study. For now, we can not do these studies for lack of proper means to explore the barrier. We may have an occasion when we jump universes. But these occasions will be rare. And that formula segment may well require adjustments and a complete reformulation that would remove the issue by rendering post-warp 10 speed impossible."

"Have you considered sign propagation?" asked Typhoon.

"Sign propagation?"

"See, the sign of that segment that calculates post-warp 10 speeds becomes negative beyond ten. If the sign propagated across the formula, it would effectively brake the speed, to the point that no gain could be made from going beyond warp 10."

"It could be so."

"Is your formula validated by experience?" asked Samson. "After all, we did not do many transwarp runs."

"I only have 12 or 15 points of reference. This is a limited sample, and to be honest, we do need to get more data."

"Thebes, do a best-fit curve from the limited sample," asked Samson.

"A moment please."

After a few minutes, the results came back. Below Ian’s formula appeared a new set:

IF WARP > 9 THEN SPEED = (WARP^(10/3))+SQRT(1/(10-WARP))

ELSE SPEED = (WARP^(10/3))

"Notice that it is now totally impossible to travel at warp 10 or above," stated the Thebes Artificial Intelligence. "Ian, next time, talk to me when you plan that kind of equation construction, please?"

Ian pouted, but had the good grace to accept the Artificial Intelligence’s gentle comment.

"What are the impacts on the results obtained with the new formula?" Samson asked.

"At 9.9, the result is 2,086.61659313008; at 9.99999, the result is 2,470.65527461412. The end result is the same, an asymptote to infinity at warp 10, but a much slower progression of the curve to that end."

"That explains why I got frustrated with the big warp speeds! The data never seemed to fit, but since I had only two points of reference I could not see where the error was!" exclaimed Ian, flustered.

"Such is the price of research, Son. You did well, and did it on your own. I just wish more of us had scientific curiosity. I am glad you have the interest."

"Harold, too many of us think we know everything. This is the mean reason so few seem to ask questions. Too many have no doubts about anything, and when they discover doubt, they discover fear. This is sad."

"Samson, my friend, I think you are on to something. Have you ever thought of teaching Philosophy?"

"Me, teach to snot-nosed brats? Throw me overboard first!"

"Vespers is almost upon us. How about a hunt for lunch?" asked Typhoon, just as his stomach grumbled.

"I wonder if Harp has materialised some Elks? I feel like eating venison tonight," Thorsten replied, as the group made their way toward the Hunting tessaract, meeting a group of Wolves and Coyotes along the way.

"You know he always replaces those we hunt as soon as we are done to keep the ecosystem stable. If he is not hunting, I shall do it," said Ian, just as his namesake, Harold-Ian made his way to the tessaract entry.

***

The breakfast was busy with discussions amongst the Royals the next morning. Somehow, Dunbar’s discovery had leaked into the population, much to his chagrin, and everyone wanted to know about the Pterodactyls’ phenomenal progress. Tired of answering individual questions turning around the same theme, Dunbar materialised a big table in the middle of the dining hall and stood on it, giving the first ‘press’ conference of the Throne since Thebes had left Earth for the first time. Harold had heard a quick overview of Dunbar’s results while taking a night cap of hot chocolate before retiring to his bed-chambers, so he knew nothing disastrous was pending.

"Rule number one: one question per person, and no more. We have other things to discuss, and there is a meeting of the Privy Council later. Since this is not a private family affair, it is public and will be visible on all monitors across Thebes. You can consult the day’s agenda from any terminal. Before answering questions, I would like to make a short statement concerning the Pterodactyls and what I have found out. That should quench the rumour mill and answer most if not all of your questions. Since this is a research in progress, we do not have all the answers. Please be quiet."

A few minutes later, quietness descended on the Imperial Mess Hall, and all occupant stopped what they were doing. Dunbar began speaking, his strong voice resonating across the humongous room.

"I informed the Emperor and other members of my family of my discovery last night. Two things concern the Pterodactyls. First, they can now speak. Second, they are magical, well within the average Atlantean level. I have been instructed by the Prince of Magic to deepen my study of the Pterodactyls and I shall now be assisted by Williams, Enron and Colibri. I would ask that those not directly involved with the Pterodactyls stay in the observation deck so as not to spook them. We need them to be acting naturally and to feel secure, so please, no mass invasion of their private space. Are there any questions?"

A few questions concerned power levels, the nature of the language, and security. Dunbar did his best to be as clear as possible. Finally, he recruited about a hundred volunteers to keep an eye on the Pterodactyls and record their behaviours by being in the tessaract itself.

"I must now get to the Privy Council to give my formal report to the Empire. Please follow today’s debate from your home. Those on duty, report to your stations!"

***

As the Privy Council came to an end, the last item on the agenda came to the attention of the attendees.

"Son," began Harold as he looked at Paschal, "How is the clean-up of the Colony ship progressing?"

"We completed it two days ago. It is now more sterile than the vacuum of space. The use of nano-robots to scour every inch of surface has worked quite well. We found huge colonies of bacteria, viruses, retro-viruses, and even prions lodged within micro-organisms such as algae, moss, mushrooms, and other high-order life-forms. The food supply was also contaminated and disposed of. I set aside the last week to assault any lingering infections in the Colonists’ organisms, eradicating quite a few potentially hazardous infections. They will need to get repopulated in bacterial fauna for the intestinal tract, otherwise they will have the runs and risk dehydration. Colibri supplied me with a collection of immunisation protocols that were carried out by the nano-robots directly at the cell level. They are now immune to our own microbial life forms."

"That is good. So, we are ready to begin taking them out of the cold boxes?"

"Yes," replied Colibri. "Timor, Rockhook, and Piano spent the last month cross-indexing everyone to find out where to start and how to proceed. The first out should be the Captain of the ship. After all, he is the one with the most knowledge on what happened to halt the colonising process. We decided not to follow their protocol for the colonisation since most of the analysis is centred on colonising a planet, which is no longer the case."

"Fine by me. What next?"

"You are expected to meet with the Captain, Harold. We want to make it clear he might be Atlantean, Captain of his ship, but that stops there. We want to go all out with the Imperial Protocol, with all the Royal family present in the Royal Courtroom for the formal reception of the Man."

"Why?"

"From the logs, he is one hell of a Bitch. Scare tactics are in order."

"Okay. When will he be released? And who will bring him to the Throne Room?"

"Harold-Ian has volunteered. Given his impressive size and that he definitely does not look Atlantean of old gentry, he will stymie the bastard more than a well-rounded polite guy."

"Why not Harp or Ian?"

"Do you want him dead or alive?"

"You have a point, Colibri."

"He will be out of stasis half an hour before sext. He is held just below consciousness now. We have a set of clothes from his cabin waiting for him, reconstructed from a picture of him taken just before the first Colonists moved to Earth. It should give him the impression that he lives in his time, for a few brief moments. The shock will come when he starts following Harold-Ian in Thebes."

"I can just imagine his face when he leaves his ship and finds himself in the cargo hold, looking down at the lower floor some 6,000 feet below!"

"Yes, that will be nice, especially since the Orichalque deck is totally transparent and gives the impression you are walking on air!"

"You know, Colibri, you are as bad as the others!" said Annabelle, laughing so hard she had snot flying out of her nose.

"I try. Everything will be recorded in three-dimension so you can look at it from any angle and any distance. Just try to wait until the show is over, because I do not want him to meet with a bunch of laughing Hyenas when he reaches the Throne Room. Decorum is the word. You can laugh your arses off after the show, in the privacy of the Imperial suite. Suit up, ladies and gentlemen. I have already selected the Centuries that will mark the way from the cryogenic chamber in the Colony ship to the Throne Room. All are required to be in native form. I want him to understand that diversity is the rule, not the exception."

***

Harold-Ian was at the side of the cryogenic chamber, waiting for the last light to turn off, marking the end of the reanimation cycle. He had spent the last two days reviewing the procedure with Colibri, now busy getting ready to receive the individual in the Throne Room along with the rest of the Imperial family. His own seat was on the dais, waiting for him just behind Timor and Iridia. He had spent the morning brushing his long hair that gave him the appearance of a walking fire. Around him stood the First Centurie of the First Legion of the Guards, shiny in their armour, and, for the occasion, under his command. Composed of a select set of the best of the best each species had to offer, it looked beautiful and frightening at the same time. War Horses, Fairies, Trolls, Canines, Equines of all sorts, Orcs, everyone was represented and shone with their orichalque armour polished to the point of making them blindingly brilliant. The beeping took him out of his musing and he pressed the button terminating the reanimation process and opened the double lid of the chamber. Looking at the EEG and ECG, he noticed the Atlantean Captain was awake but not yet moving. He gave him another five minutes to recover his motor control and his senses. Those primitive cryogenic chamber were not very friendly on motor co-ordination and some tests done with volunteers showed it took a few minutes for a person to fully recover both motor control and sensory acuity.

The opening of the eyes was signalled by a sudden increase in brain waves, telling Harold-Ian that the Captain was almost ready. Waiting a minute until the eyes focused on the light above properly, as signalled by another soft beep, he leaned over the side of the pod and looked at the Captain, whose eyes almost popped out of their socket at viewing the hairy face of Harold-Ian looking down at him. Had the Captain been able to, he would have soiled himself, but the micro-robots had removed anything anywhere along the digestive tract.

"Hello Captain Blight. My name is Harold-Ian. The drying cycle is now complete. Please sit up."

The deep, powerful, yet childish-sounding voice of the Prince took Blight by surprise. Too stunned to wonder why the beast talked in pure Atlantean of the Mother World, he pushed himself off the bottom of the chamber, and sat groggily up.

Waiting some more, Harold-Ian watched the Captain as he took notice of his environment, while examining himself for some apparent issues.

"Are you able to stay seated without falling off? If so, I shall activate the retraction of the sides."

Voice to hoarse to speak, the Captain nodded, and Harold-Ian triggered the folding of the sides.

"Turn toward me, sir. Let your legs dangle a bit while the blood flow re-establishes itself and your body adjusts to gravity."

Blight, too stunned to even think, did as ordered, and waited. It took no time at all for the needle pricks feeling to assert itself and he had to bite his lips not to holler in pain. He had expected it, but never that strong. It happened every time he had to take his station after a month of cryogenic sleep. Harold-Ian, for his part, said nothing, as he knew what the Captain was facing. He had undergone a three-day stay in one of these contraptions and had felt the pinpricks of reanimation, but for only a short time. Keeping an eye on the Captain’s face, the Prince noticed it gradually relax as the pain went away.

"I shall now bring the bed lower so you can use it to stand up. Legionnaire Trump, since you are about his size, help him walk around until he has recovered motor co-ordination."

"Yes, Sir."

Trump walked in view of the Captain, his armoured suit covered with a white fluffy cotton sheet. The Legionnaire looked at the Captain and grabbed his hand with his right hand while sliding his left arm around his back.

"Let us walk around the room for a bit, Captain. Lean on me until you feel steady."

The black as onyx colour of Trump took the Captain by surprise. He had never met any Atlantean of that colour. How could that be? That question would have to wait for a later time as he walked slowly under the steady guidance of the Legionnaire. Something much more serious was nagging at his consciousness, but he just could not deal with it. After ten minutes, Blight was finally able to move around by himself. The first voice that had talked to him addressed him anew.

"Captain Blight, I suggest you put on your uniform. It has been rebuilt, pressed according to form, and starched. All your decorations and stashes of function are either pinned on the vest or ready to be put on. Please hurry, we are running late."

That was the first time the Captain realised he was unclothed, and he turned crimson-red, but then he realised he had been in a chamber, and that this meant he had to be nude for it do its work. He sat down on the spongy bottom of the cryogenic chamber and began dressing quietly. Fingers were still numb, so the Legionnaire helped him with his numerous buttons and laces, for which the Captain was grateful. Once everything was to his satisfaction, including a combing of his hair to his favoured style, Harold-Ian stood in front of him and extended his gigantic hand.

"Come, Sir. We are running really late."

The Captain stood up, pulled erect by the mighty force of the Prince. For the first time, Blight noticed the real size of Harold-Ian and bleached. He found himself staring at a flaccid penis measuring 24 inches long located at eye level. He backed away and craned his neck to look at the towering mountain of furry muscles peering down at him.

"Captain Blight," said Harold-Ian gently, "it would lack dignity to faint on me now. I suggest you breath slowly and deeply to get a better control of your nerves. I can smell your fear and it is intoxicating. Luckily we have all eaten profusely this morning."

The meaning of the comment was not lost on the Captain and further drove his fear a couple of notches up. Harold-Ian’s smirk, revealing canines of a first-class predator, further scared the Captain.

«Bring him along before he dies of a heart attack!» said Harp from the Throne Room. «You are doing a mighty good job of breaking the bastard, but leave him some slack, the fun is only beginning!»

"Centurion, lead the way. We have dallied enough here. I am sure those waiting on us are growing impatient."

Taking the Captain by his right hand, Harold-Ian walked out of the room, following the Guards along the way. The hallways were too narrow for a hedge of Guards so Blight only saw the backs of the Legionnaires preceding him. He could see they varied considerably in size and morphology, and quite a few were four-legged. He thought they were trained animals, and dismissed them as adjuncts to the Guards. He gradually realised he was led to the cargo hold of his ship, and this was confirmed when he exited the hall into the vast and empty area. On the far edge, he saw that the door was wide open, and that not only had it been repaired, but entirely replaced. For the first time, as he surveyed the huge room from the top of the ramp, he also saw an unending hedge of Guards at full attention, some tiny but some enormous. Too shocked to respond, he followed Harold-Ian’s guiding hand down the ramp, his eyes darting left and right to take in the unfolding scene.

"Watch your steps, Sir. We are passing the guiding rails of the sliding door and I would not like you to fall down."

As if on command, the Captain did just that, catching his left foot in the rail and falling face first on the transparent floor of the middle deck of Thebes’ shuttle hold. Below him, he could see his ship disappearing in a gracious curve, engines shining, and, way, way below the last nacelle, the curve of a rounded floor with tiny Insects walking on the walls and floor below, He began trembling violently, unable to control his muscles anymore.

"Is this not a magnificent sight?" asked Harold-Ian, ignoring the Captain’s plight deliberately. "And look above! They have finished reassembling the Marsupial Snake segments. Each segment has been fully renovated and updated to the latest technology. It was rebuilt from one end to the other."

Blight was too shocked to even move, and it took Harold-Ian’s gentle ministrations to bring him to standing position. The Prince pointed at the Snake, and the Captain fell on his arse, almost splitting his skull on the door rails.

"Come on, Captain! We can not stay here all day, even if the sight is breathtaking. Let us move."

The Captain discovered that day he suffered from vertigo, and Harold-Ian had to hold him the whole way across the vast chiasm. Blight was shaking so violently the Prince told him to get a grip unless he wanted his vibrations to enter in harmonics with the bridge and break it. That was not the thing to say, and the Captain’s shaking redoubled.

As the group reached the far end of the long hedge, what Blight had taken for rather big mounds of stuff stood up in their full glory. On his left was a Gold Dragon and on his right stood a Green and a Red Dragon. That was too much and he fainted. However, Harold-Ian was not feeling merciful and he slammed a bottle of foul-smelling salts under his nose immediately, pulling him on his feet without much mercy.

"Get ahold of yourself, Captain! We have no time to lose for the faint of heart. The Empire is at war, and you have not been retired off active duty yet!"

Captain Blight coughed his head off, tears streaming abundantly from the stinging vapours seemingly targeting only his eyes. Harold-Ian pulled him back on his feet and pushed him forward.

"No more shenanigans! Move your arse forward before I kick it across the hall!" growled the Prince, vanishing the salts bottle right in front of the Captain, stunning him further. The Captain stumbled forward, but the powerful grip on his left shoulder left him little option as to where he was headed, and it was not the floor.

The escort progressed further and entered Thebes proper. Taken to a portal node, the Captain did not understand why he was led in to immediately be led out.

"Sorry, I should have explained. We were ported from one node to another, and they all look the same. It saved us a few months of walking."

"Months? What is a month?"

"A month is a block of 30 days, a day is one rotation of the reference planet on its axis. Do not tell me you lost that basic bit of information on your ship?"

"We measured time in hibernation cycles..."

The Prince smirked. "Well, this space-ship uses a reference planet, Earth, now long gone, to measure time. The ship clock is synchronised to GMT, or Greenwich Mean Time, a reference meridian, and all the ship is at the same time except for subsidiary tessaracts that are gradually adjusting life-forms to the standard clock. We have entire ecosystems running on 25 hours per day, others running on 45 hours per day, and what not. The planetary Ecologist will explain what is what in time, if he deems it is your business to know."

Colibri almost burst an artery from laughing at the exchange he was watching telepathically. Blight’s face was pathetic by now, and he was sweating bullets.

«Please refrain from those comments. I want to meet him before I die of a ruptured aneurism!»

The escort emerged at the core of Thebes, and the Sun of Atlantis Three shone brightly in the centre of the vast hall that was the centre of the space-ship.

"Get in that gondola. We have to reach the other side of the ship, to enter the Kantar district."

"Where is that Kantar district?" asked a bewildered Captain.

"Look up. You see the top of the Imperial Palace, or Kantar."

"But we shall fall!"

"We are always falling. That is gravity for you. Sit. They are ready to push the gondola off the dock. Unless you want to swim with the predators and act as Fish bait, you better stay in the boat."

Once the gondola was pushed off, the Gondolier made for a quick heading toward a bigger canal. The boat shivered a couple of times under the head butting of a few Dolphins, to the terrorised gasps of the Captain and a stone-faced Prince.

"Life can be so short in these waters," he commented.

Just after that comment, the Gondolier’s paddle broke, and the boat drifted on its momentum, while the man retrieved another paddle from under the bench.

"Sorry, we need to slow down, Sir. The paddle movements excite the predators and they attack it. That was Mamma Jane, she is ill-tempered and hates us. She sank one gondola last week and ate everyone. We are lucky it is only a temper tantrum today. She was served a healthy breakfast with a dozen criminals."

The Gondolier’s comment made the Captain shake so much it was comical, and those in the Royal Throne Room that had heard the comment by telepathy exploded in hysterical laughter. The poor Dolphins were being maligned in the eyes of the Captain, but the result was worth every bad word said about the friendly Dolphins.

"Stop shaking! Do you want the planks to split open? And keep your hands out of the water! The last time an idiot did that, it served as an appetiser!" said Harold-Ian.

The gondola made its way across a vast expense of open water, and found itself imbedded a school of Dolphins swimming alongside. The Captain’s teeth were clapping so hard the Prince thought he might break a few, while his knees played the drum on the side of the boat.

"You do like to play with fire, Captain. You are drumming up a feeding frenzy and calling in the reinforcements!"

The Gondolier exploded in laughter while continuing to paddle the boat across the lake.

"How can you laugh in these circumstances?" asked a shocked Captain.

"Death is best met laughing," replied the Gondolier.

"Do you have no fear?"

"Fear not what you can not escape, fear what you can run away from. We all die, Sir, so there is no reason to fear it."

The gondola made its way slowly and entered another canal, before docking near the main entrance of Kantar.

"Come, stand up, we are almost there."

Winking at the Gondolier, Harold-Ian pulled the Captain on his feet and made him stand on the dock, shaking violently on his legs.

"Too bad the next canal is too narrow for my boat, Sir. I could have brought you closer to your destination. Bah! The bridge over its entrance would have prevented my prow from passing anyway. Just, Sir, when you see a Dolphin speed up toward the bridge, duck! They have been known to chew up an inattentive pedestrian!"

The Captain walked with Harold-Ian as if he was going to the gallows, shaking at every step and dragging his feet all the way.

"Walk, or you will end up barefoot by the time we reach the bridge!" said the Prince, pushing the Captain forward none too tenderly.

They finally reached the short bridge that lay low over the water, and progressed on it. Just as they reached the middle, the Centurion yelled:

"Duck!"

Everyone flattened on his belly except the Captain, frozen in abject fear. All he could see was his doom swimming speedily toward him and he could not move. His brain disconnected from his motor neurones and he stood there, wide-eyed, helpless. The Dolphin jumped over the bridge, opening his mouth in a wide and very toothy grin, as if he was readying to swallow the Captain whole. It passed directly over the Captain, its belly rubbing the hair off and showering Blight in salty water, to finally flip its tail and send the Captain sprawling on his belly right on the edge of the bridge. After a mighty splash that watered the entire escort, the Dolphin made its way out to the lake.

"That was close!" said Harold-Ian, as he stood up, pulled the Captain from his precarious position and looked around. The escort stood up as well.

"Move! That was too close for comfort!" ordered the Centurion. "Captain, if you are not across that bridge in two seconds, I shall personally hang you over the railing by the feet to feed the Dolphins!"

Harold-Ian winked at the Centurion from his towering position. Another nail in the bastard’s ego coffin driven home.

The walk resumed at a much quicker pace. The Captain almost fell on his knees to pray when they reached the other side, but Harold-Ian held him standing and walking by brute force.

"What do you think you want to do? Half of the escort is still on the bridge, you fool! If I lose a single member of the escort due to your foot-dragging, I shall personally hold one arm while the Centurion holds the other and we dangle you over a bridge for the predators to snack on!"

They finally reached the drawbridge that allowed passage over the canyon separating Kantar from the rest of the area. As the Captain eyed the wide chiasm, and saw its depth, he could not but shake in shock. That was a space-ship? What size was it to allow that type of construction?

"We are now entering the imperial hallway leading to the Throne Room, Captain. As you noticed, we are accompanied by a wide range of species, and each species is also represented by the members of the honour hedge. Just to set the record straight, this is standard protocol for the reception of a Captain. You are no exception. Imperial formalism is inscribed into the law of the land and has been so for the past 17,000 years, probably more."

Blight, too stunned to talk, just nodded.

"When we reach the doors to the room, I shall leave you so I can take my station in the Imperial Throne Room. You shall wait patiently until the doors open. Then, walk on the red carpet at a measured pace, and stand three steps from the first step leading to the Imperial Throne. The Emperor will be sitting, as well as all members of the Imperial family. Wait until he talks to you, and answer his questions in a clear voice."

"I... Cannot talk, too parched..."

"Oh, that. Water will be supplied. You need not talk loudly. The room is designed so the person standing in front of the Throne can be heard clearly by everyone in the hall."

Captain Blight nodded.

"Bend at the waist to bow, count to five slowly, and straighten up. Look at the Emperor in the eyes. When he says sit, sit. Do not even bother to look back for a chair, it will be there. Just drop your arse there. Looking for the chair is a show of distrust."

Another nod came from the Captain, just as the double doors came into view around the bend. The escort stood at attention, facing the closed doors that were shining in the light provided by the walls, ceiling, and floor of the anteroom.

"Centurion, I have to go take my station. Take charge of the Captain."

"At your command!"

The escort slammed their right foot or paw on the floor, making Blight jump in shock from the sudden, unexpected noise. Before he could ask any question, the Captain saw the giant furry... animal? Walk away and disappear in a side-door.

Time seemed to come to a standstill as Captain Blight waited on the events to unfold. He had, for the first time, the opportunity to study his escort in detail, and the more he did so, the more he became unglued. Shaking his head to try and wipe the ideas that were trying to overwhelm him, he began to look at the details of the door in front of him, as the Centurion seemed to be a statue standing at his side. The door was huge, and showed a vast scene presenting all sorts of life, some of which he never thought possible.

The Centurion, even if totally immobile, watched the Captain’s actions very closely. He noticed the growing uneasiness as the Captain studied the members of his command; the immense effort it took the Captain not to split at the seams; and the resolution of the inner conflict brought by the study of the door to the Imperial Hall.

Finally, drums began to beat as the doors opened slowly, and the Captain tensed markedly. Once the doors were wide open, a solemn march began to play.

"Forward... March!" ordered the Centurion, as his Centurie walked into the Throne Room in step with the music. The Captain could not help but follow the impulsion given by the Centurion’s imperative command and he copied his steps to match those of his escort.

Reaching the end of the long hall, the Centurion had his Centurie stop six paces from the first step to the Throne. Mindful of the instructions given by Harold-Ian, the Captain walked three steps further and stopped. Blight conformed to the protocol set out by the Prince and bent at the waist for the prescribed five seconds before standing up at full attention. For the first time, he could study the figure sitting in front of him. It was that of a young Man, barely out of Childhood, whose eyes seemed to read him as an open book. Blight was becoming ever more uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the Man in front of him as the silence persisted.

"Sit!" whispered Harold, but it sounded like thunder in the vast silent room. Blight fell on his arse in a comfortable chair that had not been there earlier.

The silent treatment resumed, and the Captain finally began to see what was to be seen as the Emperor relaxed his gaze. The first thing he noticed was the gold clip that held Harold’s Ermine cape. It looked familiar, but he could not be sure, even if the distance between him and the formidable young Man was not that great. Unable to solve the puzzle, he let his eyes wander and he saw the Hammer and the Shield, that seemed to glow from an inner light, leaning casually on the foot of the Throne. As he left his eyes roam further afield, he saw another Throne with a Lady in Military uniform, then a Trident beside a young Man with long ears, and a diminutive one with an Axe of Gold and a Hammer that seemed to be made of another fancy metal. As he explored the persons in the Room, he kept discovering stranger things. Animals outnumbered bipeds two, maybe three to one, and occupied as prominent positions as the others, sitting or laying down on Thrones adapted to their morphology. Behind all, sitting casually and overshadowing everyone in front, was the most gigantic animal of all, with multi-facetted eyes and wings that seemed to envelop the assembled Thrones protectively. As the Captain continued his visual inspection of the area he could see without turning his head, he saw a series of flags, pennants, and banners that reflected the diversity below. What caught his attention was the presence of the flag of Atlantis, his Home World! Finally, the incongruity that had been nagging him ever since he had met the huge furry animal clicked into focus: it had been speaking Atlantean, Imperial Atlantean to boot, and without even the slightest accent! He knew that the language had drifted as the Colony ship travelled the stars to settle into that new planet, but recordings were still available of the original language and he, as many high officers, were proud to learn the dead language of the Mother World. But was it really dead? Not according to what he had been hearing while he was brought to this room. Taking a deep breath, he noticed that the flag of the Home World was laid back relative to another, unknown flag, that of a rising or setting Sun on a vast expense of water. In fact, its rank was in the third row, clearly indicating that not only was his Home World a Vassal to the group represented by the Sun pennant, but it was Vassal to quite a few more, including, all Divinities forbid, to those with the Tree and the these toothy quadrupeds and the scaly ones too! How? He noticed other pennants in the same situation as his beloved Home World, telling him this was not a fortuitous event: a strange star chart for one; a flag in a triangular shape with a white dot at each corner; an animal form for the next, and so on. Further, deeper, almost out of sight, were a series of animal representations, other pennants, including, oddly, the one identified as the Dolphin, but there were many others, including a flying animal, some swimming animals and the like. He knew that this meant they were Vassals of a lesser importance to the Empire he could now just begin to fathom the depth.

Blight brought back his eyes to those sitting or otherwise resting in front of him. He could see family lines in many of those present, and he realised slowly he had in front of him the Imperial Family. Some positions told him that one in particular warranted intense protection from the others, notwithstanding the Imperial Guards all around the room and the fact that the young Man who had told him to sit was definitely the Emperor of that assembly. He carried similarities that revealed parentage between the Lady and the Emperor, telling Blight he was their Son, their eldest, if he could judge age from distance, such was his ungainly position so low on the floor. Another one seemed to be sitting beside his Brother, as immobile as the rest. To the middle left was another furry animal sitting on a Throne, probably the Father of the one... Yes, definitely, they had the same fur colour, but that one in front seemed to be more brutish-looking, and there was another one further behind, of a smaller stature but that was probably the grand-father. Where was the mother? Not the Bitch sitting beside the Grandfather? No, the relationship as portrayed by physical characteristics was not right. Then he noticed the diminutive Throne located to the right side of the beast he had identified as the Father of the escort. Where was he, for that matter? There he was! Sitting to the left of the Father figure, calmly watching him with a wide grin that sent shivers down his spine! Returning to the tiny figure to the right of the giant beast, he detailed it attentively. Its delicate figure but sharp eyes denoted a Lady used to command. Then it flashed to him. Where had he seen these eyes before? Yes! The escort! This delicate thing was his Mother! The escort was a hybrid between her and that monster! How could she have survived giving birth, much less carry the baby to term? Not counting having sex with the Father if the Son’s equipment was any indication of the potential size it reached during sexual excitation! Blight would have puked had he anything in his stomach to do so.

"Have you satisfied your visual curiosity?" asked the Emperor figure, once again catching his eyes in an unbreakable gaze. «Thank you, Zen, for teaching me that trick! He is as trapped as a mouse!»

«It was my pleasure, my Lord.»

"Y...Yes!" stuttered Blight, unable to even blink.

"Then let us begin formal introductions. Introduce yourself."

Blight stood up on shaky legs and spoke, more whispered his title:

"Captain Urban Blight, 382nd Commander of the Imperial Colony ship Destiny, on leave from Atlantis, now destroyed by an Act of War perpetrated by a life form we only know as the Cubes, that culminated in the destruction of our primary star and its conversion to a supernova."

"Thank you. The Empire is aware of the fate that befell your home world. Sit."

Once Blight was again seated, Harold signalled the Herald. "Imperial Herald, introduce us. And please, do not yell, I need my ears. This is not the Ball Room."

The Herald did his duty as each Prince or Princess stood. What shocked the Captain was the introduction of the representative of Atlantis as a Military Governor, not even a Baron or anything with a title worthy of mention. There were other Military Governors, but all he could hear was that Atlantis was no longer a significant power in the game. He had hoped the Colony he had founded would have grown to the point of recovering the Imperial glory of their forebears, but it did not seem to have happened.

As the introductions continued, the Captain noticed the appearance of titles, such as viscount, count, earl, baron, duke, and archduke, and others he missed completely. Then came the Princes, heir to different Thrones. He noticed his escort was heir to two Thrones and a Prince. Then came the different holders of the Thrones themselves, a plethora of Kings, including a King Cobra, that held the Snake Throne! The big beast that overshadowed everyone was introduced as King Typhoon of the Dragon Throne, and behind him his Mother of the Nest. Even stranger was the presence of the Nest Matriarch of the Seraphrim, which held no Throne but seemed to occupy a similar status as a King for their species; and Princess Iridia, who also had a similar arrangement. The Herald confirmed that the big beast was her Consort and that his escort was their Son.

The Herald stopped talking, giving a chance to Captain Blight’s mind to catch up and process the information before delivering the last blow. As the Captain’s eyes settled on the Emperor, the Herald quietly whispered the information.

"And last, may I introduce Harold, Thor, King of the Forge, reborn Pharaoh Horus, last Pharaoh of Atlantis Two, King of Kings, Emperor of Atlantis reborn from its ashes for a third time, Liege Lord of all those present... including yourself, Captain Blight."

Harold stood, and his crown came to light clearly for the first time to be contemplated by the awed Captain. That brought back his first observation about the clip. Now he knew where he had seen it! It had been in the Imperial Treasury carried by the Colony Ship and part of the last cargo dropped on the surface before disaster struck!

But then, other items in the long list of introduction came back to Blight. There was a Governor of Atlantis? That did not make sense. How could there be a Governor and an Emperor at the same time? The questioning looks of the Captain was not lost on Harold as he sat back down on his Throne.

"Harp, Prince of Magic, we have need of your services as historian. Please explain the events pertaining to Atlantis One, the Home World, as it is called by Captain Blight."

Harp stood up, and, in an even tone, exposed the events that led to the rescue of the population of Atlantis One, the disposal of the last Emperor of said planet, and the recording of the departure of the Colony ship by recorders sent back in time. He also exposed the destruction of the Cyborgs, or Cubes as he called them, during the last battle of Atlantis not so long ago, and the visit paid to the site of the battle to discover a fleet of ships travelling through the ruptured continuum to recover matter at the edge of the torn fabric of space.

"We have covered the essentials for now, Captain Blight," began the Emperor, "Please list your questions for another day. It is past sext, and food awaits us in the Imperial mess hall. Follow the Centurion to the hall, and join our Legions and the Court to share our meal. Imperial Court of Justice will be held promptly tomorrow morning at tierce. Captain Blight, you are assigned as witness. Be present at the opening. This session of the Court now stands adjourned."

The Captain was led out of the Court Room by the Centurion, who gave him a glass of cold water that appeared out of thin air in his hand.

"You did not speak much, but I can sense your throat is on fire. Drink this. It has water and mint in it, and it will ease the burning sensation."

"Thank you."

The Captain drank slowly, relishing the velvety sensation of water re-awakening his mouth and travelling down to his stomach. After sipping the glass for five minutes, he returned it to the Centurion who disposed of it and its contents dismissively. Blight was in so much shock already this slight show of Magic did not even register. The Centurion led the Captain to a restroom to refresh himself.

"We have fifteen minutes. Please hurry, the Emperor will be waiting at the Mess hall for you before lunch is served. We are an hour late and he must be getting hungry, not to mention the Felines and Canines. They are well-mannered but it is not an excuse to make them wait needlessly."

The Captain understood the necessity for punctuality and quickly brushed his hair, washed his face with icy water, and reset his suit in its proper arrangement. After a last glance at the mirror, he walked out of the restroom and followed the Centurion to another one of these nodes, as the escort (Prince Harold-Ian was it?) had called them. He watched with more attention but could not see anything done to the controls and concluded they had been preset to the destination. Walking out he was led into the mess hall, which seemed to be mostly empty except for a table at the far end.

"The Emperor and his immediate family is waiting on us. The Near Guards are there as well. This place is usually full to the brim at the change of the Guards, but this will only happen at a shift change. You will see it tomorrow morning at prime. Come. I am hungry too!"

The Centurion led the Captain to the Imperial table, and Harold indicated a seat at the third table down, where Captain Blight was led and told to sit. The Centurion then turned around and made his way to his Centurie and sat down.

"Finally! Food!" he whispered, loud enough to be heard from everyone at the Imperial table and eliciting snickers from his Men.

"Harp, to you the honour of creation," said Harold.

Food materialised on all the occupied tables and the congregation began eating. Blight observed and figured if they were eating with such gusto, it had to be good, so he dug in.