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“So there they go,” Ensign Kathline Proskel said, watching from the vantage point of the portside rec hall’s viewports as a shuttle descended to the planet. “Estelle and her beau get to hobnob with top Gaian officials at Hadala. We should be down there, and doing our part cementing good relations between our two peoples.”

Lieutenants Aika Longstreet and Wanda Knudson grinned at the tone of annoyance in Proskel’s voice. “Sounds like someone didn’t get enough ‘cementing’ time with the local men,” teased the ebony Knudson. “What about that barber’s apprentice?”

“Apprentice indeed.” Longstreet mused. “He be should be a butcher after what he’s done to those kids getting their first haircuts.”

Knudson hummed and nodded. “Don’t worry, Katy. Sweeny Todd won’t be getting any competition from him.”

“Well, I say I got the best of the three of us,” Proskel retorted. “Little Miss Intelligence,” motioning with her head towards Knudson, “has her hooks on an accountant and Miss CIC swoons when her street musician boy-toy plays his flute.”

“He’s no boy-toy,” Longstreet retorted. “Malan happens to be part of the Silvertown Theatrical Music Company. He’s very talented, not the least of which being his lips.”

“And I love the way Gen handles his numbers,” purred Knudson. “He calculated the cost and how many square centimeters my bras will have to be when I get my bust to Angelican size.”

Proskel wrinkled he nose. “Angelican sized? You’re only allowed to get that big on active duty when 90% of your duty assignment is planet-side. Don’t tell me you got the belly hunger already?”

“What can I say? Gen has my heart. I’ve already put in my request to become part of the naval detachment assigned to the embassy. I think Ichiba will approve, and with the admiral’s recommendation it’s a sure bet.”

“Good luck with that,” Longstreet said in a snark. “You have 10,000 people ahead of you.”

*******

Commodore Tess Wilwerding, commanding a detachment of the task force from the battleship Vosberg, was watching a broadcast in her day cabin next to the bridge. It was a live shot from Hadala, transmitted to the Stroud and in turn sent over a hyperwave frequency to all Commonwealth ships in the system. Operating the camera was Lt. Estelle Carson, and at this particular moment it was focused on a wedding in progress. Like everyone else watching Tess was in awe as the Matriarch performed the wedding ritual. It has be that crystal she’s wearing, she thought. From Angelican to pillow-woman size in moments, and four times in one day. What I wouldn’t do to have that crystal for one night with Reginald!

The idle wish was banished by a buzzer. Tess sent a ‘ware command to open a comm channel on her desk monitor. It was Hendel, the Vosberg’s captain. “Commodore, we have an inbound ship in hyper. There are none due to arrive today, and its vector isn’t from any Commonwealth system.”

“ETA and approximate point of entry?” Tess asked crisply.

“20 minutes to emergence, plus or minus 2 minutes. The ship will enter normal space approximately 100,000 kilometers sunward from the hypercomm platform in the outer system.”

“That’s too close to be an accident, Captain. Put the task group at general quarters and prepare a hyper jump to a position 200,000 kilometers from the intruder’s estimated entry point. The jump will commence in five minutes. I will be in the CIC before then.”

“Aye aye, Commodore.”

Tess left the cabin and headed down the corridor leading to the combat information center, her mind considering the possibilities. If it was an unscheduled visit by a freighter, be it official or a merchant trying to get his foot in the door, then his head will be handed to him. A pirate raid by one ship was both useless and suicidal, unless it was meant to destroy the hypercomm platform and thus deprive Tess and by extension Admiral Carson of both long-range hyper sensors and communications. With each step she was convinced it was the latter, for all inbound ships were to exit hyperspace at a particular point in the system. Besides, the location of the hypercomm platform was not general knowledge. Somehow that knowledge leaked out, and that smelled of pirate bribery.

The lighting in the corridor was now punctuated by the steady beat of glowing red panels and a chime signifying general quarters. Tess picked up her pace, knowing she was going to get contacted by Admiral Carson at any moment.

********

The late afternoon sun made the colored stonework on the five pyramids of Hadala flair with new life. With her shoulder-mounted micro camera Estelle took in the sights and the huge gathering of Gaian civilians and government officials. From her perch on top of the southern pyramid she and her companions also had a great view of the airfield and its collection of Skyliners, Observers, semi-rigid and rigid airships. The only Commonwealth representatives present was Estelle and Grazia, an agreement meant to placate the more hidebound politicians but one that made Premier Funa disappointed.

“This occasion would’ve been more complete had your uncle been here,” said Funa as he looked at the expanse of Hadala’s recovered and restored ancient buildings. “He is a man of great accomplishment and history.”

“Believe me, he would be here if his presence didn’t incite the Luddites into doing something even more stupid,” said Estelle, having used a ‘ware command to mute the audio of the conversation. “As for me and Grazia they know we can fight, and the Hadala people support us totally.”

Hearing her name had Grazia ask a question. “Are those Luddites still afraid that the Commonwealth will seize this planet and have Admiral Carson as its governor?”

“Sadly that’s the case, Corporal Grazia. The Midsummer Festival is often used to announce major news, both from the government and from the Matriarch. If the Admiral was here it would’ve been taken as proof that your Commonwealth had something devious in mind.”

“Perish the thought, Premier,” said Jeln, placing his hand on Estelle’s left shoulder. “What the blessed Rebecca and Pamela started we will finish, uniting us with the rest of humanity. A union that can only benefit us all.”

Funa looked down the pyramid and saw one of his aides gesturing to him. “Wise words, Mr. Kreyler. But right now we have to get going. The Matriarch is about to give her speech.”

Estelle enabled the audio to the micro camera again as she and Jeln walked down the pyramid steps, her arm around his. “Do you think she will give her official endorsement of the ‘spacemen’, Jeln? That would pretty much make the critics put up or shut up.”

“I’ve never heard that phrase before, Estelle. It seems to imply that those opposing the spacemen will resort to resistance and violence or just quietly simmer until they’re no longer relevant.”

“You got it right, Jeln. The next several weeks should tell.”

*******

Omaha was glad that she finally made it back to Hadala, her O-3 carrying three Johnny-come-lately mayors that for some reason or another were unable to book an earlier flight on a commercial aircraft. For six hours she listened to their chatter, ranging from taxes, municipal bond campaigns, utility upgrades and police and firefighter budgets. She was anxious to get back in time to listen to the Matriarch’s speech in person, but was even more anxious to be with her husband Shan. For tomorrow the couple will be going on their honeymoon. The forested sides of the Gold Spur mountains offered plenty of game to hunt and rustic lodges to spend long nights together in front of warm fireplaces.

On approach to the Hadala airfield Omaha saw that it was nearly packed. Much of the space was taken up by airships, secured in portable roofless hangers. Upon landing Omaha had to taxi the O-3 all the way to the end of the strip, the only advantage being that it was near the radio station. She had to sign in and inform Silvertown Airport personally that she and her passengers arrived safely. At a brisk pace she walked to the station as the three mayors piled into an awaiting car and moved at a great clip down the access road to the temple complex.

Inside the station Omaha didn’t see the usual receptionist or security guard. The people in their place were unknown to Omaha, and she sensed a tension that was unexpected for such a festive day. After signing in she went down the hall to the broadcast room. Around the corner she was confronted by two men dressed in camouflage jumpsuits and armed with short-barreled shotguns. Their faces were dabbed with green and black paint with an odor that reeked of the outdoors. One of the men put his hand over Omaha’s mouth while the other one jabbed a shotgun into her belly. “You best stay quiet, woman,” said the one with the leveled weapon. “If you yell or try to escape you’ll arrive in the arms of the All Mother far too soon. Understand?”

As much as she wanted the bite the fingers over her mouth Omaha could only nod in agreement. With arms painfully held behind her back the Forestry Service woman was lead down to the station’s basement. Two more camouflaged men were at the door, and when they opened it they gestured with their shotguns for Omaha to go down the steps. At the bottom she saw what had to be the station’s staff, along with one relieved-looking Shan. The newlywed couple hugged with understandable intensity.

“What’s going on?” Omaha said after releasing Shan from her embrace.

The light-haired mechanic looked up the stairs with an intense grimace. “I was waiting in the lobby when a whole bunch of those nature-smelling cretins came in and shoved guns in our faces. Along with that gross violation of gun etiquette they handled everyone roughly and tossed us all down here. The only thing we heard them say was something about the Matriarch’s broadcast at 5 p.m.”

“Gaia’s goodness! Shan, they could only mean to hold the Matriarch and the Premier hostage. We got to get out of here.”

“Not with those goons up there,” Shan said while pointing up the stairs. “Plus the ground level windows are too small to squeeze through, even for you.”

“Then we’ll dig our way out,” Omaha countered. “We’ll chip away at the mortar between the blocks under one of the windows. Once we loosen them we’ll pull them out, remove the bottom window sill, and dig out the dirt until we make enough room to make our escape.”

“That’s a Gaia-blessed idea, Omaha.” Shan pulled out a short flat-head screwdriver from his work suit pocket. “Today I’ll be a miner like my old man.”

At the base of the southern pyramid the crowd took to their seats. For hundreds of others they stood in a tightly packed group between the last row of chairs and the raised bandstand for the movie cameras, photographers, reporters and commentators. In his front row seat Pablo Enriquez watched as Matriarch Wulna ascended the steps to get onto the wooden platform erected on the side of the pyramid. He was ecstatic, for in a matter of moments Wulna will call for him to be on stage as makes their marriage public. Wulna wore an ankle-length skirt a rich shade of green and a shawl of silver draped across her immaculate Angelican-sized breasts. He had come to know those firm yet soft mammaries, only yearning for the evening to come all the more quicker so as to place his head and shoulders between them while Wulna read ancient poetry by candlelight.

“Ah, she must be tired,” said Premier Funa, sitting to Pablo’s left. “Four times her bosom swelled and receded this day, the most she has ever done at one time. I imagine it will be a short speech, just like the one I’ll be giving after she’s done.”

“Assuming that you will get to say that speech,” Pablo said whimsically. He saw the stern look on Funa’s face, immediately noting that it wasn’t directed at him. Turning in his seat, Pablo saw the recipient of that look. It was an old man, perhaps having a decade over Funa and showing a face that had decades more of working outside in the elements. He could’ve taken the air of a wizen, beloved grandfather but in Pablo’s eye the man looked like a disgruntled, dried-out grape.

“Gaia’s greetings, Mister Premier,” said the old man sarcastically. “As you didn’t campaign in my fair city of Cedar Bluff I had to use this opportunity to see you in person.”

“Hysyth Stonewood, I would have gladly visited your fair city had I been welcomed,” Funa replied with an equally acerbic tone. “The way my supporters were run out of town and my campaign office burned to the ground told me that my presence would’ve inspired misguided souls to visit violence upon my person.”

“That was the younger generation’s doing, and it wasn’t as sanguine as you made it sound,” Hysyth retorted. “It was one fist fight and a fire contained in a trash can outside said building. You just used that as an excuse not to campaign in my city.”

“How generous of you not to vent the belief, and a correct one, that I did not visit your city for I had no need for your votes, Mr. Stonewood. Despite your best efforts to isolate yourself and your Luddite friends there is no denying the benefits of technology and new ways of doing things. In time even your fractious younger generation and their offspring will appreciate what they’re missing and embrace the future like it was the bosom of the All Mother. Now, take this seat.” Funa motioned to the empty chair to his left. “The Matriarch will not need it, and you should feel honored to accept it, especially for one that didn’t reply to my invitation. No doubt you would have come had the Matriarch asked.”

Like a stone Hysyth betrayed no emotion as he sat down. To his left was Estelle, and with her ‘ware she noted how the old man’s heart rate and perspiration didn’t change. His face wasn’t even red, especially after being told by what he considered his political enemy the damning truth.

/I don’t like him,/ said Grazia, sitting behind Estelle. /He emitting bad vibe waves on every frequency./

/He’s a curmudgeon, Corporal. The only thing you have worry about him is if he passes gas./

/Speaking of gas, where is Mr. Prym? He’s the only major government official that’s not here./

/The Interior Minister? Given how gassy he’s been in the press his bowels may have decided to do the real thing. His wife is here, however. Perhaps he’s feeling ill./

/Well, he’ll have to read about it in the papers then./

As for Pablo he gave the exchange between Funa and Hysyth only a few passing thoughts. Funa may very well approve of what Wulna is going to announce. Hysyth was just a stick in the mud and would very likely have a brain aneurism and a heart attack at the same time. Hopefully such unfortunate acts will occur later, for nothing must spoil the approaching perfect moment.

Given the discoveries at the central pyramid there was a collection of guards to prevent people from wandering inside. However some guards were loyal to Yusan Prym, those that weren’t had been subdued. Accompanied by his older brother Orent both men and a few Luddites ventured down the light-equipped hallway. Orent stride was confident and he found himself surprised by Yusan passing him. He had figured him to be forever cautious, but now it seemed Yusan had fully embraced his role, no, his destiny to restore the people of Gaia to the true service of the All Mother.

Upon entering the Despot’s Chamber Orent felt an undeniable pressure and darkness despite the lighting from the installed electrical lamps. The Luddites felt it too, but stuck to their task, finishing unrolling a line of cable and setting up a radio and battery pack. Yusan approached the ornate wooden chair, the same one he saw on Pablo’s monitor days earlier. The body of the Despot was as he remembered: ancient, malevolent and defiant. Its desiccated stare had no effect on Yusan as he removed a medallion from around his neck, tossing it aside with a well-deserved sense of finality. He had come to love and hate that decorative piece of gem-laden piece of metalwork. Loved that it served him so well, and hated for having it on his person for the bulk of his life.

For decades Yusan concealed the fact that he had psychic talent worthy of any priestess of Gaia. His family recognized this early on, and with their strong stance on how their world ought to be run they made it their goal that Yusan should be the one to bring about change. With a medallion that could cover one’s psychic’s talent recovered and spirited away from Hadala the young Yusan was put upon a journey that would one day place him exactly where he was today. Very few knew of his talent, and among those that didn’t included his wife and family. Whenever the question came up he would say it was a gift from a previous Matriarch, blessing the wearer with good health and luck and charged to pass it on to another person that was worthy when the time arose. The only times that medallion came off was when Yusan was sure no one else with psychic gifts was nearby, or when he did his yearly retreat to the mountains, practicing his talent and reading from ancient papers and histories about the Shield. Every verse, every step was ingrained in his mind. He was very happy that he had lived to see this day come, and that he was the one right here and now. There was great doubt in his mind that had he not lived that his successor, if not successors, would ever get a chance like this.

“Hurry, brother,” said Orent with urgency. With medallion removed Yusan’s psychic power caused the chamber to glow an intense blue, greater than the shard of crystal that confirmed his talent so many years earlier. The crystal eyes of the Despot shined, as well as those of the three Sparkmen sprawled on the floor. This made the Luddites skittish but Orent’s force of will made them stay. “Foln is awaiting word from us so that he can break into the transmission.”

With a deft hand Yusan removed the crystal from the Despot’s right eye socket like it was stubborn apple from a tree. There was no supernatural scream or cursing words in ancient Neo-Atlan that he expected, but for the life of him Yusan swore that the mummified face glared hatefully at him. For that perceived look the man lifted the dried-out husk of the Despot and tossed him as if it was an unruly patron of at a bar. Not bothering to sweep away the dust and residue Yusan sat down in the chair, his right hand holding the bright crystal tightly. He closed his eyes, focusing on the words needed to be said in Neo-Atlan and the conviction to make them true. “Shield of Gaia, acknowledge me as your master so that I made defend this world with your power.”

A blue haze surrounded Yusan, and it was that scene that made Orent step back startled. Sounds of chimes filled the chamber like it was a musical recital and blue lights strobe, pulsed and throbbed. Opening his eyes, Yusan found a hologram before him, an amber representation of the planet. With a thought it zoomed into that region surrounding Hadala. It’s exactly what was written in the texts, Yusan thought. Looking at Orent, he decided to speak out his next commands. “East”, he said in the ancient tongue, watching as the light-constructed map scrolled to the continent’s eastern seaboard. “Stop. Follow the coastline southward.” A moment pasted. “Stop. Zoom into the harbor. Stop. Go northwest, slowly.” After each command a chime sounded, only then did Yusan compared it to the sounds made by the spacemen’s ‘computers’ when queried in a similar fashion. This is more than a computer. This is a link to the soul of Gaia herself.

Orent was able to follow what Yusan was saying for he learned Neo-Atlan as a child. On Gaia there are several Rosetta Stones, texts and tablets that preserved the ancient language and the translations of it into various other regional tongues and dialects that sprung up over the last 10,000 years. He kept an eye on the Luddites, glowering at them to stay put. They should be honored, Orent told himself. They are witnessing history in the making, a front row seat of what it was like before the Skyfall.

“Stop. Zoom onto the central hill. Stop.” Yusan looked at his brother, finding his face a bit perturbed, for he didn’t know he was looking at his older brother with eyes that glowed and pulsed the same shade of blue as the crystal he had in his hand. “Deploy the shards,” he said as if everything was normal.

“How many, Defender?” said a female voice for the ether that was as soothing and pleasant as that of the Matriarch. It took all of their will for the Luddites to say and operate the radio. Orent took a step forward, making a sharp nod of his head.

“All of them,” Yusan said after a deliberate pause, enjoying the look of apprehension on Orent’s face. So this is what power feels like. Real power. He only smiled on the inside as he looked at the target he selected for the Shield. Another part of him also felt great satisfaction as his psychic force reach out and made contact with the three Sparkmen on floor. Those three, and many more beyond.

Description
“So there they go,” Ensign Kathline Proskel said, watching from the vantage point of the portside rec hall’s viewports as a shuttle descended to the planet. “Estelle and her beau get to hobnob with top Gaian officials at Hadala. We should be down there, and doing our part cementing good relations between our two peoples.”

Lieutenants Aika Longstreet and Wanda Knudson grinned at the tone of annoyance in Proskel’s voice. “Sounds like someone didn’t get enough ‘cementing’ time with the local men,” teased the ebony Knudson. “What about that barber’s apprentice?”

“Apprentice indeed.” Longstreet mused. “He be should be a butcher after what he’s done to those kids getting their first haircuts.”

Knudson hummed and nodded. “Don’t worry, Katy. Sweeny Todd won’t be getting any competition from him.”

“Well, I say I got the best of the three of us,” Proskel retorted. “Little Miss Intelligence,” motioning with her head towards Knudson, “has her hooks on an accountant and Miss CIC swoons when her street musician boy-toy plays his flute.”

“He’s no boy-toy,” Longstreet retorted. “Malan happens to be part of the Silvertown Theatrical Music Company. He’s very talented, not the least of which being his lips.”

“And I love the way Gen handles his numbers,” purred Knudson. “He calculated the cost and how many square centimeters my bras will have to be when I get my bust to Angelican size.”

Proskel wrinkled he nose. “Angelican sized? You’re only allowed to get that big on active duty when 90% of your duty assignment is planet-side. Don’t tell me you got the belly hunger already?”

“What can I say? Gen has my heart. I’ve already put in my request to become part of the naval detachment assigned to the embassy. I think Ichiba will approve, and with the admiral’s recommendation it’s a sure bet.”

“Good luck with that,” Longstreet said in a snark. “You have 10,000 people ahead of you.”

*******

Commodore Tess Wilwerding, commanding a detachment of the task force from the battleship Vosberg, was watching a broadcast in her day cabin next to the bridge. It was a live shot from Hadala, transmitted to the Stroud and in turn sent over a hyperwave frequency to all Commonwealth ships in the system. Operating the camera was Lt. Estelle Carson, and at this particular moment it was focused on a wedding in progress. Like everyone else watching Tess was in awe as the Matriarch performed the wedding ritual. It has be that crystal she’s wearing, she thought. From Angelican to pillow-woman size in moments, and four times in one day. What I wouldn’t do to have that crystal for one night with Reginald!

The idle wish was banished by a buzzer. Tess sent a ‘ware command to open a comm channel on her desk monitor. It was Hendel, the Vosberg’s captain. “Commodore, we have an inbound ship in hyper. There are none due to arrive today, and its vector isn’t from any Commonwealth system.”

“ETA and approximate point of entry?” Tess asked crisply.

“20 minutes to emergence, plus or minus 2 minutes. The ship will enter normal space approximately 100,000 kilometers sunward from the hypercomm platform in the outer system.”

“That’s too close to be an accident, Captain. Put the task group at general quarters and prepare a hyper jump to a position 200,000 kilometers from the intruder’s estimated entry point. The jump will commence in five minutes. I will be in the CIC before then.”

“Aye aye, Commodore.”

Tess left the cabin and headed down the corridor leading to the combat information center, her mind considering the possibilities. If it was an unscheduled visit by a freighter, be it official or a merchant trying to get his foot in the door, then his head will be handed to him. A pirate raid by one ship was both useless and suicidal, unless it was meant to destroy the hypercomm platform and thus deprive Tess and by extension Admiral Carson of both long-range hyper sensors and communications. With each step she was convinced it was the latter, for all inbound ships were to exit hyperspace at a particular point in the system. Besides, the location of the hypercomm platform was not general knowledge. Somehow that knowledge leaked out, and that smelled of pirate bribery.

The lighting in the corridor was now punctuated by the steady beat of glowing red panels and a chime signifying general quarters. Tess picked up her pace, knowing she was going to get contacted by Admiral Carson at any moment.

********

The late afternoon sun made the colored stonework on the five pyramids of Hadala flair with new life. With her shoulder-mounted micro camera Estelle took in the sights and the huge gathering of Gaian civilians and government officials. From her perch on top of the southern pyramid she and her companions also had a great view of the airfield and its collection of Skyliners, Observers, semi-rigid and rigid airships. The only Commonwealth representatives present was Estelle and Grazia, an agreement meant to placate the more hidebound politicians but one that made Premier Funa disappointed.

“This occasion would’ve been more complete had your uncle been here,” said Funa as he looked at the expanse of Hadala’s recovered and restored ancient buildings. “He is a man of great accomplishment and history.”

“Believe me, he would be here if his presence didn’t incite the Luddites into doing something even more stupid,” said Estelle, having used a ‘ware command to mute the audio of the conversation. “As for me and Grazia they know we can fight, and the Hadala people support us totally.”

Hearing her name had Grazia ask a question. “Are those Luddites still afraid that the Commonwealth will seize this planet and have Admiral Carson as its governor?”

“Sadly that’s the case, Corporal Grazia. The Midsummer Festival is often used to announce major news, both from the government and from the Matriarch. If the Admiral was here it would’ve been taken as proof that your Commonwealth had something devious in mind.”

“Perish the thought, Premier,” said Jeln, placing his hand on Estelle’s left shoulder. “What the blessed Rebecca and Pamela started we will finish, uniting us with the rest of humanity. A union that can only benefit us all.”

Funa looked down the pyramid and saw one of his aides gesturing to him. “Wise words, Mr. Kreyler. But right now we have to get going. The Matriarch is about to give her speech.”

Estelle enabled the audio to the micro camera again as she and Jeln walked down the pyramid steps, her arm around his. “Do you think she will give her official endorsement of the ‘spacemen’, Jeln? That would pretty much make the critics put up or shut up.”

“I’ve never heard that phrase before, Estelle. It seems to imply that those opposing the spacemen will resort to resistance and violence or just quietly simmer until they’re no longer relevant.”

“You got it right, Jeln. The next several weeks should tell.”

*******

Omaha was glad that she finally made it back to Hadala, her O-3 carrying three Johnny-come-lately mayors that for some reason or another were unable to book an earlier flight on a commercial aircraft. For six hours she listened to their chatter, ranging from taxes, municipal bond campaigns, utility upgrades and police and firefighter budgets. She was anxious to get back in time to listen to the Matriarch’s speech in person, but was even more anxious to be with her husband Shan. For tomorrow the couple will be going on their honeymoon. The forested sides of the Gold Spur mountains offered plenty of game to hunt and rustic lodges to spend long nights together in front of warm fireplaces.

On approach to the Hadala airfield Omaha saw that it was nearly packed. Much of the space was taken up by airships, secured in portable roofless hangers. Upon landing Omaha had to taxi the O-3 all the way to the end of the strip, the only advantage being that it was near the radio station. She had to sign in and inform Silvertown Airport personally that she and her passengers arrived safely. At a brisk pace she walked to the station as the three mayors piled into an awaiting car and moved at a great clip down the access road to the temple complex.

Inside the station Omaha didn’t see the usual receptionist or security guard. The people in their place were unknown to Omaha, and she sensed a tension that was unexpected for such a festive day. After signing in she went down the hall to the broadcast room. Around the corner she was confronted by two men dressed in camouflage jumpsuits and armed with short-barreled shotguns. Their faces were dabbed with green and black paint with an odor that reeked of the outdoors. One of the men put his hand over Omaha’s mouth while the other one jabbed a shotgun into her belly. “You best stay quiet, woman,” said the one with the leveled weapon. “If you yell or try to escape you’ll arrive in the arms of the All Mother far too soon. Understand?”

As much as she wanted the bite the fingers over her mouth Omaha could only nod in agreement. With arms painfully held behind her back the Forestry Service woman was lead down to the station’s basement. Two more camouflaged men were at the door, and when they opened it they gestured with their shotguns for Omaha to go down the steps. At the bottom she saw what had to be the station’s staff, along with one relieved-looking Shan. The newlywed couple hugged with understandable intensity.

“What’s going on?” Omaha said after releasing Shan from her embrace.

The light-haired mechanic looked up the stairs with an intense grimace. “I was waiting in the lobby when a whole bunch of those nature-smelling cretins came in and shoved guns in our faces. Along with that gross violation of gun etiquette they handled everyone roughly and tossed us all down here. The only thing we heard them say was something about the Matriarch’s broadcast at 5 p.m.”

“Gaia’s goodness! Shan, they could only mean to hold the Matriarch and the Premier hostage. We got to get out of here.”

“Not with those goons up there,” Shan said while pointing up the stairs. “Plus the ground level windows are too small to squeeze through, even for you.”

“Then we’ll dig our way out,” Omaha countered. “We’ll chip away at the mortar between the blocks under one of the windows. Once we loosen them we’ll pull them out, remove the bottom window sill, and dig out the dirt until we make enough room to make our escape.”

“That’s a Gaia-blessed idea, Omaha.” Shan pulled out a short flat-head screwdriver from his work suit pocket. “Today I’ll be a miner like my old man.”

At the base of the southern pyramid the crowd took to their seats. For hundreds of others they stood in a tightly packed group between the last row of chairs and the raised bandstand for the movie cameras, photographers, reporters and commentators. In his front row seat Pablo Enriquez watched as Matriarch Wulna ascended the steps to get onto the wooden platform erected on the side of the pyramid. He was ecstatic, for in a matter of moments Wulna will call for him to be on stage as makes their marriage public. Wulna wore an ankle-length skirt a rich shade of green and a shawl of silver draped across her immaculate Angelican-sized breasts. He had come to know those firm yet soft mammaries, only yearning for the evening to come all the more quicker so as to place his head and shoulders between them while Wulna read ancient poetry by candlelight.

“Ah, she must be tired,” said Premier Funa, sitting to Pablo’s left. “Four times her bosom swelled and receded this day, the most she has ever done at one time. I imagine it will be a short speech, just like the one I’ll be giving after she’s done.”

“Assuming that you will get to say that speech,” Pablo said whimsically. He saw the stern look on Funa’s face, immediately noting that it wasn’t directed at him. Turning in his seat, Pablo saw the recipient of that look. It was an old man, perhaps having a decade over Funa and showing a face that had decades more of working outside in the elements. He could’ve taken the air of a wizen, beloved grandfather but in Pablo’s eye the man looked like a disgruntled, dried-out grape.

“Gaia’s greetings, Mister Premier,” said the old man sarcastically. “As you didn’t campaign in my fair city of Cedar Bluff I had to use this opportunity to see you in person.”

“Hysyth Stonewood, I would have gladly visited your fair city had I been welcomed,” Funa replied with an equally acerbic tone. “The way my supporters were run out of town and my campaign office burned to the ground told me that my presence would’ve inspired misguided souls to visit violence upon my person.”

“That was the younger generation’s doing, and it wasn’t as sanguine as you made it sound,” Hysyth retorted. “It was one fist fight and a fire contained in a trash can outside said building. You just used that as an excuse not to campaign in my city.”

“How generous of you not to vent the belief, and a correct one, that I did not visit your city for I had no need for your votes, Mr. Stonewood. Despite your best efforts to isolate yourself and your Luddite friends there is no denying the benefits of technology and new ways of doing things. In time even your fractious younger generation and their offspring will appreciate what they’re missing and embrace the future like it was the bosom of the All Mother. Now, take this seat.” Funa motioned to the empty chair to his left. “The Matriarch will not need it, and you should feel honored to accept it, especially for one that didn’t reply to my invitation. No doubt you would have come had the Matriarch asked.”

Like a stone Hysyth betrayed no emotion as he sat down. To his left was Estelle, and with her ‘ware she noted how the old man’s heart rate and perspiration didn’t change. His face wasn’t even red, especially after being told by what he considered his political enemy the damning truth.

/I don’t like him,/ said Grazia, sitting behind Estelle. /He emitting bad vibe waves on every frequency./

/He’s a curmudgeon, Corporal. The only thing you have worry about him is if he passes gas./

/Speaking of gas, where is Mr. Prym? He’s the only major government official that’s not here./

/The Interior Minister? Given how gassy he’s been in the press his bowels may have decided to do the real thing. His wife is here, however. Perhaps he’s feeling ill./

/Well, he’ll have to read about it in the papers then./

As for Pablo he gave the exchange between Funa and Hysyth only a few passing thoughts. Funa may very well approve of what Wulna is going to announce. Hysyth was just a stick in the mud and would very likely have a brain aneurism and a heart attack at the same time. Hopefully such unfortunate acts will occur later, for nothing must spoil the approaching perfect moment.

Given the discoveries at the central pyramid there was a collection of guards to prevent people from wandering inside. However some guards were loyal to Yusan Prym, those that weren’t had been subdued. Accompanied by his older brother Orent both men and a few Luddites ventured down the light-equipped hallway. Orent stride was confident and he found himself surprised by Yusan passing him. He had figured him to be forever cautious, but now it seemed Yusan had fully embraced his role, no, his destiny to restore the people of Gaia to the true service of the All Mother.

Upon entering the Despot’s Chamber Orent felt an undeniable pressure and darkness despite the lighting from the installed electrical lamps. The Luddites felt it too, but stuck to their task, finishing unrolling a line of cable and setting up a radio and battery pack. Yusan approached the ornate wooden chair, the same one he saw on Pablo’s monitor days earlier. The body of the Despot was as he remembered: ancient, malevolent and defiant. Its desiccated stare had no effect on Yusan as he removed a medallion from around his neck, tossing it aside with a well-deserved sense of finality. He had come to love and hate that decorative piece of gem-laden piece of metalwork. Loved that it served him so well, and hated for having it on his person for the bulk of his life.

For decades Yusan concealed the fact that he had psychic talent worthy of any priestess of Gaia. His family recognized this early on, and with their strong stance on how their world ought to be run they made it their goal that Yusan should be the one to bring about change. With a medallion that could cover one’s psychic’s talent recovered and spirited away from Hadala the young Yusan was put upon a journey that would one day place him exactly where he was today. Very few knew of his talent, and among those that didn’t included his wife and family. Whenever the question came up he would say it was a gift from a previous Matriarch, blessing the wearer with good health and luck and charged to pass it on to another person that was worthy when the time arose. The only times that medallion came off was when Yusan was sure no one else with psychic gifts was nearby, or when he did his yearly retreat to the mountains, practicing his talent and reading from ancient papers and histories about the Shield. Every verse, every step was ingrained in his mind. He was very happy that he had lived to see this day come, and that he was the one right here and now. There was great doubt in his mind that had he not lived that his successor, if not successors, would ever get a chance like this.

“Hurry, brother,” said Orent with urgency. With medallion removed Yusan’s psychic power caused the chamber to glow an intense blue, greater than the shard of crystal that confirmed his talent so many years earlier. The crystal eyes of the Despot shined, as well as those of the three Sparkmen sprawled on the floor. This made the Luddites skittish but Orent’s force of will made them stay. “Foln is awaiting word from us so that he can break into the transmission.”

With a deft hand Yusan removed the crystal from the Despot’s right eye socket like it was stubborn apple from a tree. There was no supernatural scream or cursing words in ancient Neo-Atlan that he expected, but for the life of him Yusan swore that the mummified face glared hatefully at him. For that perceived look the man lifted the dried-out husk of the Despot and tossed him as if it was an unruly patron of at a bar. Not bothering to sweep away the dust and residue Yusan sat down in the chair, his right hand holding the bright crystal tightly. He closed his eyes, focusing on the words needed to be said in Neo-Atlan and the conviction to make them true. “Shield of Gaia, acknowledge me as your master so that I made defend this world with your power.”

A blue haze surrounded Yusan, and it was that scene that made Orent step back startled. Sounds of chimes filled the chamber like it was a musical recital and blue lights strobe, pulsed and throbbed. Opening his eyes, Yusan found a hologram before him, an amber representation of the planet. With a thought it zoomed into that region surrounding Hadala. It’s exactly what was written in the texts, Yusan thought. Looking at Orent, he decided to speak out his next commands. “East”, he said in the ancient tongue, watching as the light-constructed map scrolled to the continent’s eastern seaboard. “Stop. Follow the coastline southward.” A moment pasted. “Stop. Zoom into the harbor. Stop. Go northwest, slowly.” After each command a chime sounded, only then did Yusan compared it to the sounds made by the spacemen’s ‘computers’ when queried in a similar fashion. This is more than a computer. This is a link to the soul of Gaia herself.

Orent was able to follow what Yusan was saying for he learned Neo-Atlan as a child. On Gaia there are several Rosetta Stones, texts and tablets that preserved the ancient language and the translations of it into various other regional tongues and dialects that sprung up over the last 10,000 years. He kept an eye on the Luddites, glowering at them to stay put. They should be honored, Orent told himself. They are witnessing history in the making, a front row seat of what it was like before the Skyfall.

“Stop. Zoom onto the central hill. Stop.” Yusan looked at his brother, finding his face a bit perturbed, for he didn’t know he was looking at his older brother with eyes that glowed and pulsed the same shade of blue as the crystal he had in his hand. “Deploy the shards,” he said as if everything was normal.

“How many, Defender?” said a female voice for the ether that was as soothing and pleasant as that of the Matriarch. It took all of their will for the Luddites to say and operate the radio. Orent took a step forward, making a sharp nod of his head.

“All of them,” Yusan said after a deliberate pause, enjoying the look of apprehension on Orent’s face. So this is what power feels like. Real power. He only smiled on the inside as he looked at the target he selected for the Shield. Another part of him also felt great satisfaction as his psychic force reach out and made contact with the three Sparkmen on floor. Those three, and many more beyond.