The Prophesy: Book 4 - Armageddon

 

"Did the Dragons find any concentration of orcs?"

"Not really, Yamato. Those they found were converted into instant orc-kabob. We keep depriving them of food. Moving a whole herd of water buffalos under the nose of an orc hunting team was even more fun then hunting the orcs themselves. We let them go," said Williams.

"Who?"

"The orcs. We figured it would be more depressing to the horde if they learned that a whole herd vanished and their hunters couldn't even kill a single one!"

"Williams, you have been living with Harp too long. It's his style!" commented Dunbar.

"When you meet a master, it is always a good thing to learn all you can!"

"There is one thing that bothers me, guys."

"What is it?"

"See, there is very little radiation, according to the Geiger counter," replied Williams. "There is a lot of life, but have you noticed there are no humans? There are no reasons whatsoever for them to have vanished."

The others began thinking on the observation made by Williams.

"First, we are not sure there are no humans. We may simply not have found them yet. It's not because you don't see a wolf in the forest that there is none," said Dunbar.

"That might do for wolves, but humans usually settle. That means villages, fields, and the whole lot. Have you seen any of that? The wolf footprint is no wider then its own body. We know, we can travel a forest in a wolf pack and no one will be the wiser. But humans are a different matter entirely."

"There might have been other causes for their massive disappearance?" asked Yamato.

"Like what?"

"Sicknesses? War?"

"Gaia only knows. We need to find out what happened to them. It may be vital to our survival here."

"I took the time to get a duplicate of the last map made by the Ancients of the region. It showed a few big concentrations of population, but mostly, it showed great expanses of empty land. The issue I have with that map is it is marked 'Institut de Cartographie Coloniale de Belgique'²² ("Colonial Cartography Institute of Belgium.") and is dated 1957. There was an older one, from 'Service Cartographique des Départements Français d'Outre-mer'³³ ("French Overseas Departments Cartographic Services.") that covered another segment of our target, but it was even older, dating from 1951."

"That doesn't make sense! Normally, you have a few big centres, and a multitude of smaller urban centres and thousands of little homes, spread in farmsteads. It's like a desert!" said Yamato as he looked at the map Dunbar had brought with him.

"I think the keyword is colonial, here. What these colonial powers wanted were resources, not the population. For them these people where in the way, a nuisance."

"Williams may be right. We will have to locate these big centres and see what we can gain as information on the last days of these people. And the Wolf Conscience may be of help. I'll ask Harp to look into the issue while we explore the ground for any indication of what happened."

"Williams, you have the task of getting as much information from the ground on the issue; Dunbar, you deal with planning our progress; I'll focus on security, both medical and military. Try to get us to Leopoldville, as quickly and safely as possible," decided Yamato as he pointed on a black dot on the map.

"We must not forget that one cause of this situation may be the orcs themselves. Humans would do nice preys for orcs."

"Yes and knowing orcs are nomadic and generally clean the plate, we may find no trace of human life; the other animals could have made it out given they are less dependant on social structure to survive. A young buck and a pregnant female mare are enough to repopulate an entire area if the orcs move on. Human children need too much support to be left without parental care for long. However, we have more pressing problems, Dunbar."

***

Harp had been busy teaching a lot of magic. His brothers and sisters were kept occupied. He made a warding room that would let the trainees practice both offensive and defensive strategies.

"Remember! Magic isn't everything! You have to be fit and nimble to survive in a fight. I've been training you with wands, but we are going to go a lot further! You will learn to cast spells silently, without moving a muscle. Casting a spell is projecting energy; it does not require any movement to do so. You need not even need to see or hear your target to cast a spell."

"What are wands?" asked Banjo.

"The true answer? Crutches. They are totally unnecessary. The wood doesn't even carry anything, it acts as a focal point for your attention and your opponent' attention. That won't be the same with the staves. Now, these actually carry a core that can amplify and focalise magical energy because they carry a magic string."

"And what about these swords?" asked Cello.

"They are advanced staves. They are built on the same principle, but they use metals rather then living matter. What does this tell you about magic?"

A lot of "Uh?" were heard.

"Magic is inherent to the structure of the Universe. It is not specific to life; as proof, the crystals under our feet, made of orichalque, are not alive, yet they are burdened with magic. We also have huge reserves of another magical metal, and no it is not gold. Gold is a beautiful but totally useless metal except as conductor. The metal I'm talking about is mithril. It is a lot less rare then orichalque, but is also a poorer container of it. Nonetheless, it is good enough to enter that rare category."

"Are there others?" wondered Viola.

"I am not aware of others. But then, I am not a metallurgist. We might ask Thorsten that question. However, all Thorsten can say with certainty is what he has seen with his own sense. And he hasn't been everywhere, even on this planet. Anyway, back to creating gold coins. You noticed yesterday something, at least I hope you did!"

"Not everything that shines is gold."

"Yes Viola, there is that, but what else?"

"Arriving at the correct ratio proved difficult. We all have a subjective measure of what is an ounce."

"Correct, Cello. What did you learn?"

"We confounded weigh and volume."

"Again true, Banjo. Anything else?"

"To disperse rather then destroy an object. But you never explained to us why it was necessary," said Violin.

"True. In order to show you what happens when you destroy, utterly destroy matter we need to move out of Thebes. Let me see I think the deep arctic will do well; let me warn the others about the demonstration so they aren't alarmed!"

The fact that Harp felt the need to inform all magical entities of the upcoming demonstration drove the nail deeper then any admonition would ever do. Once everyone was informed, and the time set, he brought one of the smallest malformed coins with him.

"Remember, this one is first, sulphur oxide, not even gold which is a lot denser; it weights less then a quarter of an ounce. Let me place it on the bottom of the ocean, and remember there is three miles of ice below us."

After porting the coin below to the sea floor, Harp invited them to move back a hundred miles, to lie down in the snow, and he gave them goggles so dark they couldn't see each other.

"Why the goggles?"

"Trust me, you will need them! Oh yes. I almost forgot: Earmuffs and plugs. I don't want you deaf!"

After distributing the additional protection wares, Harp made sure everyone was properly wearing the stuff.

«One last point! I will be counting down in your mind. Under no circumstance are you to sense with magic the result. The reason I contacted every magical being was to prevent accidental magic burn-outs."

The explosion was phenomenal, producing 1.27572854x10¹⁵ Joules. The ice was pushed up into a giant dome before crashing back in the ocean. Even from a hundred miles, the flash of light was like seeing the sun pop on the ice shelf. The students heard a terrible rumble a few minutes later as the sound wave reached them. They were happy about the earmuffs!

"Back to Thebes, before the ice cracks reach us!" said Harp as he ported everyone back to class.

"Need I say more?" Harp asked as everyone stood up shakily in the classroom.

"Where did all that come from?" said Piano in a small voice.

"Disintegrating requires anti-matter to be total and complete. For each atom of matter, an atom of anti-matter equal in mass must be first created and then put in contact with an atom of matter. That makes for a lot of energy expanded. When you think something stupid like disappear with magic intents, you are telling magic to create anti-matter to make matter disappear. You will get the result you asked for, and then some! If I did that to say a rock of several tons, I could push the planet out of orbit! As a side-effect, you will be dispersed."

"What is the difference between dispersion and that horror?" asked Piano.

"When you disperse, the atoms are kept intact. It is only their chemical bonds that get removed. It does not mean it is not hot, it is! So, when you disperse, you place the object in a magic containment field, to get plasma. You then send the matter in that state somewhere where it is released from the containment field safely."

"And if we do not put it in a containment field?"

"You get blown to bits, if you are lucky, or roasted to a crisp."

The portrait described by Harp made them shiver. It wouldn't be tomorrow they would do either magical task!

"I feel uneasy about this. What if magic misinterprets my intentions?" asked Cello.

"That is why I'm teaching you clarity of thought. Vague thoughts lead to unpredictable results, as the coins demonstrated."

"Is that why your language is so crisp and clear, never giving leeway to interpretations?" wondered Piano.

"Yes. I live in my magical core all the time. Therefore everything I say is magical. I need to be on my toes all the time. At first it is difficult, but it becomes second nature with time. I am not the only one. Dad, mom, all those of high magic are like that, even the bonded Dragons and the Canines and Equines. That is why Ian's word is binding as well; he speaks, breaths and lives magic at all times. When he says something, it binds magic, much like we all do."

"I don't feel that way."

"Maybe not, Jefferson, but you will in time. Your magic has been binding ever since you inherited the Davis throne, and that is why it protected you so effectively; it is also why you survived, and why Mitsuko recognized your vow of fealty to Atlantis, before dad adopted you. You were Atlantean in word if not in knowledge."

"What about Alexander?"

"Jefferson, he has not come into his magic yet, but he will shortly. At that moment, I will make sure that his thoughts need to be as regulated as his language. I have begun teaching him these things, but it is difficult for a barely two-year old. Between now and the discovery of Power, he will learn control."

"And if he does not?"

"Cello, his magic is bonded to mine, as are yours. You will get your full potential when Magic and I feel you have full control. I can not, will not, let you access your true Power until I'm sure, absolutely sure, you will have total, continuous and complete control over your magic."

"How is that possible?"

"Violin, I am the Prince of Magic. Magic and I are one. Each instance of magical use passes through me. I do not monitor low-magic use; it would be prohibitive. But whenever a Mage tries something he is not ready for or that could have dire consequences, it fails. I need not even think about it; Magic itself asks me what it should do, and I decide. There are set rules, so I do not have to intervene all the time for idiots."

"Even dad?" wondered Jefferson.

"Even dad!"

"Does it bother him?"

"No, he understands the need for safeguards. So does Ian. We all have bad tempers, and that mixed with almost limitless magic is a recipe for trouble."

"What happens if you lose your temper?"

"Then it falls on Ian to block me. So far it hasn't happened. On the other hand, I had to block Ian once."

"Knowing the little devil, he must have been mad!"

"Violin, he was hopping mad, but he couldn't do anything about it. Temper tantrums and magic do not mix."

***

Paschal was continuously busy verifying the inventory of what had been recovered from the bottom of the Atlantic, As each item was indexed, he found more and more Atlantean ships had taken the dive on the last days of Atlantis II. The containers were mostly intact, testament to the workmanship of those who had built them; however, ships had been strewn all over the ocean, some even reaching the Southern Continent before finally floundering. The weather during the fallout of the Baby Moon must have been atrocious at best for these ships of the line to end up so dispersed.

As each item was identified, it was assembled with the existing components of Thebes, gradually completing the city's construction. As the last spider left the Atlantic to join those already hard at work recovering the lost treasures at the bottom of the Pacific and Indian oceans, Paschal analysed the recovery effort and noted that only minor pieces were missing, in the order of a quarter of one percent of the total. Maybe Atlantis II had not manufactured these components in time to put them on shipping, but whatever the reason, they were missing. None were critical, and he set to the task of getting them manufactured within the Elvin Kingdom. He put Thorsten on quality control, knowing quite well from his talk with Harp that the Dwarf King would not let any shoddy piece go by.

He then returned to his super-secret project. Everyone wondered what it was, but the only indication it was something big was his request from Harp for access to an empty tessaract with a billion to one ratio and very severe climate control conditions. Another indication of the special nature of the future contents of the tessaract was his request for nitrogen extraction units from Thorsten. All it told the others was it was not living matter that would land in there.

***

Many areas of Thebes had yet to be explored. As the Atlanteans cleansed it up, many strange discoveries were made and reported to the Archivists. Since Yamato was busy deep in Africa with his mission, it fell on Diamondcutter, Samson, and others of the Privy Council to understand the meaning of what was being discovered in writing. Books, scrolls and ridulian sheets were duplicated and moved to the Royal Library and the General Library, but the originals were left on-site, right beside the strange machinery that was being discovered as the exploration progressed. Thousands of miles of hallways were systematically mapped, and pipes of all sorts were identified: Water mains, sewers, filtering, recycling, hydraulic, energy flux, communications, porting nodes, and other strange gadgets. Most were left inactivated, while others came online the moment an Atlantean walked by. Still others required the presence of a Royal family member to be put on standby. Many had been specifically designed for a species, be it Canine, Equine, or Biped. Some had really small bipedal stations, like they were designed for children, while others were clearly designed for Trolls.

Strange rooms, that seem to contain empty racks and doors that currently refused to open, were discovered all around the periphery of Thebes. The Elves were baffled by the strange bevelled ceramics that were seen on the floor, covered in thick dust. After spending days removing the dust from the floor, they could discern through the scratches and residual dust a strange drawing on each tile. All tiles were identical, and after doing their best to continue the cleanup, they still could not figure out what they were seeing.

Finally, out of their wits as to what these things were, they resolved to call up on higher authority to identify the objects. It took weeks for the request for a higher-up to get answered, and that person was as baffled as the janitors. The request went another level up, and the waiting game began anew. As with any bureaucracy, the bigger it gets, the slower it moves, and as things bubble up, the slowness is exponential. Weeks passed before the request moved to a person who bothered doing a search for the required information, but then that person wanted more information, such as a drawing. By the time it reached the janitors that had placed the first request, they had made other discoveries and that one had taken its place in the queue of unexplained things they had made. Requests were bubbling up and sinking down, sometimes colliding with each other.

Figure 1: A Spider Tile

When one of the janitors finally remembered what the request was about, arose the need to hunt for someone capable of doing a good drawing and going back to the now cleansed up rooms.

A form the janitors dutifully filled, which included fields for location, frequency, any differentiating signs or writings, accompanied the drawing. The janitors noticed numbers and signalled them. There were also texts numbering centuries and legions. That told them these were planned, but not what they were. There were all sorts of specialised legions: maintenance, defence, offence, exploratory, cold weather, mining, mineral differentiators, command, hospital and landing types. The janitors were not dumb: they understood that they had not even scratched the variety available, since they had not even covered one thousandth of the space, so they told that as well.

The sheaf of paper began its climb back up the ladder. Being a lot thicker then a simple information request, it stuck like glue on the desks of the intermediate echelons, as they were too afraid to deal with the thick pile of paper. Some had the good sense to just push it up, but others began reading the report and got lost; rather then admit they didn't understand a damn thing about what they were reading, they held to the papers like some life buoy in the hope that understanding its contents would propel their career in the Atlantean bureaucracy. It took lateral displacement of the sticky nuts for the papers to progress further up, generally a month after its arrival on the desk of the incompetent fool, who was generally shocked to notice he had been sunk one level during the lateral transfer. None of them understood that the principle of Peter was well-known to the Atlantean Royals and that promotions were given to competent people, not to those that tried to push their way up by climbing on the back of others. Unwillingness to admit incompetence was a certified way to demotion. These reports from the janitors, and there were many, were the demise of numerous overinflated egos. As Harp had explained to a dissatisfied paper scratcher, life in the Atlantean bureaucracy was like living in a thermal column: you rise to your incompetence level and you sink back into the fire to forge a stronger competence level, or you get your butt roasted in the fire.

It took six months to reach the desk of a high-echelon bureaucrat. By then, the bureaucrat in question had heard of the Spiders, but he never had seen one, even if he had been in the last battle. Nonetheless, he understood this was a mechanical device and that the best one to talk to about these things was prince Paschal, the architect. So, off he went to find where he could meet the prince, carrying the fifty-page long report under his arm. He had noticed the successive layers of comments added in front of the janitors' original single-page request, and he had estimated, rightly, that first-eye accounts were trustworthier then any wild imaginings done by all the layers of bureaucrats. He also noticed that some documents had been altered, and even removed. He had access to everything written and indexed in the Atlantean archives and rapidly rebuilt the sequence, putting a note as to whom had deliberately altered or destroyed a report. Those individuals didn't know what was coming to them!

It took the high-level bureaucrat a few days to even reach the level where the laboratories dedicated to Paschal were located. As he walked into one, he came face to face with a Spider being modified for a task, and immediately understood that he held a drawing of these giant and, admittedly, very scary things.

The technician outside the Spider was surprised to see a man wearing simple silk robes and no hard hat in a machine shop, but figured he had a reason to be there.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"I'm looking for Prince Paschal Imhophet, Grand Architect of Atlantis."

"Oh, he is in the next room. Please go back out, turn left, walk to the corner, turn left again and enter the first door to your left. He is there. Do not knock, he is jumpy lately."

"Thank you, I just hope it is not a bad time."

"I don't know what is up, but it's big. I entered there and there was that huge set of equations on the wall, that seemed to flow constantly. My eyes blurred but he seemed to be hypnotised by them. He was playing on a keyboard like it was an organ, and the equation set kept changing. I know the princes are special, but when I see them at work, I feel like an ant watching us walk by."

"Maybe I should wait."

"If you thought it was important enough to seek him out, he won't ignore you. Just sit and wait quietly. He may not respond right away to your presence, but he will in time."

"What is that thing you are working on?"

"Oh, that! It's a Spider. This one is a modification to act as maintenance in space. It has dedicated heating and cooling systems, anti-meteorite force fields, and a set of dedicated tools in its clamping forepaws."

"May I show you something?"

"Let me finish screwing this up, and stay near the door. It is unsafe to walk around here if you do not know where to step."

After a few minutes, the technician finished and walked to the door.

"Let's get to the coffee table in the hall. I need to sit down, my legs hurt."

The two Atlanteans moved to the table and each took a drink, the technician ordered from the synthesiser his coffee, and the bureaucrat, a hot chocolate. After sipping a bit of his coffee, the technician looked up at the bureaucrat questioningly.

"Let me show you something."

The bureaucrat flipped the thick report and turned the sheet so the image was clearly visible.

"That's a Spider. What about it?"

"It came up the bureaucracy with a request for identification. It is the janitors that are cleaning up the innards of Thebes that did the drawing. I have yet to go down there to meet these people that sent the request, but I doubt anyone ever saw that thing in the room."

"If I read this right, they found quite a few of these tiles. I think you were right to bring this to the prince's attention. I recognize some of the tasks already assigned to the Spiders, but some I am not aware of. I must say I am dedicated to building some prototypes, and others are busy doing others. Paschal seems to have an unlimited supply of ideas for Spiders. But this type of Spider is unknown to me."

"So I was right to come here?"

"Yes. In fact, I will be accompanying you there. I have to report the progress on the one I am working on. It is ready for testing and will be ported to the test ground later today to undergo its full check-up."

"I wish I could see that."

"Just follow us. I doubt the prince will object. He encourages curiosity. If there is one thing he abhors, it's people that sit on their seat and let the river flow by."

The two men finished their hot drinks, disposed of their cups in the recycle dissociator, and walked to the door where Paschal was working. As they entered the room, they saw Paschal watching another simulation. Suddenly, the prince jumped up and down, dancing in the room and doing the wheel and back flips, ignoring the two wide-eyed observers.

"It works! It works! It works!" kept hollering Paschal.

After a while, Paschal looked around. He finally noticed the two gentlemen sitting on a bench near the door. Paschal materialised a cup of water, drank it, and disposed of the garbage and sat on the same bench.

"So, what brings you here?"

"First, I finished checking the Spider prototype in the next room. I think it is ready for its tests. And this gentleman has something to show you that will interest you."

"Oh?"

The bureaucrat brought out the wad of paper, and handed it to Paschal without comment. Paschal flipped through the fifty sheets. He then looked at the bureaucrat.

"We need to go see these janitors. They did a good job, and the drawing is not too bad. Let me locate them."

After doing a quick check with the pink pyramid's data, Paschal had a good idea of where these janitors were currently working.

"Let's go! They are working on level twenty-one, in subsection P. I could port you directly there if it had been fully cleansed up, but it seems the hallways are filled with filth; and the portals are still too dirty to be used safely as well. We will port to level twenty, subsection P, just over them. Do you have port capabilities?"

Neither one had so they followed Paschal to a porting nexus placed in a recess of the back wall.

"Ok. Usually, I would say close your eyes, but since you won't even know you have changed places, it's not necessary. I could also port you myself, but I think you guys need to learn to use these nodes. It will become common usage for those unable to port due to insufficient magic. In time, we hope everyone will have enough magic to do that, but it may be a while still. Now watch."

The two porting tourists stood beside Paschal as he pressed his open right hand on a hand-shaped nook in the control desk.

"Notice that the moment you press down, the door is closed by a force field. It is safer then a material door, which might get stuck. Once the door is closed, the hand goes from red to green telling you the porting nexus is ready to bring you where you want. If you decide to cancel, just press again; the hand turns red and the door opens. Now, let's enter our coordinates. We are looking for layer basement twenty of subsection P. It is important that you know that you are going to the basement or the topside of Thebes. A basement is identified by a bar, a -, which means minus. So, let's enter the minus there, and twenty there. You can use this little spindle to move the number up or down. All addresses are absolute. There are no relative addressing methods. I could have done so, but I figured it would make things too complicated for the casual user. Next, you have this little keyboard that lets you enter the wing. There are numerous wings, names, addresses and such. For instance, I can enter the address for a tessaract here, and type in tessaract thirty-two. You have to know how to spell your destination properly. Let's enter the current, rather simple wing: P. Are there any questions?"

"How do we come back to our point of origin?"

"See that label? It says "Mechanical Development - Paschal - Level Wing D - Basement 09 - Room 409". This is the precise address of this room. Each room has its precise address, wing letters design hallways and a number identifies the layer, basement telling you it requires a negative number. There is another method to enter an address: DB09409 on the keyboard there."

"Do we have access to every area?"

"No, you do not. There are restricted areas, if only for your own security. For instance, porting directly into the Spider development rooms is prohibited even if they have their porting nexuses, except for very high-level individuals. The testing areas are also off limits, and naturally our own quarters. I can port anywhere, as can all the royals, but it is considered bad manners to port into each other's quarters, or, for that matter, in yours. You have your privacy, as long as it doesn't involve criminal activity. Anyway, porting may be fun, but it smacks of laziness. We don't want a collection of beer barrels. Walk if you can. There is no better way to settle your thinking process."

"I wonder what happens if I ask for a non-existent layer?" wondered the bureaucrat.

"It tells you so, and requests another address. That is a main reason why I do not want to port to layer B21. Many portal nodes are off-line and will not report present if I try to call them up. It is better to just drop by one layer then try to find an open port on layer twenty-one. As each portal node is cleansed up, the janitors run a diagnostic, and it gets added to the network after everything reports ok. They do not know what they do, but the result is what counts. Before you ask," Paschal said as he looked at the technician, when a portal reports a failure, Thorsten, Harp, or Typhoon port to its location and examine the issue. Generally, it's a simple question of a breaker failure, but sometimes it requires more sophisticated repairs. I had a whole production chain producing components for these portals. We have enough in store to last us a hundred years, so I'm retooling the chain for other products. Any more questions?"

After receiving nays from the two Atlanteans, Paschal then continued his explanations.

"Now, we have our address, everything seems fine, so we press again on the hand and we are at our destination. Notice the hand is now red; the coordinates on the desk have changed to PB20. It is terse, since this wing has not been dedicated yet."

The three Atlanteans walked down the hallway, the bureaucrat and the technicians impressed by the silence. It took them five minutes to reach a descending ramp. It had been freshly cleansed as was attested by the strong detergent smell coming from the walls, ceiling and floor. Paschal had to pinch his nose to tolerate the odour.

"Sorry, guys, but for a wolf, this is atrocious!"

If the technician understood the reference to the king of Canines, the bureaucrat was lost and looked it.

"I'll explain once we are back up," the technician whispered, well aware that Paschal could hear him.

They made their way to the still working janitors. The group was busy clearing the cobwebs and the dust, shovelling them in containers that sealed the dust in. To say that the team was surprised would not do their reaction justice.

"Your report has reached me, and I've come to investigate. Can you tell us where you saw this?" asked Paschal as he brought out the drawing.

"That's my drawing. It's been a while. We were working in another wing. Do you remember where it was?" he asked as he turned toward the foreman.

"I keep a log of what we do. Let me get my notebook."

The man took out a black-covered notebook, and began turning the sheets back. He kept mumbling about things. Finally, he found what he was looking for.

"Here it is. I noted this in the notebook: 'Reported discovery of strange tiles.' That was six months, two weeks and four days ago. I also noted we had barely begun working on that layer, which was relatively isolated and small compared to the others. We had just finished the halls and began with that room. It is at wing PKD at level B2550."

"OK. Have you ever seen deeper levels?"

"Personally, I have not, but other janitors reported deeper ones. If layers are all the same height, that puts this level at forty-five thousand feet."

"What was the deepest you heard of?"

"Level B2640. I suggest you check with the dispatcher's office. They have a log of activity for each team and are responsible for assigning us to each level. The dispatcher learns of new levels as we report them."

"I will do that, and also pull the plans of Thebes. I've been too busy with things to worry about the innards of this place, but I think it's time I have a better look."

"You have the plans?"

"Well, yes, I'm the architect!" said Paschal, nonchalantly. "Now that you mention these numbers, I sort of remember there were enough layers to shelter all life forms on this planet safely and a lot more. It was designed as the ultimate Ark. There are still so many things I have forgotten!"

The janitors looked at Paschal with a frown, clearly wondering if they were dealing with a guy ready for the loony bin. Their looks did not escape the prince.

"Guys, live seventeen thousand years in many reincarnations, and tell me if your memory would be crystal clear?"

The groans told Paschal that he had missed the boat.

"I think I need to make my identity a bit more clear. I am Paschal Imhophet, Architect of Atlantis. To prove my point "

Paschal converted to his wolf form, which had the expected effect: everyone fell on their arse except the technician, and scampered for cover! Returning to his boy form, Paschal continued:

"I don't think I need to give more explanations, do I?"

People stood on shaky legs, giving Paschal a wide berth.

"I prefer my meat nude and preferably not soaked in pee. So stop acting like kids seeing the big bad wolf. If you saw Timor's wolf form, there would be a big, if not necessarily bad, wolf!"

Paschal read the location of the dispatcher's office from the foreman's mind and took the time to feed it telepathically to his database up level.

"I see you have almost finished cleaning the node up. We'll wait for it to be cleaned up completely and activated. Come with me guys, I want to have a look around while the janitors finish their work."

Paschal walked along the hallway. Turning a corner, he saw that there was a foot of dust on the floor. He turned back and walked back to the other end of the passageway. Again, he met another foot of dust as he turned a corner.

"Damn, this place is dirty. I gather the rooms are as shitty!"

"I guess so. I think they were just beginning to clean up this place," replied the technician.

"Let's open that door."

Paschal moved and tried to push the door open, but it refused to budge.

"It's stuck! See what I meant with sticky doors?"

"I think it's jammed by dust and by the hinges being full of crass," uttered the bureaucrat.

"Maybe that's the reason."

Paschal backed away from the door, looked at it and it dissolved, much to the amazement of the other two.

"You were right. The hinges are so encased in crud it would have required a dozen men to make it move. And look at that layer of dust. I think I'm going to give these guys a hand and clean up at last that room. Back away."

Paschal began porting the dust from the floor, then cleaning up the walls, ceiling and hinges before recreating the door. Ten minutes later he was done.

"I think I found the proper task to train budding mages: assign one to each janitorial team and tell them to remove the maximum of the stuff while the janitors do the finishing touches."

"Are you sure it is a good idea?" asked the technician. "That might remove things hidden by the dust!"

"Come to think of it, you are right. Let's leave janitorial jobs to experts!"

By then the foreman walked to the group and signalled the portal was ready to be tested. Unfortunately, the first run gave a negative report. The janitors almost wet their pants when the report came back in the red. Paschal, on the other hand, quickly scanned the diagnostic, opened a board on the side and tripped a couple of switches. The second test did not work either, and one of the switches tripped back.

"I see; the molecular stabilizing array is dead. Wait for me, I'll be right back."

It took five minutes for Paschal to return with the proper equipment, a rather impressive fine mesh of mithril. He quickly unscrewed the floor, removed eight latches and levitated the floorboard, a thick metallic plate. There appeared a series of screws holding the previous mesh taut. It had traces of burns, and careful examination revealed a rodent had roasted and created an electric arc some years ago.

"I wonder where that critter comes from?" wondered the technician.

"I don't know, but we'll find out! Thebes cannot tolerate rodent infestations. That is too dangerous here. Too bad Spare Ribs and Fang Chao are now too big and independent to be used for this." Paschal clarified. "I'm talking about the sabre-tooth leopards my brother rescued. They are well past the kitten stage!"

The old net was removed and ported to Harp's laboratory along with the dried-up rodent and a note asking for investigations about the origin of that pest. Once things were cleansed up, Paschal installed the new net, brought it under proper screw tension, closed the manhole, and reset the trip switch. This time the portal nexus worked and linked with the system.

"Continue the fine work gentlemen!" Paschal said, before pushing his two companions in the portal, entering the address on the board, and pushing the transfer button.

***

Deep in Africa's interior, Yamato and his group progressed, porting vegetal and animal samples to the Ark and Eden projects by the ton. However, well aware that samples do not constitute ecosystems, the group also earmarked vast swaths of forest for integral porting, taking Ian's suggestion for the Pterodactyls a bit further. The magic markers were set to trigger porting immediately if a single orc came less then ten paces from the invisible and undetectable wards. As Yamato had made clear, their task was preserving and protecting, not feeding orcs. As yet, the orcs had to get near their exploratory forays, so the result was invisible on the African Continent.

"I wonder where they are?" asked Dunbar, one night. "This place should be like an open meat bar to them!"

"I know. There are so many things that escape me with orcs. One of these is their distribution. We know they can sail; however, their variety in sizes and fur colourings tell us they have been exposed to a wide range of climates. Do they interbreed or is size a barrier? The biggest orcs we ever met were those in the Centaurs' homeland, but there was that general in the Elvin kingdom that looked remarkably similar to them. If an African group made the trip and passed through the radiation belt that marred the western coast, it is indicative of e much-higher intelligent than we though."

"I read somewhere that tall animals grow in high grasses because it gives them an advantage in spotting predators and hunting. Could it be that is what is occurring with African orcs? Meanwhile the northern variety that inhabits America is more adapted to cold weather by staying smaller and somewhat fatter to survive the cold better," said Williams.

"You are talking like orcs came from a common stock," replied Dunbar.

"I don't know, but the level of similarity is stunning, while the level of diversity is also remarkable. Remember our orcs: dark-haired while those in Africa have somewhat lighter hair, as if they were trying to reflect more light," said Dunbar.

"We were too busy to run statistical analysis on the distribution of subtypes of orcs. And I doubt Ian was in a mood to stop the battle to do a census!" added Yamato with a smirk.

"I wonder how they reached America? After all, Asia and Europe are so radioactive the coasts shine at night!"

"Williams, you assume that they moved out of Africa. Who says it's not the opposite? They could well have crossed the Atlantic and reached Africa from the coast of South America. For that matter, they could have also reached the coast of New Zealand from the same continent."

"The numbers do not match, Dunbar. You saw how numerous they were during the air battle over Tahiti! That would have required an armada!" retorted Williams.

"That goes both ways! I doubt that there was a land bridge between the Australian continent and New Zealand in the past six or seven thousand years!"

Yamato loved to see the constant bickering between the two men. At least it kept their evenings lively.

"Maybe not, but it is a lot easier to move from Australia to New Zealand then from America to New Zealand!" replied Williams, sure he had the last word.

"When we go back to Thebes, I'll get into the Blue pyramid and ask if it has a migration log for orcs. That thing scares me with its exhaustive database, but at least, we'll stop sterile debates!"

Williams knew he had been had, again!

"All that is nice, guys. What is the nature of terrain we are entering tomorrow?" asked Yamato, closing the debate for the evening.

"The dragons report the nature of the vegetation will change from open savannah to forest near sext. There are a lot more rivers, and the ground is rising, inducing a lot more rain."

"I hate wet weather!" commented Williams.

"That from a shipwright!"

"I'm a carpenter, Dunbar; accessorily, I learned how to build simple ships. I wouldn't dare claim to be a shipwright. Wet conditions are not the best for carpentry: the wood takes too long to dry; it rots; it bends."

"Don't worry, we will stay dry. I plan to put in a force field to act as umbrella. I don't like being wet no more then you do guys," said Yamato.

"I wonder how Ian is doing? I hear the Amazon isn't dry, by a long shot," wondered Williams.

"Knowing him, he is probably enjoying himself, nude as a jay bird, and running under the rain!" replied Dunbar, smiling at the thought.

***

Ian and his team had finished going up the Rio Negro and were travelling back to the Amazon, finishing the porting of animals to Ark. That evening, a question arose.

"Ian, I'm looking at that aerial map. Should we hop into the Orinoco basin and do it right away? We are very close to it," asked Raja.

"No. Let's finish the Amazon basin. Then, if we have time, we do the Orinoco."

"Ok. I think we should stay on the same side of the river. The next big branch to travel up is the Japurà. It is considerably shorter then the Rio Negro."

"That promises to be fun. White-water piroguing is not a piece of cake!" Edwin said.

"At least, there are no piranhas. They tickle so much when we walk in the water!" the Dwarf boy said.

"Luckily we can take dragon boy shape or you wouldn't be saying that!" replied the young Unicorn.

"Let's take a nap. I think we can float down the Rio Negro during the night, given we can see infrared," decided Ian. "I want to reach the Amazon in a day or two. Anyway, nightlife has been the poor parent in our collecting. It's time we remedy the situation."

It took slightly more then three days to reach the Amazon. The level of water had dropped suddenly, making navigation more hazardous. Whole schools of piranhas kept them company, biting at every row strike. The only advantage of this was that catching food was a breeze. Dip a hand in the water, grab and you get a toothy meal. The situation promised to get a lot more difficult as the expedition moved further upriver.

"Will we port these carnivorous fishes?" asked Hildegard.

"I don't see why not. They are part of the ecosystem. We will port a school to the Ark's aquarium, then port a slice of the ecosystem, if not all of it later, as soon as we are done dealing with the humans and orcs."

"We better notify the aquarium about these fishes. They are dangerous," suggested Edwin.

"I already did last night while I was on guard duty. They are setting up a special secure aquarium for them," replied Ian.

After a few minutes of letting the pirogue progress along a wide curve, Ian spoke again.

"I talked to Yamato. They have begun progressing in the equatorial forest. It shows signs of suffering from the dry spell that is ravaging Africa."

"Maybe this is also happening here, Ian. Look at the level of the water. Yes, we had a lot of rain near the sea, but these rivers should be a lot higher! There are water-marks indicating the Amazon is at least ten feet below normal," replied Xianathan.

"That is alarming. Such a change in weather pattern affects not only river levels, but also distribution of food, and makes the hunter-gatherers a lot more prone to conflictual behaviour, something we really do not need," Ian noted.

"Anyway, here is the next tribal land. If I remember the mental image we collected from the tribes we collected earlier, this tribe is composed of head-hunters," Raja mentioned, as they progressed along another meander of the Amazon. "Their social structure is somewhat different from those we have met so far. From what I understood, the tribes use a tam-tam to communicate with each other and join in battle. They were really feared by the others," Raja said.

"That is not likely to bother us. By the way, I see a man crouching on a branch ahead of us, probably the guy in charge of beating the alarm," replied Edwin.

"I'll port him directly to Thebes, totally disarmed. Edwin, warn Thebes of the incoming client for a cryogenic chamber. I want to progress as far as possible in that territory before the alarm is drummed up," Ian said.

"It's done. Healer Francesca has taken the policy to leave at least five hundred cryogenic chambers on standby at all times given our constant supply of trauma cases."

The man vanished quietly, barely having the time to realise he was in a transparent container before falling asleep as the soma unit encircling his head kicked in. Twenty seconds later, he was asleep, and immersed in an antioxidant gas that halted cellular oxygen exchange before the temperature dropped to just above freezing. He was assigned a priority number, a sequence number and pushed in storage until such time he could be processed.

Ian made silent progress along the river. As they neared a curve, they noticed that the trees advanced in the river, indicating a strong flow of fresh water.

"That must be the downstream side of the Japurà. Let's move closer to the shore. I want to stay hidden as much as possible. I would be surprised if there was only a single watchman. That one was pretty naïve to crouch on the branch. Any good watchman hides from view, and stays as close to nature as possible. That one literally stood out against the light sky," said Edwin.

The boys progressed under the cover of the trees, keeping an eye for booby traps. They made it another mile before Raja spotted another watchman. That one was more discreet, lying on the ground, under a root. The man was watching them get closer; he was sure he had not been detected. Right behind him, a jaguar was watching him, getting ready to pounce.

Raja warned Thebes of another incoming delivery, while Ian eyed the drama.

"What are you waiting for?" said Xianathan.

"I want to port them both at the same time, one in the Ark and the other in the hospital. Anyway, that event will act as a catalyst for his healing."

Just then the jaguar jumped, roaring loudly. The man yelped loudly just as the cat vanished right in front of his eyes. Then he too went off to his destination. The roar had woken the sleepy forest, and monkeys, parrots and other inhabitants of the rain forest competed with each other for vocal dominance.

«Ian, why is there a cat in a human cryogenic chamber?» thundered Francesca.

«Ooops. Sorry. I'm doing the switch!»

The feline and the man exchanged cryogenic chambers, as the boys accompanying Ian were having a ball ribbing him for his magical mistake.

"Let's get serious. We must be getting close. From now on, silence is primordial. The forest has ears and eyes," said Ian, and he accepted the guffaws from his friends.

The pirogue resumed its progress, shrouded in silence. Even the paddles were silent, as the boys kept them in the water rather then raise them above its surface. Additionally, Edwin put a silencing charm on the canoe, while Hildegard and Raja handled the invisibility charm, a bit more complicated as it needed to be constantly adjusted on both sides of the boat to give any observer on the shores an unobstructed view of the river's other side. The only anomaly that could have indicated their passage was the wake, but given the river was rapid and covered with ripples, it vanished rapidly.

Along a straight part of the river invaded by a thick ticket of forests, Ian indicated he planned to bring their pirogue there.

«Edwin, Hildegard, Raja, maintain the illusion once we are there. There is a narrow waterway that goes between these branches. It is too narrow for our trimaran. We will get in the water and swim up the stream after I have ported the pirogue high up on the canopy. Once we are engaged deep enough, let's take to the trees. The chance of traps up there is less probable then on the ground.»

"What shape?"

"Parrots, as usual. I don't think that five cats would go unnoticed. Remember your shields! They have blowguns and bows!"

The boys made short work of getting ready. They climbed off on a slippery root and Ian ported the canoe high off in the branches, out of sight. The weight of the trimaran broke a branch, which fell down some distance from them. The boys looked at Ian with wide eyes, but since there was still no drum noise, they felt reassured.

«Falling branches in a forest are common occurrences. I doubt they would ring an alarm for that.»

The boys took to the water, getting constantly tickled by piranhas, and progressed along the narrow stream slowly. As the stream began to get ever narrower, the boys converted to green parrots, the most common variety in the area, and took to the air, much to the frustration of the piranhas, that made their displeasure known by jumping out of the water furiously.

«Idiots! You are at the bottom of my food pyramid!» said Raja.

«You are giving them more credit then they deserve. They are jaws with fins, nothing more!» said Ian, laughing.

«Did you notice the concentration of these predators is increasing as we progress?»

«Yes, I did, Xianathan. I think it's due to the dry spell. The number of feeding streams must be diminishing,» replied Edwin.

The five boys made it undetected to a group of hunters. The ten men and boys were trying to catch an armadillo, which had taken refuge in a thorny thicket. Ian ported the armadillo to the Ark, and watched, amused, the hunters try to locate the armadillo.

«You are bad, Ian,» said Xianathan.

«Well, they won't need it, will they?»

«But they are getting covered with thorns, all for nothing!»

«I have a plan. Don't worry. And these pincushions will be of help.»

After watching the hunters dig everywhere for their food, and finally abandon the hunt, Ian glided to the ground, followed by his four friends.

«Convert to dragon boy, green skin.»

The five boys reshaped behind the hunters, who were grumping at the missed hunt.

"Hunting my family isn't a good idea," Ian said loud enough from behind the hunters, who spun around in shock.

"Who are you? Where do you come from? What are you?" asked the hunters in unison.

"We are the shields of life! You have hunted it without consideration for the gift of life! You have become greedy! No one ever considers thanking the spirit of Life for its gift! You consider the other tribes lesser because they do not practice the same rituals you do! You have defaced these rituals to satisfy your need for cheap thrills and power!" thundered Raja, who had taken the role of speaker for that tirade.

"We come from the forest, the water, the air, the fire, and the earth!" added Xianathan.

"We are the Guardians. We protect Nature," Edwin completed.

"Get us to your village! On the double!" ordered Hildegard.

The hunters quickly moved in line, walking silently in the forest. Even with their excessive nervousness, long years of training made them walk without even breaking a twig. The boys followed, even more silently.

It took an hour to reach the place where the women were busy picking up fruits, digging out roots, and collecting vegetables. The early return of the hunters misled them into believing they had made a good catch, and the presence of the five boys completed the illusion, although they wondered what kind of food they were. The fact that the boys had scales had not escaped the troop, and the women rejoiced, a bit early, on a meat festival that night.

"Hunters, you better straighten out your female partners before a regretful misunderstanding costs them their lives!" said Ian.

"We will do so shortly, Sprites of the Forest!" replied the leader of the forest.

"Just do not wait until one of you finds a cold bed tonight," replied Raja, who was getting pretty pissed by the glances the females were giving to his rear. He felt like a pork roast before it got killed, a ham on feet, and didn't like the feeling one bit.