Boiling Turmoil

Dawn rose upon the lands of Atlantis waking tired souls that already experienced a very long night. Stationed between Skoupa and Kapni, the South Gate soldiers took up camp. Still only light in numbers the ranks slowly swelled in the morning as messages reached further away troops. The main garrison of troops at the South Gate still had half a day to reach the base and the outer stationed soldiers even longer.

Late in the night after assessing damage and strength, Simonides ordered messages sent out to his entire division to mobilize. He had underestimated the strength and power of the invaders, figuring on only one small battalion to deal with the threat after the initial search party failed. Two failures changed his view. They already penetrated further than thought possible. The invaders would face the full weight of the South Gate Division.

Since the morning finally came, one new duty befell Simonides that he didn’t look forward to handling. He made no outward show of it to his men, but it concerned him. Failures happened as expected, however correcting mistakes happened quickly. With how far the intruders made it so far, they wouldn’t be pleased. The actions he took wouldn’t set well either. He was no more pleased than his superior would be, but he couldn’t have planned for such powerful opponents. Hopefully, they understood it as well. Playing politics wasn’t his strength.

Simonides strode through the camp, still coming together. It only began to be set up a few hours ago as uninjured men arrived. All of the men in his squad remained unable to do much more than rest to recover from injuries. Eusebios spent the remaining hours of night healing any damage they took, but fatigue and exhaustion, naturally, couldn’t be returned. He expected them to be ready to move out when he gave them the order. They wanted their chance at settling the score as much as him.

Arriving at a large tent, he motioned to the White at the flips. “Communication Field. Link into the lines so I can speak with Command.” The man straightened up a little, coming to attention acknowledging the request. Rippling at the man’s feet was the last thing Simonides caught before passing through the tent flips.

He took up a seat at a simple wooden table that held a couple metal boxes and a smooth circular disc. No wires ran between the devices, but lights began to flash signaling power being sent to them. Simonides still had to wait for the line to be established.

All through the ground wires ran to all corners of Atlantis. The military communication line and emergency line made use of advanced technology compared to the rest of the land. At the time, it was more advanced than the outside world, but it had since caught up to them. But unlike the rest of the world, it remained inactive and inaccessible by normal means. The lines required the use of a Meso Presecho to connect to it, granting security and ensuring the public didn’t accidentally use it. In fact, most of the public knew nothing about it.

Leaning in the chair produced a creak of old joints rarely used. Dust still settled out from the cloth of the tent that hadn’t seen use in decades. The only thing that kept it in use rather than burned was the quality of its make. It gave an annoying remainder of how much they fell into complacency with only routine events popping up. No one prepared for anything such as this to occur. Simonides hated the feeling of unpreparedness.

Chapter 111 – Boiling Turmoil

Once the line finished connecting and someone on the other end accepted the call, the disc on the table began to glow. Particles of light streamed up from the disc reaching a quarter of a meter in height before cascading down. The effect created a fountain like surface tinted teal. A shape formed in the fountain taking on the appearance of Simonides’ superior.

Simonides stiffened a little trying to withhold his surprise of who appeared before him. “General Alexander!” He expected to be addressing one of the Majors or a Colonel stationed at Command rather than the General himself.

The projected head and neck of Demosthenes gave a polite knowing little grin. Age gave him clarity and keener sight into reading others. “No need to be so surprised, Captain.”

“…yes, sir...” He never knew completely how to be around the General. The aging man displayed many different emotions and personalities almost as though calling upon what was needed for the occasion. It always left him feeling like he was playing catch up to maintain the pace the man set for the room.

“Your message sent in from the emergency line caused quite a stir. Considering the nature of your report I wanted to hear this personally.”

The grave serious tone breaking into his words weighed on Simonides the importance of what he said. “As stated in the message there has been an incursion at the South Gate barrier. Our first attempt to capture and release failed at the barrier. More than thirty of my soldiers were knocked out in a matter of moments.”

Not even a twitch of an eyebrow came from Demosthenes. “They were not incapacitated by the barrier?”

“Negative, sir. Initial reports suggest that it had no effect on them.”

“Troubling news, indeed. You have renewed your search for them?”

“Once I arrived I mobilized the available men I had to continue the search. We found the intruders hiding in Skoupa. While conducting a search of the village we were ambushed by the intruders. They wiped out my team as well as our MP.”

“Even your MP. They must be very formidable to succeed in taking out a MP.”

“They were very powerful. I believe them to have at least three MPs of their own.”

“Sympathizers?”

“I don’t know, but they were speaking a foreign language from one of the Asian countries. They might be rebels working with outsiders.”

Demosthenes gave a small nod taking in the information. His features still maintained the same stone unflinching expression through the report. Considering his strength as a warrior and a Meso Presecho the threat could be seen as minor to him. “How many intruders have you confirmed?”

“I’ve been able to confirm from my men five all about teenage in appearance. Three males and two females, if appearances are to be believed. I believe there to be more that have not revealed themselves.”

“A feeling?”

Simonides stiffened a little with the sense of suddenly being stared at with greater interest. Which side the interest laid upon he wondered and feared a bit. “…yes…sir…”

Demosthenes gave a grin that a grandfather would have been proud to wear. “No need to be so stiff, Captain! In fact, I trust someone’s gut over something well calculated. It won’t fail you. Calculations can underestimate our opponent. You won’t be underestimating your opponent, will you Captain?”

“No, sir! I know my actions are highly irregular, but I believe this to be the greatest threat Atlantis has faced since its founding.”

“Indeed. Removing all of the troops off of the border patrol would normally have you before the council for recklessness and abandonment of duty. However, the situation is different. I’ve already calmed down the council, but you cannot fail again, Captain.”

“We won’t, General! The South Gate Division will stop their invasion of our land!”

“Glad to hear it. If you have nothing else to report.”

“Sir!” The fountain returned back to its original shape. All of the tension in the room finally let out allowing Simonides to let out a long sigh. He leaned back in the chair letting it groan a little from the full weight he placed on it. His exhausting night had turned into a fatigued morning after his report with the General.

Simonides stood up from the chair pausing a moment to let his thoughts collect. The sparse nature of the tent gave him the space that he needed. So much happened in a short amount of time that he hadn’t allowed his mind to process everything.

He thought back to the night with the two teenagers he saw. They argued with each other over something that he didn’t understand. ‘What was the argument about? Was it a disagreement over their plan?’ Their foreign language made him originally believe them to be young scientists. ‘Yet the strength and reflexes the one had seems too coincidental. It makes more sense to be exiles and not rebels. They would have training, but exiles shouldn’t be able to return. The mark should prevent them… Does it not work?’ Considering that their exiling mark failed made him swallow painfully. He decided to reserve that possibility last as he deemed the consequences far too dangerous.

‘Unmarked exiles would be more likely. I can’t assume our system has failed.’ The new line of thought spun him in several directions to explain the intruders. ‘They could be dissidents from within helping outsiders…’ He couldn’t ignore the fact that signals from the barrier reported an intrusion. ‘From Kalliope and Philon’s reports the ones they faced definitely had Meso Prosecho abilities. No matter how I turn the situation, those are the facts. I have theories, but nothing solid.’

He still had too many questions to feel confident to attack them in earnest. Failure wasn’t an option for him. ‘I don’t know if we were fortunate or purposely spared. Or did they not consider us a threat worth killing? I must understand the way they think…’

Simonides stared at the exit of the tent. A degree of certainty appeared in his eyes knowing his next move. The Atlantean Captain marched out of the tent giving a glancing nod to the White standing guard. He passed between gaps made from his men setting out small camps waiting on orders. In the distance, he found the man that he sought. Closing to meet with him, Simonides came up behind him as the man finished giving out an order to a soldier. “Commander Abeiron!”

The young man in his late twenties turned around immediately recognizing his Captain’s voice. A bit of a stiff step caught him at the end of his foot rotating around. “Captain! Do you need something?”

“Yes, Abeiron,” Simonides said, pacing out his words still finishing his thoughts. “Gather up your team. We’re moving out.”

“Sir?” Abeiron gave him a confused look more on the part that he spoke as though the Captain was going with him. “You’re coming with me, sir? What about the men? Who would keep command?”

The Captain scanned his head about the camp. They were his men and he had trained most of them since coming under his command. He trusted them. “The men will be fine. I have someone I can leave in charge. It’s more important that I see our foe fight. I must understand them to plan for the final offensive when the troops have finished gathering here.”

Some hesitation built in Abeiron hearing the way his Captain spoke to him. Abeiron never knew him to casually toss his men into certain danger. The fear ran away from him for a few moments before he managed to wrestle it under control. ‘The way he speaks sounds like he’s got some plan in mind.’ A curious expression came upon him staring at Simonides.

Picking up on the Commander’s stare, Simonides focused directly on him. “I’ve got a feeling about our enemy. I think I have a way to capture them, but I need your help. You with me?”

“Of course, sir!”

From the small communications room in the Military Command Center, Demosthenes stood up ignoring the communication disc fading out. He released his Field, disconnecting the line, before stepping out into the hall. A raised hand to the communication officer at the door signaled him to return back into the room and his post.

The large stone halls of Command remained as imposing as they were artistic. It almost seemed proud the way the stone stood showing off its detailed carved curves and lines. Each curve worked extra to strut and cast the most delicate shadow possible to accentuate the others form. Age only improved its appearance, much like the man that walked its hall.

Demosthenes broke his brisk pace as the hall opened into a balcony running along the hallway. Opposite to him, a middle aged man in his late thirties surfaced from shadows. The narrow steady eyes of the man said he had business with Demosthenes. His eyes fixed him with a deep stare that worked on most individuals to instill unease and a sense of inferiority within the man’s presence. Such tactics failed to work against Demosthenes, as the man knew, but in a lifestyle such as his it became a habit.

Taking up a post against the railing of the balcony, Demosthenes held to a stoic expression cutting off any chance to read him. “Good morning, Dimitris.”

“Demosthenes,” he replied curtly, “Have you made your decision?”

“My answer is the same as it was yesterday.”

A puff of annoyed air came from Dimitris’ lips reacting to the answer. Frustration from continually failing started to weigh on his reason. “You’re stalling is going to cost the kingdom gravely. Are you prepared for that on your shoulders?”

Threatening did as much as speaking rudely to him. Demosthenes brushed it off, maintaining his unwavering tone. “We still have ten days left. It is Atlantean law.”

“Still hung up on tradition. The King has no heirs and everyone knows it. There’s no need to carry on tradition when there’s no one to take up the Kingship.”

“In ten days. Only then can we begin the Rite of Succession. You know as well as I that Atlantis isn’t so weak to collapse without a King after a month.”

“Stubborn fool,” snapped Dimitris.

Demosthenes tilted his head over to the council member. “My stance will remain unchanged.”

Tired and frustrated with the futility of debating with Demosthenes, Dimitris turned on his heel starting to leave. While still barely in ear shot of Demosthenes he let out a final insult. “I wonder if you’re really human in the cold heart of yours.”

Focusing back on the morning horizon, Demosthenes spoke long after Dimitris left the hall. “More human than you…” He stared out at the vast green plains that stretched out over the lands of Atlantis. His eyes seemed fixed on something in the distance unseen, yet knowing with certainty that something was out there. ‘So you’ve returned Eudokia and with the child. Show me your strength… Show me that you’re worthy to be King…’