

LORDS OF KOBOL

PRELUDE: OF GODS AND TITANS

By Edward T. Yeatts III

Published by Edward T. Yeatts III at Smashwords. Copyright 2015 Edward T. Yeatts III.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Visit ety3rd.com for more books and information.

Other books by Edward T. Yeatts III:

Lords of Kobol – Book One: Apotheosis

Lords of Kobol – Book Two: Descent

Lords of Kobol – Book Three: The Final Exodus

Displaced

Diary of a Second Life

8 Days

The Art of Death

Sexcalation

The Red Kick

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Blog: ety3rd.blogspot.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

AUTHOR'S NOTE

PREFACE

MAPS

I – CAESAR

II – BARAZ

III – AHLJAELA

IV – DONOVAN

V – THE MESSENGERS

VI – BARAZ

VII – CAESAR

VIII – AHLJAELA

IX – THE MESSENGERS

X – DONOVAN

XI – BARAZ

XII – CAESAR

XIII – THE MESSENGERS

XIV – VITELUS

XV – AHLJAELA

XVI – BARAZ

XVII – CAESAR

XVIII – THE MESSENGERS

XIX – OURANOS

XX – CAESAR

XXI – AHLJAELA

XXII – CRONUS

XXIII – DONOVAN

XXIV – CAESAR

XXV – THE MESSENGERS

XXVI – GAIA

XXVII – OURANOS

XXVIII – BARAZ

XXIX – DONOVAN

XXX – AHLJAELA

XXXI – OURANOS

XXXII – GAIA

XXXIII – CAESAR

XXXIV – CRONUS

XXXV – BARAZ

XXXVI – THE MESSENGERS

XXXVII – AHLJAELA

XXXVIII – CAESAR

XXXIX – CRONUS

XL – OURANOS

XLI – CAESAR

XLII – THE MESSENGERS

XLIII – CRONUS

XLIV – AHLJAELA

XLV – BARAZ

XLVI – CRONUS

XLVII – ZEUS

XLVIII – CAESAR

XLIX – BARAZ

L – THE MESSENGERS

LI – TITANS

LII – AHLJAELA

LIII – OURANOS

LIV – ZEUS

LV – AHLJAELA

LVI – CYCLOPS

LVII – CAESAR

LVIII – CRONUS

LIX – ZEUS

LX – CYCLOPS

LXI – CAESAR

LXII – THE MESSENGERS

LXIII – CRONUS

LXIV – ZEUS

LXV – CAESAR

LXVI – THE MESSENGERS

LXVII – ZEUS

LXVIII – CRONUS

LXIX – CAESAR

LXX – HEPHAESTUS

LXXI – THE MESSENGERS

LXXII – CRONUS

LXXIII – HERA

LXXIV – CAESAR

LXXV – POSEIDON

LXXVI – ZEUS

LXXVII – PSILONS

LXXVIII – CYLONS

LXXIX – LETO

LXXX – CAESAR

LXXXI – ZEUS

LXXXII – THE MESSENGERS

LXXXIII – GAIA

LXXXIV – CAESAR

LXXXV – AHLJAELA

LXXXVI – ARES

LXXXVII – CRONUS

LXXXVIII – CAESAR

LXXXIX – POSEIDON

XC – PROMETHEUS

XCI – THE MESSENGERS

XCII – ZEUS

XCIII – PROMETHEUS

XCIV – CAESAR

XCV – MNEMOSYNE

XCVI – TITANS

XCVII – THE MESSENGERS

XCVIII – LETO

XCIX – CAESAR

C – CYLONS

CI – PSILONS

CII – AHLJAELA

CIII – CAESAR

CIV – ZEUS

CV – THE MESSENGERS

COMING SOON

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & CONTACTS

OTHER BOOKS BY EDWARD T. YEATTS III:
**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

If you have not yet read _Lords of Kobol – Book One_ , _Two_ and _Three_ , I **strongly** urge you to stop now and go download them. Like this novel, they are free.

You may do so HERE.

Although _Prelude_ is a prequel, it is not intended to be read before the trilogy. It will draw upon characters and situations familiar to those who have read the previous books.

Thank you.

**PREFACE: REGARDING THE TIMELINE...**

To alleviate confusion, let us walk back through time to pinpoint the major events in Colonial, Kobollian and Larsan history.

Four years after the Colonies' destruction - A planet inhabited by prehistoric humans is named "Earth" and settled by the survivors of the _Battlestar Galactica_ , the rebel Cylon Basestar, and the ragtag fleet.

The Destruction of the Twelve Colonies - Occurs after a peace of about forty years.

Fifty-two years before the Colonies' destruction - The revolution of the Colonies' mechanical servants begins and lasts for twelve years.

About two thousand years before the Colonies' destruction - On Kobol, Cylons revolt, gods war among themselves and humans flee for what will become the Twelve Colonies.

About seven thousand, six hundred years before the Colonies' destruction - The Lords of Kobol descend Mount Olympus to assume godhood over humanity.

About twelve thousand, one hundred years before the Colonies' destruction - Zeus and his followers flee Larsa as the final Cylon attack ravages the planet. _This is the key chronological point alluded to at the heading of each chapter_

About twelve thousand, two hundred-fifty years before the Colonies' destruction - Humanity is splintered and the Titans are born ...

I

**CAESAR**

162 Years Before the End

The noise was deafening.

He had only been awake for a few hours, yet he couldn't shut out the noise. He finally regained his vision but the sounds were painful and distracting.

"Claude?" he said. He wasn't sure if he actually spoke, so he said it again, louder, "Claude?!"

He heard footsteps. Over the din in his mind, he heard the man running. The door opened. As with each sound that was made, now that Caesar looked, he saw every detail of every move Claude made.

"Yes, my lord?" He started to speak before the door was even open fully. He stepped two paces into the room. His hands were clasped above his belt. The finely attired young man's fingers were twitching. Rubbing over each other. Caesar heard his skin scrape. A raw, rough noise that echoed in the room and shook the static that racked his ears.

"Must you do that?" Caesar asked.

"I'm sorry, dominus." Claude's eyes darted around. He didn't seem to know where to look.

_Damn it_ , Caesar thought. He could hear the wet click of the boy's eyeballs as they moved in their sockets.

"Never mind," Caesar said. He tried again to close his ears. The sound lessened a bit. "When will the doctor return?"

The attendant lowered his head. "Another hour or so, lord. He said he would at dawn."

Caesar believed he sighed first and then said, "Bring him now."

"Of course, lord." Claude bowed and began to back through the door. He closed it slowly and carefully, but the snapping of the mechanism and the pressing of wood upon wood reverberated in his leader's mind.

Caesar tried again to shut his senses. The noise dwindled. The sights slowed. Finally, after hours of pain, he had achieved some measure of peace. He didn't want to think about anything. He simply wanted to enjoy the moment.

Step, step, step...

His senses returned and a cacophony of chatter, clanking and footfalls broke through his concentration. He looked and saw natural light had returned. It was almost dawn. He had rested for more than an hour.

"My lord," Claude said as he entered the room, "Doctors Aelianus and Donovan."

A man and woman, dressed in their typical neck-to-toe blue smocks, walked into the room gingerly. Two Praetorian Guards entered as well. They swept to either side of the door and their rifles thunked against the plastic armor by their shoulders when they saluted.

The doctors circled Caesar and looked at him slowly. The guards stood at attention but they were distracted. Like Claude earlier, they didn't seem to be able to concentrate. Their eyes noisily moved around the room. They couldn't focus on any one thing for longer than a few moments.

Caesar tired of their shifting and he ordered, "Leave us."

One guard looked to the other and spoke, "Lord, are you certain?"

"Go."

They snapped to attention, their armor clinking again, and saluted with their fists above their hearts. They turned, opened the door and left. Caesar heard them stop just outside.

"Imperator," Donovan began, quietly, "how are you feeling?"

"The noise is unbearable. I hear everything. Footsteps floors away, a guard cracking his knuckles in another room, your quickened heartbeat, Doctor Aelianus."

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"Don't apologize," Caesar said. "Fix it."

Donovan spoke, "We will do all we can." He pulled a small device from his smock and held it against the leader's side. "Your sight?"

"It is equally sensitive yet I am able to control it more easily."

"Good." Donovan walked a bit more. "Your sense of smell?"

Caesar had to think. What was the last thing he smelled? The incense being burned in his room... but that was days ago. "I don't believe it's working."

"We'll look at it."

Aelianus held her hands behind her back, "How are you feeling?"

The leader felt a rush of anger. "Have I not been speaking to that?"

She got nervous and nearly took a step back. "Yes, but, I mean, how do you feel? Your emotions, the ease of your thoughts..."

Caesar understood. "Of course. Apologies, doctor." She nodded. "The haze I felt for so long has been lifted. There is no obstacle between the desire for a memory and its recall."

"Very good."

"Emotionally," he began, "I am, obviously, still sensitive. I feel prone to anger. That has not been my way."

"Of course not, lord," Donovan said.

Caesar's attention turned toward him. Anger flashed again. _Sarcasm?_ He told himself to relax. "I do feel anxious, though."

"You feel energetic?"

"Yes," Caesar said. "For the first time in years."

Aelianus said, "That is very good."

"Let us discuss my mobility."

Donovan glanced at his colleague and then he looked at his device again, "We have gone over that before, imperator. It may be some time."

Caesar shut down his senses to contain his surging emotions. "I cannot wait months and years for you to pray on bended knee for miracles that may never arrive."

"I understand..."

"I feel trapped in this room already," Caesar continued. "I've only been conscious for six hours yet I feel caged."

"Understandable," Aelianus said.

"Then help me."

Donovan inhaled deeply and slowly. "What you ask is possible, but difficult. We don't have the means..."

"Find the means."

Donovan lowered his hands and stepped back. "The finest minds in Tiberia are working on this, lord."

"Insufficient!" The doctors cowered at the Caesar's volume. "Narrow-minded fools such as you have failed me before. Not now!" They flinched and winced at the sharp sound. "I will scour Larsa for the solution, if I must."

The doctors bowed before the large, gray and black box that housed the emperor's mind. Slowly, they approached again and took readings on the unit. Lights flashed as Caesar thought. Judging by their rapidity, he was thinking quite a bit.
II

**BARAZ**

162 Years Before the End

Karin Baraz sat in the lobby. Her legs were crossed and her wrist dangled over the edge of her briefcase. Her long finger flicked at the clasp every ten seconds. She was precise about that. She counted it in her head.

A man walked past and she watched him go. She didn't recognize him. She didn't lose count, though. Baraz flicked the clasp again, right on time.

"Lunch is still on schedule, yes?" her assistant asked. "Minister Osporion's secretary just messaged me."

Karin didn't lose count. She nodded.

Mione kept speaking. "I'll let him know." She tapped on her wristband a few times and it beeped. "There's a storm in Helicon so our flight has been pushed back by an hour."

"It's a private plane."

Mione tilted her head back and forth. "Aeroport restrictions in effect."

A young man peered around a corner and said, "Karin Baraz?" She stood quickly and he continued, "The prime minister will see you now."

"Thank you." Baraz walked away from her seat and Mione hissed through her teeth. When Karin looked back, the assistant was pointing to the briefcase. She said, "Keep it."

The young man led her down a hallway. Offices on either side bustled with beeps and discussion. When they approached the large wooden door, Baraz pulled down on the front of her jacket to straighten it out and briefly patted the sides of her tightly bound brown hair.

The assistant knocked twice, waited a moment and then opened the door. He immediately stepped to the side and announced, "Minister. Karin Baraz of BBM."

Behind the desk, a somewhat lanky man stood. He was gray but his skin didn't seem to betray an age. Karin knew from public records that Will Saeros was nearly sixty.

"My dear Miss Baraz. A pleasure to meet you at last." He shook her hand vigorously and nodded toward the door. The younger man left and pulled it shut behind him.

"A pleasure to meet you as well, sir." Karin smiled. It was a smile she practiced. Enough to seem genuinely pleased but not enough to appear overly eager.

"Please, sit." Karin took a step back and sat in one of the two leather chairs before the large desk. Saeros didn't return to his place behind the desk. He sat in the other chair. "I was sorry to hear about your father."

Baraz lowered her head for a moment and nodded slowly. She lifted her right hand and cupped her left bicep for three seconds before returning it to her lap. "He was a good man."

Saeros leaned over and said, "And you are a young woman." Her eyebrow lifted and he continued. "Thrust into a big chair so soon."

Responses pelted her mind. Responses to those responses followed. When she spoke, she had decided to go with a more amiable answer but not one without teeth. "I fit the chair well."

The prime minister grinned and said, "Obviously your board agrees. They like you." She nodded. "I have no reason to disagree."

One side of Karin's mouth turned upward. "Good."

Saeros laughed and said. "Well. Tell me what brings you to Tritaea."

She knew that he knew. It was part of the dance. One that her father told her about many times.

"Matters of healthcare and well being." He nodded and she continued. "In recent years, we've noted that the Ministry of Health is taking far longer than usual to approve our requests for trial reviews. We have made substantial investments in..."

"The delays are for safety reasons," Saeros interrupted. "We have to insure that the proper trials were conducted and that the reviews are both unbiased and thorough."

"The procedures I'm speaking of are not ones of vanity. These are medications and devices and techniques that can save or improve many thousands of lives."

"At a great profit to Baraz Bio Medical." Karin's eyes steadied on Saeros' face. He no longer seemed genial. "With each medication you release, your bottom lines increase..."

"And do you know when the last new medication by BBM was approved?" The PM seemed surprised at having been interrupted. "Two years ago. It had been in development for eleven years and was cleared by reviews and trials four years before approval."

"And how much money has BBM reaped with it?"

Baraz tilted her head to one side and said, "I was not aware that corporations had been outlawed." Saeros chuckled. "Or that profits were made illegal."

"They are not, my dear." He straightened his collar and said, "History is full of examples of companies that... take advantage. Our job is to slow everything down. We need to make sure what you're offering is safe and worthy of the marketplace."

"Regarding the latter," she began, "isn't that for the marketplace to decide?"

"You may know medicine," Saeros said, softly, "you may even know business, but you don't know government and you don't know history."

Baraz straightened her jacket again. "I know enough."

"Really?"

"I know," Karin hesitated for the slightest moment, "that on the desk of the health minister, there lies the means for the rejuvenation of bone marrow."

Saeros blinked.

Baraz studied the man's face but he didn't reveal any emotion. He took in a deep breath and looked toward the floor. He breathed quietly and Karin replayed her words in her head. She thought of other answers and other questions. She decided on this one, however. She had to play it out.

"How long has it been ready for use?"

"Two years."

The PM was still. Then, he nodded slowly. He cleared his throat and nodded again. Saeros looked at Baraz but there was something new in his gaze. Respect.

"Very shrewd," he said.

She didn't respond.

"I appreciate the effort but our procedures will remain in place."

"While Huban and Nandia surpass us on so many fronts? Not just medicine, but electronics and..."

"We are finished." Saeros stood and returned to his desk. Karin was slow to stand, but when she did, she looked up and saw his outstretched hand. "I will be interested to see what you do in the future."

Baraz shook his hand quickly and left. The assistant from before guided her down the hallway and into the waiting area where Mione still sat.

Karin nodded toward the exit and the woman followed. They rode in the lift silently and emerged in the lobby shortly thereafter. Mione tapped on her wristband furiously as they walked. The pair dodged the crowds and emerged on the street moments later.

A long, luxury car pulled up by the sidewalk and Mione opened the door for her boss. Baraz got in and then Mione sat on the long seat beside her.

"Still going to lunch?"

Karin was quiet. She looked up and saw the assistant trying not to be nervous. She saw the driver looking back at them. "Yes. Let's go." The driver nodded and the car quietly moved into traffic.

Baraz turned to the right and watched the Forum recede. She took in a deep breath and said, "My great-grandfather was a doctor in Ordoga."

Mione glanced up and then back at her wrist. She had heard this before.

"He came to Attica for freedom and prosperity. They didn't recognize his license to practice medicine so he started over again. Then he started BBM. My grandfather took over the business, and then my father..."

Mione interrupted, "Didn't go well?"

Karin's nostrils flared as she inhaled. "I ended up... 'dancing dirty.'"

"Oh." Mione stopped what she was doing. She used to hear about "the dance" from Karin's father. "You brought up his wife?"

"Indirectly."

"It didn't work?"

Baraz looked out the window as they passed a statue of Cronus, complete with sickle and lightning bolt, juxtaposed against the front of a Median church. Once in the intersection, tall office buildings and monuments stretched toward the crest of a hill.

She decided not to answer.
III

**AHLJAELA**

162 Years Before the End

Mar Ahljaela stood in line behind dozens of others. He wiped his bronze-colored nose and pretended to not be bothered by the smell. It was sharp. Almost metallic. Once the initial blast of old perspiration subsided, the underlying filth odor crept in. It may not have been as bad as an open sewer, but it was still bad. Like a stagnant drainage pond that's home to migratory birds, Mar decided a few years back. He had passed one on his way home then and was immediately surprised by the similarity.

After a week of sleeping at the factory, everyone stunk.

It was the last day of his work cycle, though. He had two days off coming to him. He would get paid and then walk the twenty kilometers out of Gargamus to his little village. It would be late when he arrived. His wife might be the only one awake then. He smiled at the thought.

"Name?" the man behind the desk asked.

This man had seen him once a week for nearly ten years. Still, he asked for his name. "Ahljaela. Mar Dohl Ahljaela." The man scanned the paper, drew his finger under the name and then reached under the desk. When he handed over the small bindle of money, Mar said, "Thank you."

He walked from the office and into the courtyard of Siler River Plastics where hundreds of other workers on Mar's cycle had gathered. Some were smoking, others were talking. Ahljaela walked past them all toward the street. He stopped at a bush, though, and bent down. He unfolded the currency and began to count it. Twenty-two denars. Five years ago, he had been promised a raise. It never showed up, of course. He separated the bills into three groups. He stuffed one into his pocket and then stepped out of his worn shoes. He pushed bills toward the toes in both, put his feet back in and started walking.

As soon as his foot hit the sidewalk, he sighed and turned right. It was a straight road, but it was long. Barely a block away, he heard the engine of an old bus rumble to life and depart from the factory's courtyard. He watched it pass and waved to the people he knew on board. He used to take the bus out of the city. It saved him five hours of walking but it cost two whole denars for the trip.

"Mar."

His head whipped to the right and he saw his co-worker, Rand. "Hello."

"Walking again, I see."

He only nodded.

"I'm going to stop for a lunch. Did you want to join me?"

Ahljaela inhaled and shook his head. "No, sorry."

"I understand." Rand looked across the street to a restaurant. "Did you hear about Thun?"

Mar stopped walking and squinted in the sunlight. "I saw him today on the line. He left yesterday, right?"

"He did," Rand stepped closer and continued, "but he got robbed on his way home. Took everything he just got paid."

"Damn." Mar knew what that was like. "He didn't hide his money?"

Rand shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't talk too much about it."

"I'm sure." He took another step and asked, "So he just went back to work? Didn't go home?"

"Yes."

"They let him change cycles like that?"

Rand laughed. "I guess so. So many robberies lately... Bo said that it was the least the company could do since they wouldn't give him his pay again."

"Right."

Rand stepped onto the street and waved behind him, "See you."

"Bye."

Ahljaela walked. He passed by restaurants and bars. There were magistrate buildings, a police station, a recruitment center. A fountain marked the edge of the city and he left the path for a moment to dowse his head in the spray. The day was sunny with no breeze. With more than seventeen kilometers to go, he needed the respite. He dipped his old plastic bottle into the water, closed it and returned to the path. If he lingered too long, the police might chase him away again.

The sidewalk turned to dirt and the asphalt of the highway lost its painted stripes. Trucks veered from one side to another. Cars whipped past him at more than one hundred kilometers an hour. On the main straightaway, he left the path and waded through the tall grass. For nearly an hour he walked like that, swatting away large flies and flicking beetles from his canvas trousers. Better this than the alternative.

He saw it two years ago. Crisus was his name. He was half a kilometer ahead of Mar. They didn't know each other that well so they didn't bother to walk together. On this section of the road, a truck moved from its lane and drove into the dirt walking path right in front of Mar. The truck never left the path until it hit Crisus. He was far away but Ahljaela saw the man's body flung into the air. The truck stopped for just a moment but then drove off. Mar ran and ran but when he reached his co-worker, it was already too late. He stood and walked into the road, waving and screaming for someone to stop. Three trucks and five cars swerved and honked around him. Finally, one man stopped and placed a call to the police on his wristband. He drove away, leaving Mar to wait with the body for an hour before anyone arrived.

This was the spot.

He paused and looked into the grass. Nothing remained, of course, but he could still see the blood in his mind. The man's face was swollen and streams of red left both eyes, his ears, his mouth, his nose. His clothes were torn. One shoe was still on the walking path. There was the smell of feces, too.

He swatted a large dragonfly and moved on. The road began to crest and the curves returned. He stepped back to the path and breathed a little easier as he walked. He played his usual games. Counting certain colored vehicles. Spotting shapes in the clouds. Thinking about what he would do with his time off.

Mar came to the large tree that marked the halfway point. He left the path and crossed toward it, stepping over fallen branches and high weeds. He patted the trunk and walked around to the rear, sliding a little down the embankment toward the creek. He dipped a hand in the water, sniffed it and sipped. Ahljaela reached into his small pack and removed a cloth napkin. Inside were three wheatballs. Like hardened oatmeal, Mar took scoops of the food from his breakfast this morning, balled them up and squeezed them to express any water. He hid them in his pack in his room. Even though he shared space with twelve people, he knew no one would look in his things on the last day of the cycle. Still, if he had been caught, he could be fired.

He pounded the wheatball with his fist and it cracked into three pieces. He scooped water from the creek, popped a piece in his mouth and then chased it with the water. He let it sit for a moment to loosen the paste up. He swallowed and closed his eyes. Mar reached behind him and removed the now-empty plastic bottle and filled it again in the creek. He put another shard of the wheatball in his mouth and sipped from the bottle as he climbed the hill and sat against the base of the tree. He rested for only ten minutes. Sipping and eating. Then he walked again.

The sun set and he saw the hills in the last orange light of the day. The green expanse of fields receded to gray but he kept walking straight. A few minutes later, lights popped on in the homes ahead. He smelled the field of cabbage to his right. The thick scent of chlorophyll and damp soil. It must have rained here earlier. On the left side of the road, the fumarella plants smelled the same. There was a slight spice to it, though, carried across the street on the breeze of the now-infrequent passing vehicles.

The moon was barely half full. Its light wasn't much, but it helped keep him on the dirt path. His white and beige clothes made him visible to that occasional car. He passed three houses and their fields. Then the fourth. The fifth was his.

Mar's hand touched the wood of the fence and gate and he sighed again. He pushed it open and closed it quickly, latching it. He walked down the small slope between the sections of wheat and up the hill toward the house. The only light on was the porch lamp, so he knew he was too late to see his sons. He set the pack on the step, knocked on the wood and walked to his right. He passed a goat and shuffled through the thick green grass before it tumbled down toward the stream. He groaned and let his pack drop. Then he slipped out of his shirt and pants. As he kicked his shoes off, he heard his wife coming.

"Hello," Laphé said.

"Hello." Now nude, he turned toward her and kissed her on the mouth.

She pulled her head back quickly and said, "Yes. Please, get in the water." He laughed and put his foot in. He gasped and she tossed the bar of soap to him. It was waist deep and he crouched down to wash a week's worth of filth from him.

"How is everyone?"

"The boys are good," she said. Laphé sat on the hillside and kept speaking, "Father is the same."

"Of course."

"The indoor pump broke again."

"Again?" Mar splashed water onto his head and shivered. "Is it fixed now?"

"Yes. I traded with Stam over the hill. She wanted a barrel of milk to do it."

"All at once?"

Laphé laughed. "No. Of course not. She's gotten about a quarter of it so far." She paused. "I hope that was the right thing."

Mar shook his head in the near darkness. He looked to his wife and saw her silhouetted against the orange-yellow porchlight. "Your decisions don't need my approval. You run the house." She nodded and he left the stream. He took the towel from her and said, "The walk home was uneventful."

She leaned over toward his clothes and reached into the shoes and pockets, pulling together the bills. She held them up to the light and squinted to see the color of the Caesar's faces. "Twenty-two."

"Yes." Mar pulled on his pants and said, "Any unexpected expenses this week?"

"Rovil's birthday."

He playfully smacked his head. "Of course. He wanted that toy plane? That's just one denar." She nodded and hugged him. "Still leaves two for the jar."

Laphé smiled and kissed her husband. "Siler River's the best thing that's ever happened to us."
IV

**DONOVAN**

162 Years Before the End

"Your attention, please," an unseen announcer said over the image of the emperor's seal, a stylized golden eagle whose wings encircled a mask painted blood red over a purple fluttering flag. "Lord Imperator, Princeps Senatus, Caesar Maxentius the Ninth."

The seal dissolved and the elderly visage of the Caesar appeared. He was seated behind his desk in the palace and the sun shone through the window behind him, illuminating his thin, silver hair. He was wearing his usual dark gray military tunic with the gold and jeweled necklace that draped under his plum-colored epaulets and over his shoulders.

"Greetings, Tiberia," he said. With a slight grin, he continued, "I speak to you today regarding a great opportunity, not only for the citizens of our nation, but for all of Larsa." He looked down at his papers and lifted them somewhat while lowering his face. "As you well know, science has afforded us many luxuries and improved all our lives. I have spoken to our science consul and our health consul and I know there are still a great many things we can accomplish."

"Remarkable," Dr. Ryall Donovan said. He was staring intently at the monitor hanging in the hallway. The Caesar's face was still partially obscured and he kept speaking.

"I have established a program to begin research into a life extension project. For this, we will need the help of the greatest minds the world has to offer. Whether by medication or cloning, robotics or gene manipulation, I know an answer is out there. The person who divines the proper path will secure for themselves, not only a vaunted place in Tiberia, but an equally important place in history. The lives of many millions will be bettered, and none more than yours, brilliant scientist or gifted doctor."

He lowered the paper and looked toward the camera, grinned again and said, "Certainly there are governments that may not agree with me and my aims, but I assure you... this is for more than Tiberia's sake." He looked down again, the paper covering the lower half of his face.

"The details you require can be found through the science and health consulates. If you are prevented from this research by your government's antiquated rules and regulations, you will be welcomed to Tiberia. If you would seek entrance to our nation, simply contact the nearest Tiberian embassy and it may be arranged."

He dropped the paper to the desk and lifted his head. The Caesar straightened and put his right hand on the surface. "Today begins a new era. Good fortune to us all." He balled up his pale, arthritic fist and pressed it against his left breast. "Long live the Empire."

The image dissolved back to the fluttering flag and then the news anchors began to speak. Donovan reached over and turned it off before walking away.

"He's expecting me," he said to the guards outside the chamber.

"Yes, sir." They stepped aside and the double doors opened. Donovan entered two paces and bowed, waiting for Caesar's welcome.

"Your thoughts?"

The doctor raised his head and slowly advanced. He hadn't been given the usual formal invitation but he proceeded. "Very convincing, imperator."

"I believe so, as well." The sound came from all over the room, but Donovan kept his attention focused on the large cube in the center. Lights flickered along its surface as its processors worked and the disembodied Caesar spoke again, "I spent a few days recording bits and pieces of video last year. I provided the new audio just yesterday."

Donovan nodded. Caesar said nothing. The doctor lightly cleared his throat and said, "What manner of response do you anticipate?"

"I have scoured the Matrix for businesses, institutes, and individuals who have made strides in this direction. I have identified three dozen who have great potential."

The doctor licked his lips and said, "Imperator, what if cooperation is required?"

"Elaborate."

"Myself, for example." He folded his hands behind his back and continued, "I am well versed in neurology and developed the memory transfer techniques. But I know nothing of cloning or robotics. My computer skills are... excellent, if I may be immodest..."

"You may," Caesar interrupted.

"But that is not my primary field. For you to become mobile, minituarization of that technology will be required. This is not something that I am able to do presently. I know few in Tiberia who can."

"And you believe multiple people, working in concert, will be necessary."

Donovan tilted his head down. "I do, lord."

Caesar paused and then said, "Perhaps. I will monitor all responses to my message and determine what course of action will be required."

"I may be in error," the doctor said. "Someone may develop an answer on their own." His clasped hands rubbed within each other and he spoke again, "However, I do not believe an organic solution will be found. Our understanding of genetics has not progressed far enough to allow for a true clone of your former self. Or even the implantation of your mind upon another's."

"Given your apprehension," Caesar said, "are you now rescinding your role as leader of the program?"

Donovan nearly scoffed. A flush of fear raced through him as he stopped himself and he quickly spoke, stammering, "Absolutely not, imperator. I was merely providing counsel."

"Of course."

Donovan stared at the cube a while longer and watched the indicators. They weren't illuminating rapidly as they so often did when the leader was in deep thought. He wondered if he should return to the door.

"Doctor," Caesar said, "I expect you to evaluate each possibility on its own merits. However a solution presents itself, I want you to put aside your prejudices."

"Of course, lord. The thought had not entered my mind." It truly hadn't.

Caesar paused and then said, softly, "And each possibility must be fully tested and vetted."

"Absolutely, imperator."

The emperor's famous paranoia persisted even in his present form. Donovan quickly remembered conversations tinged with fear and anger. A frail, old man pointing a crooked finger in the doctor's face, warning of severe retribution should his mind be pulled from his body and dispatched into the ether. Killed in the most sophisticated and technologically advanced manner possible.

_That_ thought had entered his mind.
V

**THE MESSENGERS**

162 Years Before the End

The One peered into the tiny universe.

Specks of rock revolved around balls of gas. Its eye scanned millions of them. Billions.

There were points of interest, to be sure, but nothing that grabbed its attention. It hovered over no one world for longer than a microsecond. Then it saw something.

Like lying on the ground at the base of a tree, it looked up. From this one speck, branches stretched forward through time. It had found its goal.

The One looked along the trunk and each of the branches. Decisions were going to be made and reactions to those decisions would follow. A myriad of possibilities lie ahead for this one world. Nearly infinite, the will of life on this speck would shape so much.

It was excited. The limbs kept stretching and growing forward. Flowers grew at each turn and the paths were lined with leaves. Then it noticed that some branches came to tapered ends. The tips wept with sickness. Still, other limbs grew forward, so The One kept looking along its length. Then more branches ended. Thick, fiery tumors hung on the boughs and they grew no more. From the top of this world's tree where no vines reached, it looked back toward the beginning, dismayed that the branches would go no further.

The One scanned over them again and looked worriedly across the remainder of this collection of stones and stars. It saw no other trees. There were many "bushes," sure, as lesser life made their minor decisions to eat that thing or drink that water. But there were no leaps. With sentient life come great bounds in thinking and greater choices become available. The trees flourished. The will of living, thoughtful beings watered them. Without trees here, The One saw no purpose in remaining in this galaxy.

As it was about to withdraw, a thought occurred to it. It could intervene.

The One turned its head from the rock of interest and found another like it. It had a spindly collection of branches wreathing it and stretching forward in time. The wispy limbs of lesser animals. It would have no higher beings and therefore no tree growing thick through the ages. With a swift pinch, it grabbed seeds from the base of the large but stunted tree and deposited them on the other world. Immediately, a great trunk extended from the speck and shot into the future. Branches diverged and limbs reached out and into the darkness. Flowers blossomed and leaves unfurled.

The One was pleased.

Though the second tree was planted for insurance, it did notice that this new sapling was going to be deformed. It, too, had terminating branches in its future.

The One reached out of the universe and into another. There, it had groomed other trees and two tenders had helped them grow through harsh winters and long droughts.

With whispered instructions, The One set these beings on the first world it had found. Hopefully, this pair of workers could enable that tree to flourish.

They were without form and looking upon the plains of western Isinnia from a high peak. They were flooded with input. Sound, sight, scent... they reeled and basked all at once. Finally, one planted their feet on the rockface and gripped the side of a boulder.

"This... is different." It took the form of a man and spoke hesitatingly. He opened and closed his mouth, testing his jaw, and turned his head to look toward the lights of a nearby city. "There is something fragile about this life."

The other collapsed on the slope and turned toward the companion. It was like unto a woman and she gasped for air. "I do not understand."

"Slow." He reached for her and she brushed him away. She stood and wobbled when she became erect.

"Fragile, yes," she said. She looked at her hands and said, "Not like the others."

He took in a deep breath through his nose, pursed his lips and expelled it. "But the tree..."

"Yes," she said. "I can see it."

The One visited countless universes, searching for the results of sentient life. Decisions upon decisions, branching through eons... The One harvested these "trees," in a way, and was sustained by them. When guidance for their growth was needed, it set these tenders upon those worlds that the plant born of free will may become stronger and longer lasting.

The Messenger released the branch and his body became like a wisp. Visible yet not present. He smiled and looked to his companion, "I understand the allure of this one."

She did not respond. She was staring at the civilization below and narrowing her eyes. "I see shadows."

"Of the past? I see them also."

"No. Of the future." She shook her head and continued, "They are... thin. I cannot focus on them."

He squinted and then said, "Yes. A limitation of this realm?"

She accepted that as true and said, "The will of these beings is even more important now. Their decisions may make the future more visible to us."

He turned his head from side to side, as though he were trying to make out some distant, wavering image. "I see a great fire, as well."

"The end of humanity," she whispered.

He paused and then said, "What is your plan?"

She looked at him and said, "The One's plan, as always. To ensure the survival of life so the tree may grow."

He nodded and allowed his body to drift down the mountainside toward the city. She did the same as he said, "It will be done."
VI

**BARAZ**

162 Years Before the End

She entered the lab and tugged at a corner of her paper mask. She was guided to a table by Dr. Hikka, but she didn't listen to what he said. She was still mapping out strategies and plans in her mind.

"Dr. Baraz, a pleasure to meet you," one of the lab workers said.

That took her by surprise. She looked up and caught his eye. "Thank you," she said. "And I you." Too often, people forgot she was a doctor of genetics. "What do you have here?"

He moved aside and motioned to the clear tray. In a shallow bath of various chemicals, a human kidney lay. "This was created for a patient in Gerzeh."

"Using some of her kidney as the template?"

"Yes."

"And where did the stem cells come from?"

"Her own cord blood. When she was born, her mother had it stored."

Baraz nodded. "Very fortunate."

"Dr. Baraz, this way, please," the guide said.

Karin nearly told him to stop. She wanted to ask more questions but there was too much to do. "Yes. Thank you."

"Thank you, Dr. Baraz." The man returned to his work.

They passed by several other people working with microscopes and vials. A few had trays of organs, prodding at them and testing them with meters.

"The board members are waiting for you through here. They wanted a brief tour, too." He pushed open a door and they entered a stark white clean room. They shed their outer cellulose garments and tossed them into an incinerator chute before washing their hands.

They exited into a hallway and passed multiple doors before reaching the conference room at the end. The guide stopped, clacked his heels together and bent slightly at the waist. "If there's anything else you require, please, summon me at once."

"I will. Thank you." The wiry man stalked off and Karin opened the door. Eight people were sitting aroung the table, chatting or reading. One man was nodding off.

"Finally," a woman said under her breath.

Karin shot her a look as she walked past. She stood at the head of the long table and put her case on the surface. "Is everyone ready?"

One man lifted his hand and said, "Why are we here? I don't mean the meeting but I mean here, in Doria, at one of our secondary labs."

Baraz inhaled deeply and looked at him directly, "I don't trust all of my people in Helicon."

The woman spoke again, "Paranoid?"

"For good reason." Karin opened her case and removed a stack of papers. "What I have in mind could be considered treason in Attica."

The board members glanced at each other before looking to their CEO. "And what do you have in mind, Ms. Baraz?"

She smiled and said, "This." She held up a printout of a news article. A picture of the Caesar was on one side and the headline read, "Tiberia Seeks Scientists for 'Life Extension Project.'"

"Oh," one board member said.

"Do you think there's anything to that?" another asked.

"I do."

Another said, "Didn't he just mean medicine or something?"

"I don't think so." Baraz organized her papers a bit more.

"If he needs new organs, we've got him covered." He turned to another member and said, "You see that shit out there?"

"That's nothing," the woman said. "Knowing Caesar, he's looking for... a fountain of youth."

"We've got medicine, too," another said, "but nothing like that."

"Not exactly," Karin said. "He didn't say it in his address, but I have reason to believe that he's looking for a way to... transfer his mind into a new body."

Half of the board members laughed.

"I'm not joking." Her steely expression calmed their chuckles and flattened their smiles. "This is Dr. Ryall Donovan." She held up a picture and continued, "He studied in Tylos before disappearing about five years ago. He turned up in Tiberia three years ago."

"What is he a doctor of?"

She put the picture down and pulled more paper from her briefcase. "Neurology. I found his doctoral work in Tylos. It's all about engrammatic replication."

The board was still. One man asked, "What?"

Karin finally looked up from her papers and said, "Memory replication. He studied how to copy minds."

"And he's working in Tiberia now."

"Yes." Baraz sat in the chair and put her case on the floor. "His work focused solely on duplicating minds into computers, though. Not into another brain."

Again, the board was quiet.

"I'll ask again," a member said, quietly. "What is your plan?"

"It is four fold. Please, hear me out on all points." She picked up four separate stacks of papers and laid them on the table top one at a time as she spoke, "One, we move our headquarters from Attica to Doria. Two, we expand our facilities here. Three, we pursue a genetic and organic answer to the Caesar's project. And four, we offer that answer to the world." She placed the last stack on top and straightened its corners.

They were all stunned. The chairman of the board shook his head and finally spoke, "One at a time. Moving the headquarters..."

"Yes."

"Why?"

She reached under the papers and removed the first stack. She took off the binder and handed it to her right. Each person took a copy of the motion and kept passing it while she spoke, "The tax rates are higher in Doria, yes. But the laws here are much more lax when it comes to scientific and medical research. We couldn't engage in parts three and four if the corporation was based in Helicon. If we move the headquarters, all of BBM's activities here are beyond Attican law."

"Right. Two, expanding these facilities."

Baraz took that stack and passed it out, as well. "We already own twenty hectares around this facility. Nearly all of it is currently undeveloped. With seventy million stater from the general fund, we can erect the corporate facilities to replace those in Attica, plus new laboratories and so on. Another twenty million to furnish the researchers, equipment..."

"What about the old headquarters in Helicon?" a woman asked.

"We can sell them. Ten million stater, estimated."

The chairman pointed to her papers. "Go ahead and pass them all out. Number three."

She handed the stacks over and said, "Obviously, our expertise is in organics. Tissue regeneration, genetics, medicine. That is where we should focus. We have excelled at the cloning of tissues and organs. You saw it in the lab. BBM is the only producer of custom organ replacements."

"But not entire people replacements."

"No," Baraz said. "Not yet."

"Whoa," someone said.

"Wait," the chairman said. "Are you talking about cloning the Caesar?"

Karin lifted a single eyebrow, "No. Not really. The same processes used in cloning would be needed to create a suitable body for a mind transfer. A suitable body for our needs isn't necessarily the same body they inhabited before."

"Why not clone the Caesar, Thad?" a woman asked.

"And give that bastard immortality? No, thank you."

Baraz nodded slightly. She had to agree. It was a possibility, though, that the Caesar would demand it if this all worked out. "It makes the most sense to clone our client. Not just for their sake, but ours. But there's no reason we can't limit them to just one... extra life."

The chairman muttered, "And no reason why they can't just keep doing it."

"I contacted the medical consulate in Tiberia for more information." She held up a thick packet of information. "There are... hundreds of requirements and restrictions. The end result, though, assuming success, is two billion denars."

"What?"

The chairman looked down and thought. "That's nearly three billion stater." Baraz nodded. He waved her on.

"Number four," Karin said. "Despite the restrictions in the program, there's nothing saying we can't offer this to others."

Several around the table straightened up and the one named Thad inhaled deeply. "That would be expensive."

Baraz said, "Yes. Luckily for us, there are many, many wealthy people in the world." There were nods of approval. Karin glanced around and tried to keep herself from smiling.

BBM had ten board members altogether. She invited the eight most likely to be swayed to her side. Only six needed to agree.

Her victory was assured.
VII

**CAESAR**

161 Years Before the End

He heard them arguing in the corridor at the far end of the wing. His tribune, commander of the Praetorians, Cato Yale, and the high legate of the Tiberian military, Senator Toma Marcus.

"I don't understand the precautions, tribune. That is all I'm saying."

"I know, high legate," Yale said. "These are the emperor's commands. You alone. And you will not directly discuss this meeting with anyone. Not even your subordinates."

"Really, tribune." Marcus began to march toward the Caesar's chamber. "I haven't been a senator for thirty years and a high legate for ten by being a brook that babbles upon every ear I see. Why would I start now?"

Yale hesitated and began to walk with Marcus. "Please remember that, high legate."

Caesar turned off his sensors for a moment to compose himself. He shut down various inputs and disengaged from the Matrix. He needed to focus.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come," he said.

Two Praetorian Guards entered two paces, saluted and moved to either side of the doors. Cato Yale entered next. Wearing light gray Gemnar armor with the Guard's typical golden collar and white straps across the shoulders, he saluted and then turned ninety degrees to await the entrance of Toma Marcus. The senator stepped in two paces and saluted with his fist over his chest. Only then did he look around.

"Welcome, Toma," Caesar said.

Marcus' brow furrowed and he didn't move his head. His eyes darted about, trying to find where the leader was. "Imperator..."

"Come in. Don't fear."

He lowered his arm and slowly moved ahead. One step. Then another. His eyes leapt from the marble columns to the ornate wooden chairs. He looked at the velvet drapes for a time before Caesar spoke again.

"Guards, you may go." The men complied and departed. Yale turned to face the Caesar but he watched the high legate with some amusement.

Marcus took another step toward the large cube. Still, his eyes did not study it. He continued to scan the chairs and other hiding places. "My lord, I am, uh..."

"At a loss, obviously." When Caesar spoke, indicator lights flashed on the surface of the box and only this time did it draw the man's attention. "I am here. Within this plastic and metal shell."

Marcus stopped and looked at either end. Given its size, a man might fit inside. "And what is this shell, imperator?"

"My new body." The senator's head pulled back and his eyes widened. "The first stage of my life extension."

Toma nodded briefly and asked, "How goes that program, lord?"

"Slowly, but that is to be expected." Given the man's stance, Caesar could tell many more questions would be forthcoming if he didn't interrupt now. "Let us draw on the target, high legate."

"Yes, dominus."

Caesar waited for the report. He scanned the uniform, noting the dark red tunic, brown dress pants with leather boots, dark leather baldric across his chest but missing its weapon. His golden belt buckle and epaulets denoted his high rank. Marcus still seemed to be entranced by the blinking lights. "Well, senator?"

"Of course, lord." He reached to the rear of his belt and removed a small electronic slate. "Just before sunrise, local time, on the island of Gela, shoulder-mounted rockets were used to attack our naval base at the port of Ofun."

"Three ships were damaged. Thirty-two injured. Six killed."

Marcus seemed surprised. "Yes, imperator." He looked back at his slate and continued, "They were launched from small fishing boats registered to the nearby island of Dogura. For the last four years, the people..."

"I am aware of the regional strife, high legate," Caesar interrupted. Toma folded his arms behind his back. "I am also aware that the materials have been traced back to Alabor." The Caesar thought. It took only a second, but it felt longer to him. "When last I checked, dating of those materials was incomplete. There is no way to know, at present, if Alabor sold those weapons to Dogura twenty years ago or yesterday."

"Correct, lord."

"We must find that out," Caesar said. "It will dictate our actions toward Alabor." Marcus nodded. "As for Dogura, prepare two legions and report to Ofun."

The legate blinked. "Imperator?"

"Our vessels have been attacked in a terrorist strike. We will rely on our intelligence consul to suss out the extent to which Dogura's government was aware of it. If it was an isolated plot, we will surgically remove those elements. If we find that there was collusion with the government, we will retaliate with the weight of our imperial might."

Marcus swallowed hard and said, "If I may speak as a senator, imperator, you will require a vote of the Senate before..."

"I am aware of that. I am only ordering the movement of our forces. Something well within the rights of the office of imperator."

"Absolutely," Marcus said. "If other nations, however, perceive this as a violation of the Accord,..."

"Damn the Accord!" Caesar yelled. The speakers crackled with the volume and both Marcus and Yale squinted. "It has been four hundred years since Tiberia was first shackled with it. Perhaps it is time for a new Accord."

The senator glanced for a moment toward Cato Yale, but he stopped himself. Still, the Caesar saw the motion.

"Fear not, Toma. I will not wage a world war over some pissed off fishermen in the Iberian Sea." Marcus lowered his head slowly and the cube spoke again, "Time for my official orders."

"Yes, imperator."

"In your position as high legate, I order you to command two legions and dispatch them to Ofun where you will await further instruction. Should war come to the Empire, I shall make you my magister, and you will take the Empire to victory. My tribune will provide you with the standards and eagles." Cato nodded.

"Thank you, imperator," Marcus said.

"In your position as senator," Caesar said, "I ask that you notify the Senate of my orders and then appoint a temporary replacement for yourself."

"As you command, princeps."

The Caesar smiled. Rather, he would have, if he still had a mouth. Toma Marcus was a good man. He knew his work and he knew his place. He would do well.
VIII

**AHLJAELA**

161 Years Before the End

The noise was painful.

Long ago, he learned to fashion earplugs from strips of fabric, roll them up and push them into his ears. It was still loud, but it was bearable, to a point. For many years he did this and he never noticed a decline in his hearing. He had recently, though. Laphé called for him four times before he answered the other morning. That worried her. And him.

"You," the foreman said.

Mar stepped away from the corner where the plastic shells for the cars were dispensed and toward the clean up area. Workers used files to trim down the razor-sharp edges. They wore thick gloves to protect themselves, but the occasional brown splatter of dried blood was visible everywhere here.

"Name?"

He shouted the response, "Ahlajela. Mar Ahljaela."

He wrote it down on his pad and then waved him to follow. Mar walked behind and to the right of the foreman; a sign of respect. He wore a shiny plastic helmet and the edges of foam earplugs were visible just inside his ear canals. If his hearing really was getting worse, Ahljaela thought it might be worth the two denars to buy some. They walked under a moving crane and into the open spaces of the factory floor. It was cavernous and the thin line of windows near the top of the walls showed that the sun was nearly setting. Early spring meant the sun's hours were slowly getting longer. It made him wish for home.

"You've worked the form presses before?"

Mar shouted again, "Yes."

"Good. There was an accident."

_Again?_ , he thought. It seemed to be happening more and more. A slow hand meant your fingers could be caught between two giant plates before they slammed together. Forgotten goggles meant a spray of metal and plastic shards could blind you. A missed switch meant steam cooked your skin at nearly one hundred degrees. It was normal in the factory, but others were noticing it, too.

Ahead, there was a clutch of workers standing around, looking at the floor. Mar didn't need to see. He knew the worker was likely lying there.

The foreman slammed the pad against his knuckles and the group scattered. "Get back to work. There's nothing you can do for him."

Ahljaela kept his eyes straight ahead as he walked. When he came alongside the injured worker, he couldn't help but glance over. It was Rand.

"No!" he shouted and jumped to his knees. He slid toward the man and picked up his right arm. He didn't move. Mar looked across his body and finally settled on his left arm, what remained of it.

There was no hand. In fact, what was recognizable as arm ceased just below the elbow. All that was left of the forearm were several bloodied tendrils, like torn cloth. They lay in a wide pool of blood. After staring for a moment, Mar finally saw the jagged edge of bone within the mess.

"Come on," the foreman pulled Ahljaela up and away.

He kept staring and saw that someone tied a rope belt above his elbow like a tourniquet.

"You knew him?" the foreman asked.

Mar stumbled backward and finally turned to walk after the foreman. "Yes."

"Shame." They walked toward a huge array of stopped machines. He placed Mar by a large cylindrical mold. A robotic arm held a partially formed plastic shell in position and ready to slam down. To the right, another robotic arm had its claws open and ready to pull a shell off the cylindrical form. "You've worked here before."

"Yes," he answered, comparatively a whisper.

"Don't be like that guy." He motioned his thumb over his shoulder to Rand's body and continued, "Don't pull off the part with your bare hands. Free it with the tool and let the claw get it."

Mar looked at the panel and saw the tool lying there. And then he saw sprays of blood on the side of the robots and controls. Slowly, he reached down and lifted the fork-shaped device. "It's broken." That's why Rand used his hands.

The foreman lowered his pad and took the tool from Ahljaela. "Hmm. Shame." He slid it into his pocket and inhaled. "Look, we have to get it started again so use your hands for a few. I'll send somebody back with a new one."

Mar was frozen. He glanced at the mold and the robots and then back at the foreman. "Are you sure?"

The larger man's jaw flexed and his shoulders squared. "Get to work."

If he objected again, Mar would be fired. No question about it.

He turned toward the controls and looked nervously at the metal cylinder. The foreman waved and the robots jerked to life.

The one on the left with the plastic slammed down hard on the cylinder. Mar flinched and forced himself to move closer. The cylinder heated up and the warmth flashed in his face. The robot lifted and the plastic shell remained atop the cylinder. He reached under the edge and burned his fingers. He withdrew for a second and then thrust them back underneath the panel. It took three good flicks, but it came free and he pushed it toward the open claws of the robot on the right. It took the shell, spun around and dropped it on a conveyor belt.

Ahljaela looked at his red fingers. He didn't know how long he could keep doing this. Just then, the arm slammed another shell on the cylinder and flash-heated the plastic. He tried to pull his sleeve down over his hand and he found that it helped when he lifted the corner of the shell. Not as hot, but it was still awkward.

He did that several times before he thought about tearing the bottom of one of his canvas pant legs off to use as a kind of glove. He looked down quickly and saw that his knees and shins were soaked through with blood. Rand's blood. The robot slammed the next piece down on the cylinder and it didn't faze him at all.

Slowly, he bent and tore his pants beneath the knee. The firm, wet fabric came off easily and Mar's breath stopped as he felt how cold it was. He looked back and saw that Rand's body was gone. Only a maintenance worker remained to clean up the red pool.

He lifted the shell from the cylinder quickly. He grit his teeth and thought about the blood becoming a small part of this product... whatever the Tartarus it was going to be.

Mar glanced down at his pants and he knew he was going to have to get new clothes. They were sure to deduct at least four denars from this week's pay because of that.
IX

**THE MESSENGERS**

161 Years Before the End

Dr. Gram Vitelus looked into his microscope. "C'mon," the professor said, "link up." He was manipulating a small metal arm as he peered. At a far, far smaller scale, metallic globules were adrift, waiting to be attracted by a slight electric charge. And then they were. A moment later, he lurched back and threw his arms into the air. "Yes! Finally!"

The Messengers stood on either side of him, unseen. They looked at the molecules he manipulated and spoke to each other.

"He is one," the female said.

In a unified movement, they reached their hands into the mind of the doctor. His head flinched. He stopped breathing and looked around the room.

Both tenders remained still and watched him.

He sniffed, shook his head and looked back into the microscope.

The Messengers reached further into his mind. Their fingers felt the tendrils of his neurons and examined his synapses. They found memories and thoughts and ideas.

Without moving his head, Vitelus' eyes widened and he tried to figure out what it was that dug into him so.

The beings noticed this.

"Fascinating," the male said. "He is aware."

The female studied him and said, "He is. But how?"

Slowly, Gram straightened in his chair. His eyes shifted to either side of him and he took a deep breath. He spun around in his seat quickly, hoping to see someone or something nearby. He saw nothing. His legs and the chair moved through the forms of the Messengers and they simply observed him.

"I know you're here," he said aloud.

"He is sleep deprived," the female said. "Perhaps that has awakened some sort of awareness in him."

"Perhaps," the other said.

He reached into Vitelus' mind again and found the neurons he sought. He adjusted one. The synaptic cleft grew in size and altered the memory he had.

Immediately, Gram stood up and clutched his head. "What the frak is going on?!"

The female stood beside the male. She had withdrawn her touch from the human's mind earlier. "It appears that our interference cannot be as direct as it was in other planes. These creatures are too fragile, as you said."

"Indeed." The male watched the professor move about the room, yelling into corners and out the window. "Nonetheless, our presence here has forced the future into focus somewhat."

"It has," she said. "His work plays no direct part in the death of this tree."

The pair drifted from the man's workshop in Nandia and south toward the mountains. "There will have to be guidance," the male said. "Subtle urgings."

"Agreed." She paused.

His form drifted by, then he stopped and turned. "Why do you hesitate?"

"I wish to study humans further. I feel the need to urge and guide in trivial matters before we attend to The One's tree."

The male paused and thought. "Practice?" She nodded and he answered, saying, "Very well."

The Messengers vanished.
X

**DONOVAN**

159 Years Before the End

The doctor traveled under an assumed name.

It was a vacation, he told the Caesar. He needed to rest. For nearly three whole years he worked on the program and he didn't feel any closer to a solution. There were advances, sure. Robotics made more precise. The minituarization of some elements and parts. But not the ones that would give the Caesar the freedom he desired.

"Is that your friend, mister?" the boat captain said.

Donovan looked over the side and shielded his eyes. He saw a blue sail a few hundred meters away. He nodded and said, "It is."

"I could drive you right there, if you want." The doctor was removing his shoes and he shook his head. "As you wish."

Donovan put one foot on the bow and his hand on the rail. He looked over his shoulder at the captain and said, "I'll be back in an hour or so."

"I'm not leaving," the older man said. "You've only paid half so far."

The doctor nodded and dove into the ocean. The water was warm, but the chill was still a surprise. He surfaced briefly and began to stroke his way toward the distant sailboat. As he brought each arm up in the air and in front of him, turning his head side to side, he thought.

Each point was carefully laid out in his mind. Each question. Each contingency. As he swam, he went over them again. When he was done and saw he still had some distance to go before he reached the boat, he ran down the list yet again.

"Greetings," the woman on board said. She braced her foot on the rail and reached down with her hand. Donovan crawled over the side and flopped into the plastic bench there. He was out of breath. "Welcome to Arba."

Ryall looked to his left and he could barely make out the tiny verdant island on the horizon. "Yeah, right."

Constance tossed him a towel blanket and he wrapped it about himself. "Drink?"

"Please."

She handed him a bottle of water and then a glass bottle. He took a few hearty gulps from the water first before drinking the alcohol. He winced and then nodded. "Fresh mulsum."

"Just made yesterday." The woman sat and asked, "How is my dear brother-in-law?"

"He is... well. Far better than I expected."

She inhaled deeply and said, "A pity."

Donovan looked Constance over. She was young; only in her thirties. The wind caught a strand of her strawberry blond hair and forced her to tuck it behind her ear.

"And your husband?" When he asked, she looked down toward the water. "I see."

Immediately, she moved toward the doctor. "He's not that bad. Really." He shook his head. "He could take office. I could help him. It's been done before."

Ryall nodded. "It has... but, for this to work out, the next emperor must be there. Fully present. Ready."

"He is."

Donovan looked into her eyes. They were light green and wide. Donovan's steely gray gaze pierced her quickly and she turned away.

He said, "That's what I thought."

She punched the side of the boat and rocked with the waves of the ocean for a few quiet moments. Finally, she said, "I'm pregnant."

The doctor nodded. "Good. We'll have to wait longer, but it's a start." She didn't say anything else. "Did you visit the doctor in Nandia I recommended?"

"Yes. He handled the fertilization. Made sure everything was fine. No congenital defects. Less than a five percent chance for schizophrenia."

"Considering his father, that's good." She whipped her head toward the doctor and nearly spoke. She stopped herself. "Constance, Faustus Valerius may be a kind man, but he is not fit to be Caesar."

She blinked once and nodded. "Tiberia could use a kind man from time to time."

"True. But in a coup, possibly with regicide, a kind man would be a detriment."

"My son," she said, "when can he be Caesar?"

Donovan's nostrils flared and he glanced toward his chartered boat. It still floated hundreds of meters away. "When he's of age."

"There have been empresses before. Even empress regents..."

"But again... in this situation, we need a Caesar who is ready. Someone the people can rally 'round." Ryall put the mostly undrunk mulsum in a cup holder and finished the bottle of water. "It will be some time. Many years." She inhaled and exhaled slowly before Ryall added. "And when that time comes, your kind man must no longer be with us."

"That won't be a problem," she muttered. "He's old. In another fifteen years, he'll probably be gone." The doctor nodded and tossed the towel aside. "What about Max's life project? How is that going?"

Donovan tilted his head and shrugged, "I've got my eye on things. It won't go well as long as I'm in charge."

Constance squinted as a cloud revealed the sun, "How can you be sure?"

"There are about a dozen different projects around the world working on it. Some are dealing with the mind, some with the body... none are working on both. Both will be needed."

"And you?"

"My expertise is in the mind, so I'm working on minituarizing the technology that's keeping the Caesar alive. A robotic body seems most likely for now."

He stood up and sighed as he prepared to re-enter the ocean. Before he did, she asked, "When will you contact me again?"

He looked back, said, "When I need to," and dove in.
XI

**BARAZ**

158 Years Before the End

"It's time." Karin turned away from the windows and followed Mione down the hallway. "You got another call from Governor Dwarrick."

"Anything special?"

"No," Mione said. "Just trying to get into your pants, I'm sure." She smirked. Baraz didn't find it amusing.

Her stride slowed and she turned part of the way toward her assistant, "Huban's launch today..."

"Yes." Mione pressed the screen on her wristband. "Went well. Spacecraft is in orbit now."

"As soon as you hear anything about our cellular growth lattice, let me know."

"I will."

Karin walked past a security guard and into the prep room. "Are you coming in?"

Mione pointed behind her, "I've got a load of things to do." Baraz nodded and began scrubbing her hands in the sink. "If you need me..."

"No," she said. "That's fine." As the younger woman left, Karin methodically washed her hands. She counted each stroke. She covered the same area the same number of times. A lab tech emerged and got her coat and cleansuit ready. She kicked her shoes into the bin, turned and put her left foot inside first. Then her right. She leaned forward as the tech pushed against her. Baraz's arms stretched through the fabric and plastic and toward the gloves. She felt constricted as he pulled the left side of the rear flap against her right side and affixed all of the closures.

He stepped to her front and raised his eyebrows. "All good, ma'am?"

Karin nodded and moved toward the door. He pressed a button and it slid into the wall. She stepped forward and the door closed behind her. A blast of air and disinfectant mist filled the small chamber. The hatch at the other end opened and she moved through it and into the expansive laboratory.

"Good morning, Madam Baraz," another lab tech said.

"Good morning." Karin was still organizing her thoughts. She saw each of her questions and concerns numbered in a list. As the tech connected hoses to the side of her suit, she decided to see the items on the list with bullet points instead of numbers. She didn't want to ascribe more importance to one item over another. At least not yet.

"Ready."

Baraz nodded and moved between the empty desks and toward the exam tables and tanks on the far side of the room. Several researchers were there already, including her appointed lead on the project, Dr. Julian Hikka.

"Madam Baraz," he said. He stepped aside and the other scientists bowed toward her slightly. "This is an auspicious day."

"I hope so." Hikka turned toward the tanks but Karin spoke up, "Before we begin, I want to thank all of you for your work. I haven't been involved as I would have liked, given the company's move here from Attica and all the political dancing we had to do." There were a couple of chuckles. "Regardless, I am here now and eagerly awaiting the results."

Hikka nodded and he motioned toward a few illuminated jars. One held a heart, another some muscle tissue, the third part of a brain... "The donor gametes were thoroughly vetted for genetic maladies and screened. We selected a few that suited our purposes and began fertilization and then routine organ replication. Then we... altered them. Made the muscles more durable. The nerves regenerative. That took a little time but not as much as I feared."

Karin was nodding, "Yes. We've already begun incorporating that into our standard duplication services." They moved toward an open door. Hikka walked in first and the others followed him. The lights were off, but once Baraz was in, someone flipped a switch and the room became illuminated.

In the center, two large tanks sat. They were filled with a translucent fluid and two bodies floated within. Her eyes widened and she leaned over to see inside.

"The fruits of our labors," Hikka said. "We've named the female Gaia and the male Ouranos."

She squinted to see. The fluid distorted their appearances, as did the walls of the tank and the protective faceplate of her suit. "After the old gods..."

"It would have taken decades to get us to this point, but the extra funding, the concentration of hundreds of researchers..."

"You did this?" Karin asked. "These are... clones?"

"Not exactly," Hikka said. He shifted within his suit. The tone his employer used was more adversarial than he anticipated. "They are unique beings. They were created in the lab and their growth accelerated, much like we do with our organs."

Baraz knelt down to see in the tank. One of the scientists began to speak, "It took some time to find the right combination of conditions to accelerate an entire body's growth."

"There were failures?" Karin whispered.

The woman looked toward Hikka, who nodded. The scientist said, "Yes. Several."

Baraz realized her mouth had been hanging open. She closed it and swallowed. "Very well. It is done." She looked at everyone's expression and saw their concern.

_Speed_ , she thought. _My primary instruction for Hikka was speed_.

Karin inhaled and asked, "Approximate age?"

"Twenty-five," someone said. "Full cerebral development age."

"And their brains," Baraz began, "how does that work?"

"Their brains consist of hand-arranged neurons, axon studding and fluidic transistors..." Karin's head snapped up. "... with silica pathaways for faster conduction ..."

"Wait," Baraz said. "'Hand-arranged?'"

"Yes, doctor," the researcher said. "It was laborious..."

"I'm certain," Karin said. "But that and fluidic transistors, silica... that's not genetic."

The scientists looked toward Hikka. He turned toward Baraz and said, "My intent was to create a better being. One that would live longer. Healthier. A faster mind and body."

Karin nodded. "True, but this can't be passed on." Hikka seemed confused. "Reproduction, doctor. That was one of the conditions of the Project."

His face didn't shift. "Yes, but we felt it would be best to start from a position of strength. We can adjust for... reproduction later."

For nearly four years, this project worked without her. She wanted to be more involved but the business side of things kept pulling her. She was distracted. Now, she cursed herself for the decisions she made.

"What other non-hereditary alterations were made?" she asked.

One of the researchers spoke softly, "Carbon strengthening of the bones. Grapheet enhancements of the muscles and sense organs."

Baraz nodded and turned toward the door. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. The others said and did nothing. She lost track of how long it took her to compose herself. Finally, she turned slightly toward Hikka and said, quietly, "Come with me."

Hikka hesitated but he followed her out the door and into the larger laboratory. He said nothing and watched Baraz. Her eyes were flicking side to side before she finally looked up.

"You've cost us money and, more importantly, time." He said nothing. "You've built better people, but at the expense of one of the Caesar's primary requirements..."

"They can still have children," he interrupted.

"Really?" Hikka nodded and Karin asked, "And will your enhancements be passed along?"

He paused. "No."

"Exactly." She inhaled and tried to think again. "Their minds?"

"We've put information in there," Hikka said. "Both with neuron manipulation and a direct data tap into the hippocampus."

"Have they been awakened yet?"

"No."

Baraz took a step away and turned slowly. "This is what will happen. I am taking over as head of the project." Hikka lowered his head and she continued. "You will remain, since you're more familiar with these people and the work you've done so far."

"Yes, doctor."

_Finally_. "We will use Ouranos and Gaia as test subjects. We'll try out new methods of memory transfer and such on them. Has that been accomplished yet?"

"Piecemeal," he said. "Not an entire mind."

"We'll need to work on that." Karin moved back toward the room with their colleagues. "We'll start from the pile tomorrow. Pick and choose the genes we want. Amplify what we can with genetics. We'll make multiple subjects to test everything on."

"Yes, doctor."

She was about to enter the room when she stopped and said, "This is not a failure. You have accomplished something... amazing. Something BBM can use, for certain. It's just not what we were looking for."

"I understand."

They entered the room and Baraz stared at the illuminated tanks. The bodies just floated there. There was no movement. No wires that she could see led toward them. These seemed to be shells of people, waiting. For what, exactly, she wasn't certain.
XII

**CAESAR**

157 Years Before the End

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer screamed into the microphone, "Lord Imperator Caesar Maxentius the Ninth!" The crowd that had gathered and been gathered in Viminal Square below the palace roared and cheered. The minister stepped away from the edge of the balcony, bent and backed toward one side.

The Caesar strode out onto the deck. His steps were slow and deliberate but his movements were certain. He put his left hand on the marble rail and waved to the many thousands with his right. His chest puffed out at their response and he pulled his head back, lifting his chin. One side of his lip curled into a smile of satisfaction.

"Greetings, Tiberians!" he yelled. "Today is a great day for the Empire and our people. After years of effort, our Life Extension Project has yielded magnificent fruit!" He paused, expecting more ovation, but none came. He decided to focus instead on the video cameras. "Dr. Ryall Donovan has worked tirelessly to better our lives and he has succeeded!" He motioned toward the doctor. He smiled, lowered his head and stepped forward. "As decreed, Dr. Donovan will be handsomely rewarded and through his efforts, the people of Tiberia... and all Larsa... will benefit!"

The Caesar reached up and adjusted a stray tuft of his thick, brown hair... not because it bothered him but because he could. "Despite this success, the Project will carry on! Rewards will still be showered upon those who achieve our aims! We still encourage the greatest minds in the world to strive toward this goal. Make our bodies stronger and our minds enduring! Conquer this, the last, greatest frontier!"

The crowd cheered again and Caesar stepped away from the microphones. He waved and saluted before backing toward the doors. Two Praetorian Guards opened them and he looked back to see that the entry was wide enough. He smiled and kept waving. He pulled on the edge of his purple cape and turned only once his feet crossed the threshold.

Inside, the guards shut the doors and drew the curtains. Caesar stalked toward a corner and cast aside his cape and underrobe. He unzipped his tunic and threw it down, too. The array of cables and wires that led from his lower back toward the floor was now fully exposed. The lines coiled behind him and connected to the great gray cube that had been his only body for the past few years.

"I felt my left hand do it again, Donovan," Caesar said. "It grabbed my cape without me telling it to."

The doctor removed an electronic notepad from his pocket and began to scribble with his finger. "Understood, dominus."

Caesar braced himself with his right hand on the corner of the cube. He forced his puppet to look at the blinking lights on the box's face, realizing that each flash meant he was thinking. He sighed. For the first time in several years, the Caesar sighed. No air was inhaled or exhaled, yet his body seemed to unconsciously carry out that action.

He lifted his left arm and a panel of tan skin fell to the floor. On the marble, the plastic clattered and the sharp noise echoed in the large room. "See?"

Donovan stooped low and picked up the forearm cover. "Yes, imperator."

"I still think this is remarkable, Caesar." The leader turned to the corner where eight prefects stood. Most of them were old and fat. A couple used to be senators but now they were all rich supporters of the emperor and handed ancient but useless titles. He needed these sychophants though he despised them.

"'Remarkable,' Prefect Gallian?" Caesar asked. "I feel no different now than I did when I spent my days in the box." He motioned toward it and another plastic skin-colored covering fell to the floor. He glared at Donovan who scooped it up and began examining the clasps. "I'm tethered to this frakking box as though I were an angry dog in someone's backyard!"

"You appear as a man of no more than thirty," Gallian said again. Like a dissonant choir, the other prefects began to nod and verbally agree. "Doctor Donovan has done a great service."

"One that we all will enjoy," another prefect added.

Caesar ignored them. "My senses are no different."

"Your balance?" Donovan asked.

Caesar thought, "Seems to be better." The doctor nodded. "I feel... like I'm watching myself move from a great distance. Like I'm operating a remote controlled toy."

Ryall smiled slightly, "You very nearly are, imperator."

The Caesar didn't respond. He paced a few steps and then said, "You've given me some measure of mobility, doctor, and I thank you." Donovan bowed low and the leader continued, "But more must be done."

"Of course, lord."

"I need to feel. I need to smell." Caesar recalled his nearly involuntary sigh. "I would like to breathe again, doctor."

Donovan understood and nodded very slowly. "Mobility was one step..."

"One you haven't fully realized, doctor," Caesar interrupted.

"Granted," Ryall muttered. "Still, the body you are using is the most advanced unit ever produced on Larsa."

Caesar held up his hand and flexed his fingers. "Needs work."

"I could store your memory itself in that body, lord," Donovan began, "but the components that drive your higher logic functions and your sensors... they are still much too large."

The imperator looked around the room. He took a step toward the prefects when he felt the slack in the datacables tighten. He looked behind himself and saw that the coils were beginning to drag with him across the floor. Caesar reached for his lower back and ran his fingers around the circular connectors. He stroked the cables away from his body and lifted a few of them up as he looked toward Donovan.

"I don't care how long and hard you must work, I don't care whose help you employ," Maxentius said, "I must evolve."
XIII

**THE MESSENGERS**

157 Years Before the End

Conflict.

It attracted the male tender and he drew toward it in the Iberian Sea. His form coalesced by that of High Legate Toma Marcus. He served the Caesar, a lead figure in the death of humanity. The Messengers saw this.

"Status," Marcus said while he scanned the ocean with a monocular.

A sub-tribune held a computer display below his face and began to read, "The boats withdrew after their last attack. Aerial units say they retreated back to the coast. The same docks and villages as before."

Marcus sat down and placed the viewing device on the table. He rubbed his eyes and looked across the faces of his senior staff.

The tender didn't interfere, but he looked into the mind of the high legate. He sensed the frustration. More than three years here on Gela. Dozens of attacks on the port by fishermen with old weapons. He felt fear, too. One of the two legions sent here had been recalled only a month ago. Marcus worried that, if a full attack came, he wouldn't be prepared with only one legion.

"My lord," a centurion said as she ran into the room. "Word from Tiber."

Marcus straightened and pulled on the lower edge of his tunic. "Speak."

The young woman lifted her device and pressed the screen. Her eyes scanned it first and then she read, "Lord Imperator Caesar Maxentius the Ninth names High Legate Toma Marcus his Magister." The older man's head lowered but she continued, "The Senate of Tiberia has voted to support the imperator's actions to defend the island of Gela and the port of Ofun. The Magister shall use whatever force is necessary to quell these attacks and prevent further incursions upon the sovereign land of the Tiberian Empire."

Marcus nodded and stood. "Very well." His voice was nearly a whisper. The male Messenger listened to his inner mind. _Finally. Action, after so long. Are we ready? 'Whatever force is necessary'... what does that mean?_

The tender listened to each of the tribunes and generals in the room. Their minds also reeled with doubt and questions. Fear and excitement. Their respiration quickened and the high legate began to give orders for the movement of their forces.

The Messenger cast himself from that room and across the body of water. He found the shores of Dogura and the tiny villages targeted by the Caesar's eye. Families slept in huts by the beach. Substantial buildings stood upon the hillside. Ofun's attackers left the fishing boats, moved quietly between the structures and toward waiting vehicles that bore them from the coast.

The tender passed through the wooden walls and saw the dreams of the people inside. Surrealist, absurdist, realistic. Echoes of thought and memory. A child play by a pond, tossing food into red water. A young boy ran through the forest on four legs, hunting a rabbit. The father dug ditches in the scorching sunlight while his long-dead grandmother yelled at him.

He looked to the thoughts of the conscious mother. She lay awake in bed, pondering the next day's meals. There wasn't enough food for them all and she would go without again.

The Messenger moved to another building and watched a fisherman cradle his infant child.

"Go to sleep," he told his wife. "It is my turn."

The child cried and the father tempted her lips with the nipple of a bottle. She suckled for a moment but then spat it out and cried again. The father's head rolled back and he swore quietly.

_Why won't you sleep?!_ he screamed in his head. _Please, just go to sleep!_ His mind fired in a rage and his thoughts cried in anger. And then he did something that surprised the tender. He kissed the child's forehead. The emotions that boiled within his mind began to subside. He cradled the baby and all seemed well.

Then the Tiberians came.

It began with a volley of rockets fired by a line of gyrocopters. Dozens streaked through the air and rent the sand and stone open with explosions. The dreams of the sleeping vaporized into nothingness. The Messenger was flooded with their bursts of fear.

Another volley tore into the seaside huts. Wood splintered and pierced the skin of the people inside. They didn't react because the detonations knocked them unconscious or worse.

The tender stood and watched.

The gyrocopters roared overhead and their cannons fired hundreds of projectiles into the homes and vehicles. More rockets were launched and the larger homes on the hill quaked and cracked. Screams finally began to be heard above the destruction. People fled into the streets.

The male drifted into the wrecked remnant of one structure. The colorful dreams were gone. Their emotions were silent. Before, their thoughts seemed tethered to these people's minds, forming a tapestry all around the Messenger. Now the strings had been cut. The tapestry was tattered and no spark was left in these people.

A woman screamed and the tender saw. Her fisherman husband lay dead, clutching, protecting the dead body of their child. She wailed.

The Messenger felt the damage done to this world's tree.

The female tender dwelled with a family near the Getulian Desert in the nation of Ghattaffan. The mother, Minah Gaber, was working in a marketplace. She stood behind a cart filled with baskets of fruits and other items.

"Fresh dates!" she called. "Apples from the east!"

An older woman approached and looked over the goods. "How much for the apples?"

Gaber smiled and said, "Only two dira each." The older woman didn't see this as a deal. She was ready to scoff when Minah said, "Buy four and get the fifth free."

Her wrinkled brow lifted and she said, "Done." She removed the bills from her pocket and counted them out. She gave four to Gaber as she deposited the fruit in her canvas bag.

When the customer left, Minah began to speak to herself in her mind.

Thank you, God, for this. I beg you to please send another.

As she finished the thought, a man approached, chewing part of his sandwich, and said, "Give me a box of almonds."

She smiled and pulled a white paper box from under the cart. "Three dira, please."

Without a word, the man tossed three bills onto the cart and took the box from her hands.

Minah gleefully put the money away and thought to herself, _Thank you, God, again. I humbly ask you to send another customer to me._

The tender looked about and saw no one who would approach. Still, Gaber seemed pleased. She hummed music and trumpeted the goods she had for sale to each person who walked past. The lunch period ended and the market quieted considerably. Minah, whose dark desert skin contrasted with her wide, white smile, began to hum.

The Messenger looked deeper in her mind. She scanned through her memories and saw the connective tissue of her faith. She was Ramani, a centuries-old offshoot of the Median Church. The female withdrew as the threads grew muddled. She needed to look into the past further than this one person could remember. She sought the minds still tied to the roots of this world's tree.

Ancient Badaria... many thousands of years ago. Scattered tribes with multiple deities began to unify. Years after that, wars eliminated whole nations. Gods mingled in the people's minds; some were lost through attrition. Ice crept upon the world an age later. Many thousands of people risked the grinding ice of the north and walked across the ocean to eastern Isinnia. Others sailed and reached western Eridia and western Isinnia. They took with them the deities of the old lands.

War continued in the new regions for centuries. One victorious tribal nation exalted their deity of the sky above the rest, becoming the first major monotheist group. Ohr Zahd, they called it, and whosoever they conquered were compelled to worship him. Through the ages, new leaders and new priests adjusted the message. Books were written. Holy scriptures composed by committee. The word of Ohr Zahd spread. By the time the Atticans grew into a major power, with their worship of Cronus and his Pantheon of Titans, the violence of Ohr Zahd's believers waned and they converted through speech and evangelizing. Isinnia was fractured by regional beliefs; still of the one formerly called Ohr Zahd, yet differing in tone and message. A unifying force was needed and a middle path was forged. The Median Church was founded. A large power, the Church converted the remaining nations of other beliefs with the edge of their sword. So much time had passed. New thoughts led to branching from the Median Church and strife still existed among the separate similar faiths, sometimes marked by violence, but mostly not.

The female Messenger refocused herself on Minah Gaber. Her faith was the product of millennia of warfare, imagination, compromise, survival. It was remarkable.

Hours after her last sale, the woman was still smiling and still speaking to her god in her mind. The tender found this remarkable, too. She called on her god and her deity gave no answer. No customers arrived. Yet her steadfastness remained.

The evening came. Customers returned to the market and an envigorated Minah stood and yelled out the contents of her cart. No one stopped.

The tender drifted into the center of the lane as people passed Gaber and continued on their way to the main area. A man came near and the Messenger leaned forward and said, "Fruit."

The man stopped, looked through the tender and turned toward Minah. He took three steps and said, "A box of dates, please."

Gaber smiled and exchanged the goods. When the man had gone, she thought, _Thank you, God. Please send another._

The female felt some pleasure at that, to her surprise. She looked into the stream of potential customers and whispered simple instructions at several more.
XIV

**VITELUS**

157 Years Before the End

The doctor pushed his hand into the glove. It was thick and heavy, but he could lift it, even though he was so very tired.

"Not that tired," he said out loud. "I can go."

Once his arm was in up to his shoulder, Dr. Gram Vitelus held it up and looked through the glass case at it.

"Lattice intact," he said. "Charged. Clean. Ready to go." His voice trailed off and he continued to mumble, "Ready to go. Go. Go."

He lost all help on his project two years ago. He stayed up far longer than he should have and he began to hallucinate. He knew someone was in the room with him. He yelled and destroyed furniture. He nearly destroyed all his work before a student stopped him. Vitelus got some sleep, nearly an entire day, but when he woke, he was no better. He spoke to himself out loud. He twitched. He was paranoid.

"Ready to dip. Dip, dip. Double dip," he said.

With a manipulator arm, Gram removed the cap on his vat of wolfram cells. He turned his gloved hand down and slowly inserted it into the container.

"Warm." He kept speaking as he sank it to his elbow. "Tight. Lots of pressure." He looked over at a computer screen. The three bars displayed were all blue. He nodded and tapped a key on the panel. There was a high-pitched whine and then he slumped toward the tank. "Very heavy. Very warm."

The computer beeped and Vitelus pulled his arm from the vat. The shiny metallic spheres clung to him in great globs situated along the lines of the lattice on the glove. Gram smiled and jumped up and down a little. Once it was free of the container, he used the arm to replace the top.

"Now's the time." He pushed another button. "Fun."

The globs flattened and coated the entire length of the glove. Vitelus smiled again and he spread his fingers apart. It was like an armored glove from the knights of fairy tales. It was flexible and malleable. It seemed to glow and, when he held it up to the glass, it acted like a mirror, perfectly reflecting his tired face.

"Fun time," he said. He pushed another button and the surface of the metal skin rippled, grew dim and dull, and then became red. He jumped as high as he could with his arm still inside. He bit his knuckle and laughed through the pain. "Good!" he yelled. "More to do."

He pushed a couple of keys and the red surface became shiny like before. It rippled and swelled, making his arm seem twice as large. His tests were going better than expected.

A dart struck his neck.

Vitelus fell against the case and the shiny metal arm inside the contained area hit the closed vat. Nothing happened to it, but the shock of the impact caused the wolfram cells to shimmer and lose their shape.

"Clear," a soldier said. Seven men came inside and began to sweep equipment and books into large bins. The armed soldier pressed his fingers against the doctor's throat and nodded. "He's good. Bag him up."

One of the soldiers stopped at the case and stared at the gleaming metal glove inside. "What about this?"

The leader looked in the case and raised his eyebrows, "Bring it all."
XV

**AHLJAELA**

156 Years Before the End

His coughing woke him.

Mar sat up in bed and his wife brought a damp cloth to his mouth. She smacked his back and said, "Get it up."

He coughed a large, quaking expectoration and a cloudy glob poured from his mouth into the cloth. He looked at it and nodded. "Not as bad as before."

"Yes," she said. She dropped the cloth in a bin and said, "The bleeding seems to have stopped."

Mar flopped back onto his pillow. He heard birds chirping and he looked toward the window. They were still blocked by the large wicker panels. "Open them, please."

Laphé complied and bright daylight poured in. Mar covered his face for a moment until he could adjust. "The children are outside. I don't know if it's good for them to see you just yet."

"Yes," he said. "I don't want to risk it." He adjusted the covers before a horror washed over him. He sat up straight and began to push the blankets off. "What day is it?!"

"No, no," his wife said, "you don't have to go until tomorrow." Mar relaxed some and slowly replaced the sheets. "You haven't rested one full day yet."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be. You're ill."

Ahljaela looked toward the blue sky. The trees on the nearby slopes were green. The day seemed bright and colorful. So different than his time at the factory.

"I had to use a denar to ride the bus part of the way home. I just couldn't walk."

"You told me yesterday," Laphé said. "You don't have to apologize."

He felt like he had to. Over the last few months, it seemed like they had fewer and fewer denars to put in the jar each week. On occasion, they had to take some out to fix the house or pay for a doctor after Rovil broke his arm.

"Do you think you'll be ready to go back to work tomorrow?"

He paused. "Yes."

It was a lie.

Mar turned from the window and looked at the corner of the bedroom. Shadows fell toward the floor and his eyes scanned the lines of the wood. He was in the same position three days ago. Resting on his bunk, in the same room with nearly a dozen men. They were all coughing. Two were coughing blood.

The smell of sweat was everywhere, like usual. But there was also the odor of dried feces, the metallic hint of blood. Mar was staring at the shadows in the corner of the small room when he first felt the urge to cough. Once he did, it didn't stop.

By morning, almost a third of Siler River Plastics' workers were ill. The foremen tried to whip them into shape, but that only worked with those who only just began to show the symptoms. For the rest, they couldn't even move.

A masked doctor came by at lunch time. He examined many of the men and said it would pass in a few days. The bosses were not pleased. Those who could stand were forced to work. Those who didn't were told to leave.

He coughed and wheezed for two days. Blood ran from his mouth and mucous filled a plastic bag, but Mar kept working. He pulled plastic frames from molds and set them on conveyor belts for fourteen hours.

Even if the sickness passed, how much more could he take?
XVI

**BARAZ**

156 Years Before the End

Karin held the clear pane of glass gingerly. She swiped her finger across the top and the lights went away. She looked at her companions and nodded.

"Should I take that?" Mione said.

"Yes, please." Baraz straightened her suit jacket and began reciting the opening lines in her head. There were three points to be made and she could get them out easily enough. If the press had questions, she could steer them back to one of her previously made points. _Simple_.

"It's time."

Karin nodded and looked at the tall male and female behind her. "Ready?"

They both nodded.

Mione parted the curtains and the three strode out onto the dais. There were a few camera flashes and only two bright lights for video. Baraz scanned the room and was surprised to see so few people had come. She raised a single eyebrow and approached the podium while the man and woman behind her stood to one side.

"Good morning." A few buttons were pressed in the audience and their devices began to record. "Baraz Bio Medical is pleased to introduce, today, two people who will change the world." The duo stepped forward. "This is Ouranos." The tall, muscular, dark-haired man nodded. "And this is Gaia." Only slightly shorter than he, the athletic brunette nodded, too. "They are the first artificially created people in history."

Karin paused and kept a peripheral eye on the press. A few eyes widened. Some turned their heads side-to-side to look at their fellow reporters. The rest simply sat still. _Perhaps they missed it_.

"Using gene manipulation and artificial enhancements, Ouranos and Gaia were created three years ago. Thanks to BBM's cell growth technology, they were aged and then the long process of giving them our knowledge began." As she spoke, Baraz noticed the light clamor in the room. "Strong, fast, intelligent, they are..."

"What are you saying?" one reporter shouted. "You made them in a lab?"

Karin's eyebrows twitched upward for a second before she reined them in. "Yes. Precisely that." Everyone turned to look at them at once.

"Why?" someone said.

_Might as well move on to point two_ , Baraz thought. "The project began initially as an answer to Caesar Maxentius' life extension challenge." More rumblings in the room. "It was a means to expand BBM's horizons. Something we couldn't do while we remained in Attica, so we came to Doria. We pursued every available avenue in genetic research, freed from absurd government restrictions and cumbersome worker demands. By creating these people, we have exponentially pushed the bounds of our knowledge in medicine, chemistry, computers,..."

"Dr. Baraz," someone shouted, "how could you do this?"

She tilted her head in confusion. "I could explain, but it would be tedious..."

"No," he said, "how?" He emphasized the last word this time.

Karin nodded. "You mean to ask, 'How dare I?'"

There was a pause and then he said, softly, "Yes."

"When you hear the stories of people around the world suffering from simple ailments, ones we could cure in a day here... In a few years' time, we will have progressed so very far from where we are now. We will be able to share, with everyone, the medicine and knowledge we learn from these two."

"At a nice profit for you," someone muttered.

Baraz held up her hand, "We don't operate in a vaccum. This kind of research is not cheap. But, let me assure you, once we have perfected the processes at work here, BBM will do everything in our power to see that the world benefits. We have outreach programs already. You know that. Our medicines are regularly distributed in Scythia and Illyria for free. I intend to do the same for the technology we develop from Ouranos and Gaia." _And there's point three_.

"Do these people have... personalities?" a woman asked.

Karin looked toward them and Ouranos nodded. "Indeed we do." Cameras clicked.

"Um," the woman stammered, "what... what are you thinking right now?"

Ouranos grinned slightly. "That I have work to do. Work that I'd rather be doing." The room was silent. "Gaia?"

She stepped forward and said, "I'm thinking about work, too, but this is a welcome distraction."

A man stood up. "You're only three years old?"

"Yes," Gaia answered. "Our bodies were aged to about twenty-five to allow for maximum nervous system development and then the knowledge implantation began."

"'Implantation?' How does that work?"

Ouranos shrugged and said, "It sounds worse than it is. A special organic computer cable was plugged directly into our brains and information about many subjects, memories... They were transmitted to us and our brains stored that knowledge. Thanks to neural regeneration, we were able to absorb far more than three years worth."

Another man stood. "What kinds of memories? Other people's?"

"In some cases," Ouranos said.

"Usually it was someone in the lab who volunteered," Gaia said. "We got to see sunny days before we ever left our tanks. We smelled the air after a summer thunderstorm."

"Felt queasy on a sailing trip," he said. Gaia chuckled and Ouranos said, "Because we were given the same knowledge and experiences, it's like we did these things together."

Baraz smiled. They were doing better than she expected.

"Dr. Baraz," a reporter sat back down and continued, "this is... amazing. Obviously." Karin nodded. "Are they going to be... uh, turned over to Tiberia? For the Caesar's project?"

She took in a deep breath and put her hands on either side of the podium. "At first, that was the plan." There was murmuring in the room and she looked at the duo. "That all changed when they woke up. Immediately, I saw much more promise in keeping them here." A few reporters began to talk over each other but Baraz lifted her hands. "That's all for today. More information will be forthcoming. Thank you for your time." As the three walked off stage, flashes and more questions bombarded them. Mione parted the curtains and they entered the hallway quickly.

Baraz moved into the elevator and the others followed. She looked at both Ouranos and Gaia. "What do you think?"

He nodded and spoke first, "I believe it went well."

"They were, perhaps, a bit stunned by the news," Gaia said. "I'm sure their questions would have been better if they were more prepared."

Karin scoffed. "Don't give the media too much credit." Mione laughed. "Are you ready to get back?"

They nodded as the doors opened. Baraz and the pair exited while Mione rode the lift back up to the administrative levels.

In the clean room, Karin washed her hands thoroughly as assistants readied protective garments for her. Ouranos and Gaia went through a different door where they would be blasted with water and disinfectants. After a few minutes, they emerged in the lab and took their usual places on the exam tables.

Karin looked through the large faceplate of her suit across the main room. Twelve large canisters holding a thick, golden fluid lit the chamber. If she stared hard enough, she could discern the young beings within.
XVII

**CAESAR**

156 Years Before the End

The Caesar stood on the balcony and overlooked Viminal Square. Thousands of people lined every sidewalk and corner within sight. The cheers to the east were deafening and the leader turned toward them.

He stood, braced against the marble railings. The cables connecting him to his box were covered by his cape and the Praetorians behind him. He smiled and pretended to seem interested in all that transpired but his mind was elsewhere.

Doria. Dr. Karin Baraz. She and her team not only created artificially engineered bodies but they also developed brains that could have information inserted, including memories. It was the truest fulfillment yet of the Caesar's project. Not Donovan's robots. Not the living metal from that Nandian scientist.

"Was she on your watch list or not, doctor?" Caesar yelled two weeks before.

"She was, imperator," he answered, sheepishly. "But I regarded her efforts as inferior. Her expertise lied in the realm of cloning and I anticipated that her skill could go no further than the duplication of a body."

"You were in error," Caesar said. It didn't seem possible, but Donovan lowered his head more.

The closet on the other side of the room burst open. The man looked toward it and he watched the plastic and metal puppet of the Caesar lurch forth and stalk across the marble-patterned floor. He lifted an arm, partially obscured in a purple cape, and leveled a finger at the doctor.

"You have had years to solve this!" Though the machine's mouth was open, the Caesar's voice emanated from every corner of the room. "I am a tethered mannequin!" He pulled the cape from his shoulders and tossed it aside. "I am a child's toy soldier!" His fingers dug into the crease by his collarbone and he gripped the plastic panel. With a jerk, two parts of the chest came free and he threw them across the room. The metallic processors and machinery beneath were exposed and the Caesar held his hands under the hole to draw Donovan's gaze toward it. "I _cannot_... continue to pretend... that I am alive."

The doctor lowered himself to one knee and mumbled, "Yes, my lord."

"You have _teased_ me with this body!" he yelled. "With my mind, I can scour the Matrix and keep watch over nearly anything and anyone..." Caesar bent low so he could see more of the doctor's face, "but my box can't stand the extra labor. Heat builds up. My processors become cluttered. I was taunted with the promise of nearly infinite control and you took that from me as well."

"I beg your leave, lord, that I may continue my work."

He saw the waveform of Donovan's voice in his mind. The quivers and cracking were apparent. Caesar heard his fear and stood. He lifted the head of his puppet and said, "Go. Do not return until you have something to report." The doctor said nothing and backed out of the room.

Two weeks later, the Caesar's puppet stood again. The parade was only now beginning to reach the Square. Large screens were positioned strategically to show those beyond the curb what transpired. Millions at home could see it, too.

A Triumph. The first in more than fifty years. The last one was accorded to Caesar Maxentius IX himself, just four years before assuming office and fresh from his victory over the Atticans at Strand. He watched this one from his balcony... a break with tradition. Toma Marcus understood why, but the citizens wouldn't. Health reasons. That's what they were told.

Senators began their parade through the Square. Once the entire membership was standing before the balcony, they turned, pressed their fists against their hearts and bowed. The imperator also saluted with his fist yet he did not bow.

The Senators moved on and the trumpeters entered. They played and marched past until the white bulls came through. For a second, Caesar thought he may have missed the floats with the spoils until he remembered there were no spoils taken from Dogura or Jomon.

There were attacks from terrorists using Doguran ports. As ordered, the legions responded with force, destroying several coastal villages before intelligence found the culprits. Jomon nationalists, sneaking into their neighboring island nation to wreak havoc. To make things look better, the villages were said to be allied with the Jomoni. Some in the international media didn't believe this but it didn't matter. The legion moved to Jomon and did its duty there. Victory was assured before the first boot touched sand.

A cart moved before the balcony, holding the shackled perpetrators of the attacks. Terrorists not aligned with their government. They had been tried and convicted in Tiberian courts. Tomorrow, once the Triumph was complete, they would be executed. With the sword of the Magister stabbed into his desk, the president of Jomon was only too happy to comply and hand over all the information and people the invaders wanted.

Caesar thought again of Ouranos and Gaia. They seemed like any other people. He thought it possible that it was part of some elaborate Attican ruse, but his own intelligence consul confirmed Donovan's spy reports. Baraz was disenchanted with Attica. She was highly intelligent and capable. Her firm could have done this. A small team working for years had done it.

"I want them," Ceasar told Consul Carmen.

She shook her head, "Imperator, it would not be as simple as the Nandian operation."

"Why?"

"BBM has a great deal of security. The labs are below ground level. It would require a full military operation and not a simple extraction team."

Caesar was snapped from his memory by the thunderous roar of the crowd. The ancient chariot bearing High Legate Toma Marcus came around the corner and entered Viminal Square. Confetti and streamers were launched into the air and caught by the breeze. He wore his formal dress uniform, swathed in a purple toga as a symbol of the Caesar's approval. His face was not painted red; that was a privilege saved for the Triumph of an emperor. The mementic stood behind Marcus, holding the golden wreath above his head and saying the words that only a recipient of the Triumph would ever hear.

The chariot stopped before the balcony and the imperator spoke. "My Magister," the crowd quieted some, but they cheered at the use of the rare title. "High Legate Toma Marcus, Senator of Brixia..." A clutch of people in the crowd cheered loudly again. "Your fellow Senators have conferred upon you this great honor and I gladly bestow it." The people respectfully applauded and Marcus lowered his head. "From this day forward, Toma Marcus, you will be called Triumphator!" The Caesar cast his arms high and the people roared again.

Marcus put his fist against his chest and spoke loudly, "Thank you, Lord Imperator!"

The chariot lurched forward and carried him to the second half of his route. The soldiers of his primary company, without weapons, followed, bearing flowers and treats from the Iberian islands they raided. They cast them into the crowd and took more from the float in their midst.

The Caesar backed into his palace before the company finished their parade past the balcony. He moved his puppet to its closet while the attendants cleared the path of chairs and people.

"A spectacular Triumph, lord," Prefect Gallian said. The Caesar automaton didn't look at him. The man was nearly eighty and his weight was four times that. "Surely there will be more in the future."

While the body was snapped into place, the imperator pondered whether this was a question. "Of course there will be more Triumphs, prefect." The closet doors were pushed shut and the dozen or so elites turned their attention toward the blinking gray and black cube. "It is only a matter of time."

"Indeed, great Caesar," Prefect Titus said.

_Sycophants_ , the box thought. _Hangers on_.

"And the games, imperator?" Titus asked.

"Three days worth," the room's speakers crackled.

Gallian hobbled over on his cane and looked about the room. "Where is Doctor Donovan, lord? I had hoped to speak with him."

_Certainly you did_ , Caesar thought. "He is busy. Redoubling his efforts after recent events."

Gallian seemed disappointed. "I see."

"Hoping to buy your way into a cube like mine?" Caesar said.

The prefect stopped still and his lips parted. He made no sound but his eyes darted toward the other prefects. Caesar could see their expressions. They, too, wanted Donovan.

Gallian lowered his head and said, "Truthfully, Caesar, yes. I fear Crius may call me to his realm sooner than I am prepared."

"I appreciate your honesty." The prefects sighed and relaxed. "You may call on him with my blessings. Perhaps having more boxes to tend will spur him toward new horizons."

The prefects all bowed and thanked him. As they did, Caesar turned his mind toward the Triumph. Marcus still had a few kilometers remaining on his route before the feasts and parties of the night. The people clamored for him. A hero. Something they've not had for some time.

_If he sought to supplant me_ , he thought, _he could be victorious. I have no children. My brother is mad and in exile. A triumphator has taken over the line of succession before_...

_Lucius Sullivan_.

If the Caesar still had a mouth, he would have spat.

_I will keep Marcus within sight_.
XVIII

**THE MESSENGERS**

156 Years Before the End

In Ghattaffan, the female tender spent her time with Minah Gaber and her family. Nine people lived in a single, small home and they were all faithful to the tenets of Ramani beliefs.

This intrigued the Messenger. For a year, she observed and listened to all that these people did and thought. Their minds were turned toward "God" so often. Even when evidence did not point toward the intervention of a divine entity, it still was praised.

A few months ago when a drought gripped the area, the farmer for whom they all labored considered laying them off and not paying them. This could have meant their starvation so Minah and her family prayed constantly for rain. Six more days passed after the farmer told them of his dire situation before a drop fell. When it did, the family rejoiced and praised God for their fortunes. The farmer said he could keep them on, after all. The same storm caused flooding at a different farm and also swept away three people to their deaths. Somehow, though their deity got the credit for the rain and the good news, it was not blamed for the related deaths and destruction.

It was fascinating.

The Gabers were sitting down to their nightly meal. Meager, by most standards, but they smiled and were happy.

"Be quiet, Jarrek," Minah said. The young boy became still. "My God," she began, "we thank you so much for all that you have given us. Thank you for the fields and the food that comes from them. Thank you for the work that busies our hands and provides all we have. Thank you for the teachers who give our little ones their lessons."

She continued to pray but the Messenger left the common room and entered a dark bedroom nearby. There she found Nami, Minah's eleven-year-old daughter. She had a fever and an infection racked her lungs. She grew weaker each day. The tender stood near her and listened to her labored breathing. Then it stopped. The girl opened her eyes and she looked at the ceiling. Her breathing began again and she thought.

God, please make me better. I promise I will be good. I will do whatever you want. Please, make me better.

The Messenger heard Nami pray this way before. Her condition only worsened and her thoughts grew more plaintive. The tender searched the girl's mind and found that she was already "good." She committed no wrongs against others. There was teasing among her siblings and friends, but she repented of that and got their forgiveness. What more could she do?

Nami's eyes drifted to the left and the Messenger felt that they landed on her.

A flood of thoughts befell her. She was a being beyond their understanding. Could she cure the child? She looked within the girl's lungs and saw the infection. The tender could eradicate it all... but that would be too much. "Subtle urgings," she had said. To interfere so directly would run counter to their mission. She peered through the haze and saw no outcome where Nami survived and contributed to the tree beyond her few years.

The door opened and Minah came in. "Hello," she whispered. The girl smiled and tried to sit up, but her mother touched her shoulder and shushed her. "Stay still. Chicken broth tonight."

"Good," Nami said.

As the girl sipped from the spoon, Minah thought, _Please, God, make my child well._ She paused and then thought, _If it is not part of your plan,... I will try to understand._

The Messenger was again intrigued. A belief in a kind of predestination. That this "God" has a plan for all beings. The tender wondered at this and thought of The One and the Plan to which the duo was committed.

She resisted the urge to intervene this time. The Plan was for the continuation of life, even though this child's life would end.

The male tender was again drawn to conflict. He found it daily in the shattered nation of Susso. Regions of the southern continent were ruled by petty tyrants and the central government was powerless to stop them. After centuries of mining, their deposits of gold had been exhausted yet their spending continued unabated. Decades passed and the people suffered as a lack of work and support fell. The malicious took control.

The Messenger saw it repeatedly. One warlord espoused a view of his deity using holy works as justification and rampaged over the plains. Thousands were killed, including many who believed in the same deity, yet their interpretation of the same holy books led them to be passive. Another man raised an army among his neighbors and took to the streets to execute any he felt to be "impure," those who happened to be a few shades too light skinned. A woman ruled the foothills and commanded loyalty with the edge of her grain-harvesting blade. She engendered devotion among her followers and repaid it with kindness, but many heads toppled from shoulders before that respect came to her from those outside her group.

In the village of Krina, the familes of farmers huddled in stone homes. A group of marauders, several of whom were children, entered town with rifles, torches, and swords. The tender stood and watched.

"Go left!" the leader shouted. "Go right!" he said to another part of his group. The men fanned out and one threw the flame onto a thatched roof. As smoke billowed, people inside began to scream.

The Messenger went to the gang's leader and listened to his thoughts. _Good well. Clean stream. Much better than in the south where the water is still poisoned from the mines. Strong homes. We can live here easily_. "No more fire!" he shouted.

Three women darted from the home with the burning roof. The men dropped to one knee and began to shoot. Bullets danced on the stone walls and ripped the women's flesh. Screaming erupted from elsewhere in the village and more people ran from their homes. All of the men stopped and began to fire.

The tender drifted among the bullets and toward the homes. He had seen it so many times that he didn't get emotional about it any longer.

Emotional. An interesting word for him. It barely applied to a being of his kind but he couldn't deny the... feelings as he witnessed the violence he had over the past year.

Farmers, drawn by the gunfire, ran through the fields to the village. They were snatched up quickly and dragged toward the leader.

"What is the name of this place?"

The older man he asked didn't answer.

The leader whipped his arm forward and the edge of his blade sliced through his throat. Redness gushed and sprayed into the air. He pointed the long dagger at the next man and said, "You?"

"Krina. It's called Krina."

The leader nodded and said, "I will like it here." His fighters laughed and the farmer struggled a bit.

"Why are you here? What have we done?"

The leader leaned over and said, "God told us to come here. He said you had a nice place and," he stood, spreading his arms wide, "God was not wrong." The men and boys laughed again.

More people ran from their homes and they were fired upon. The captive farmers struggled and screamed.

The Messenger found one home with people still inside. Two women and three children. He stood in the middle of the room and thought about what awaited them if they fled. He turned his attention toward the invaders and saw that they were occupied now, beating the remaining men. Some now pulled surviving women to the leader. They would be raped.

He bent low and whispered to the women in this house. "Go. Into the tall grass."

They looked at each other and they stood up. As soon as they did, they hesitated and then crouched low.

"Go," he said again. They didn't move. This 'urging' wasn't enough. Fear still gripped them.

He straightened up and paused. The Messenger then did something he had not done before.

He made himself visible.

His form was white. It carried a light within it but it was not blinding. He seemed to be man-high, but with no discernable limbs. His head was without a face but it turned to look at the cowering people.

The women were taken aback and the children began to scream. Their mothers cupped their hands over the little ones' mouths.

In the most minute span of time, the tender looked into the women's minds. He saw that they were sisters and they had been thinking of their father. As quickly as he had appeared, he shifted his guise to this man they loved.

He leaned forward and said with urgency in his voice, "Go! Run into the grass! They won't see if you hurry!"

The mothers were shocked but they scooped up the children and ran for the door. They opened it, crouched low and ran to the rear of the home and then into the meter-high grass beyond the village. They were not spotted.

The Messenger gave up the visage of their father and followed them. Moments later, they encountered other farmers who were rushing toward the town. They knelt in the grass and tearfully shared all that happened. They stifled their cries and remorsefully turned away from Krina and moved to another neighboring village.

The tender watched them go. He thought again about what he did. It was a decision made hastily, but it worked. Using the appearance of someone known to the subject worked far better than the occasional urgings he employed in the past.

That their father had been dead for ten years didn't seem to matter.
XIX

**OURANOS**

154 Years Before the End

He waved the device over her body. When he looked at the screen, he saw nothing.

"At it again?" a lab technician asked.

Ouranos pushed a few buttons and said, "Yes."

The man shook his head. "Next time we work on you, we'll have to remove your stubborn gland."

Ouranos ignored him and leaned over the tank. Inside, a woman's body was suspended in a golden ichor and thin wires led from the back of her head and into a processor nearby. He held up a pane of glass and read the information that scrolled across it. As he put it back down, he heard Karin Baraz on the other side of the lab.

"Bring it higher. Higher."

Ouranos looked and he saw several people crowded around a container. A body was strapped to a slab and the golden liquid streamed off him and down into the tank.

"That's good," Baraz said. "Let's get a reading first." They lifted their devices and scanned the man.

As he watched them work, Ouranos stared at Karin. He felt a twinge of nostalgia, though he didn't know to identify it as such. He missed his long hours with her and Gaia, just the three of them. Certainly, much of that time was spent with him and Gaia on an exam table, but Baraz spoke to them like people. She seemed to care. Now that the others were getting ready, Karin became more absent.

Ouranos sighed and looked down at the woman in his tank. She was attractive, like all the other new ones. Thin with long, light brown hair. He heard steps behind him and as he turned, the technician named Kandall pulled his left arm up.

"What are you doing?" Ouranos barked.

Kandall seemed surprised. "I need to examine one of the nodes in your arm." He furrowed his brow and scoffed dismissively.

Ouranos stood and towered over the man. He leaned forward and spoke softly but firmly. "Ask."

Kandall's eyes widened and he swallowed. "May I... scan your arm nodes?"

Ouranos nodded and stretched his limb out.

Kandall swept a device around the wrist, then the elbow and then the shoulder before walking away.

Ouranos turned back to his instruments and said under his breath, "You're welcome."

He looked into the tank and held his computer over the liquid. The readings still weren't there. He shook his head and pressed another button. _One more time_. A light flashed on the unit and he pressed it. The information was sent.

Ouranos waited.

Beep.

The device illuminated and a waveform showed a strong signal. He stood and smiled broadly. He looked into the tank and removed the wires from the body's head. He flicked his hand side to side throwing streams of the liquid against the walls of glass. He pressed another button and the signal remained strong.

"Ouranos," Gaia said, "they're waking him."

"Just a minute," he said.

Gaia glanced at the propped up being on the far side of the room and then walked toward Ouranos. "How are things?"

"Very good." He held the unit so she could read it.

Her eyes looked at the graph and she nodded as the signal's strength remained high. She turned to the tank and saw that no wires were connected to the body. "Remarkable." Ouranos smiled again. "Range?"

"With this reading," he shrugged, "hundreds of kilometers. I'm sure I can extend that even farther."

Gaia smiled and put her hand on Ouranos' arm. "You did it! Very good work." She looked into the tank and said, "Very good."

He inhaled deeply and wiped the gel on the side of his work pants. "You helped."

"Just a little." She smiled again and patted his arm. "Come on. Let's wake him up and then we can tell everyone what you've done."

He nodded and they walked to the opposite side of the lab. A couple dozen doctors and technicians had gathered around the tank. Baraz placed leads on the body's broad chest and two other techs connected wires to their medical equipment. She then put a pad on either one of his temples and nodded to Dr. Hikka. With a syringe, he injected a liquid into an intravenous line and it worked its way through the tubing and into the body.

A few moments later, Cronus' eyes opened.

He blinked a few times and looked around. It took a moment, but he began to focus on people. First Dr. Baraz, then Dr. Hikka, then toward the ceiling. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"Take your time," Baraz said. "Whisper."

He tried to move his head toward her, but he couldn't. His muscles were artificially toned but he had never moved them himself. He jerked his left arm and it flailed against the restraints. He licked his lips in vain and said, "Is this real?"

Karin smiled and said, "Yes. You're awake."

He relaxed and slumped against the slab before taking a deep breath.

As the others applauded lightly and spoke among themselves, Ouranos thought. _The first of the Titans._ He glanced back toward his work area. _Their memories can last beyond one body, thanks to Mnemosyne._ He lifted his hand toward his face and braced his right elbow on his folded left arm. He brushed his lips with his forefinger and thought, _I still don't like the name Homo sapiens telios. Psychically Linked Organism... Psionically Linked Organism... Either one is better_.
XX

**CAESAR**

154 Years Before the End

The main throne room was bright. Sun poured through tall decorative windows. The white marble reflected that light onto wide columns and ancient, colorful tapestries. At the northern end of the room, a platform raised upon a series of steps used to hold the emperor's large marble chair. Now only Maxentius' cube sat there, deep in thought.

"Thanks to your openness in trade, imperator," Prefect Gallian said, "my holdings in those firms have swelled beyond my greatest expectations."

The Caesar didn't respond.

Prefect Etne couldn't bear the silence and spoke, "The recovery from the recent downturn seems near an end."

"Indeed."

"Tiberia, of course, is one of the few to have emerged so soon," Etne said. "Your economic policies, lord, have kept our ship aright."

Pause. "Indeed," the leader answered.

Caesar had remained in his box for days on end. Needing no sleep, he dove headlong into the mass of the Matrix, pursuing as many avenues of knowledge and intelligence as he could.

Gallian stretched his leg and relied on his thick staff to keep his girth upright. "What of Huban?"

Prefect Lucanus waved his hand dismissively. "They are as they were. Not bowed by the dip yet buoyed by the rise."

"They are growing powerful," Gallian said. He kept his focus on the Caesar's cube and its indicator lights. They were constantly blinking but there was no indication that he would respond.

Only occasionally did the imperator stop and rest his mind. It was only needed to prevent the box from overheating. Donovan said he was working on that, too.

"Huban's return is remarkable," Etne said. "They cast their lot in science and continue to reap benefits."

Lucanus grunted, "Their spaceships put on a fine show but what good does it do the world?"

Etne was about to answer when Gallian interrupted, "Have any of you spoken with Ryall recently?"

The other prefects lifted their heads and glanced toward the great box. Cleon answered first, "I know he was tending to Titus. She will depart this life soon."

"And her cube? Is it finished?"

Cleon shrugged. "I do not know." He looked at Caesar, hoping he would have more information.

Instead, his attention was cast toward Brixia in northern Tiberia. He watched the movements of Triumphator Toma Marcus very carefully. He made public appearances and entertained prominent guests. He wore the golden necklace as a symbol of that auspicious title. He did meet people in secret.

Those he met in secret were businessmen who didn't want their plans known. They were religious leaders who vainly sought support for some social issue or another. They were military leaders seeking funding and personnel for some new pet project.

Not once had the subject of Marcus becoming Caesar been broached. For two years, Maxentius observed and studied the man and found nothing to concern him.

_I have wasted my time_ , Caesar thought. _I knew Marcus was a good man._

He kept his contingency plans in place. He still monitored the triumphator's secret meetings. He kept tabs on his travel arrangements.

It would take only a thought... a defect planted in the rotor controls of a gyrocopter. A flaw in the programming of an aeroplane's engine operations. I can still eliminate him, if I need to.

"The Senate is meeting this week," Lucanus said. "What items are on their agenda?"

Gallian shrugged, "Doguran reimbursement, for one."

"Pah," Cleon said. "We concern ourselves overmuch with our image among the world."

Lucanus smiled and continued, "New military contracts for the biennium."

The prefects smiled and nodded. "Good, good," Gallian said. "Good news for us all."

"I am intrigued by a measure that would divert funds to a covert Matrix operation," Etne said.

"You would be interested in that," Cleon said. "You've made your mote with computers and surveillance." Etne smiled and nodded.

The Caesar turned his mind away from Toma Marcus and toward Doria. There was a great, black hole in his vision of that nation. BBM remained impenetrable to him. Perhaps that new covert monitoring program would provide answers.

_There lies my best hope_ , he thought.
XXI

**AHLJAELA**

149 Years Before the End

He moved the finished plastic forms slowly. His mind was on other things.

Mar dropped the pieces in the bin and walked back toward the press. He looked around the factory floor and spotted the others who promised to work with him. There were three on the conveyor line. Two by the initial press. Two more by the second. One with him at the final press. Four in the sorting area... they were all around.

Ahljaela looked up toward the small windows near the roof in the cavernous space. The sun was beginning to enter the second pane on the corner. It was almost time.

He pressed the green button on his panel and more forms came off the press. He scooped them aside and waited for more. He glanced over at Kerne. Mar didn't know him well but he agreed to help.

The thought festered in his mind for so long. The fire two years ago, though, brought others to his attention. The roof on building two at Siler River Plastics collapsed and killed nearly one hundred people. The government investigated and Siler paid their fines. They rebuilt the factory and put people back to work as though nothing happened.

The others agreed with him. Something needed to change.

He made only twenty-four denars. Barely enough to match expenses at home now. They had to sell more and more of their things. More of their crops. They made do with less food and lesser quality of it.

Mar looked up at the window. The sun wasn't in position just yet.

_Am I doing the right thing?_ That thought occurred to him all day every day for the last two weeks. He never discussed this with Laphé. His wife might not understand. She was still distracted with her duties running the house and raising the children. Things were easier for her, now that her father had passed. He was an invalid and abusive. Less stress for her with him gone.

But what if Mar was fired?

There were other factories. Two more opened near Gargamus after Siler River Plastics did. Of course, Ahljaela knew nothing about how they were run and if the workers fared any better.

He took several more pieces to the sorting bins. As he walked back, he looked at the window. The sun was perfectly framed. It was time.

Mar stood by his panel and looked across to Kerne. They locked eyes and then Ahljaela turned and caught the gaze of his comrades. A couple nodded. Others seemed nervous. He understood that.

He left his station and walked toward the center of the factory floor. There was an open space between one of the conveyor belts and the ring of presses. He looked at his feet and didn't lift his head until he was in the middle. More than a dozen fellow workers joined him there.

Mar's skin flushed hot and he felt a bit lightheaded. His cheeks tingled and he grinned just for a moment before he reached up to his top button and undid it. The others did the same. Two dozen people were now huddled in the center of the floor and they pulled down their tops to reveal a plain white shirt underneath with a single word scrawled across the chest.

Ahljaela nodded and the group turned to face their co-workers.

Their shirts read, "Coalition."

Mar looked out to see everyone's reaction but instead he saw the eyes of the plant's security chief. He was tall and not very muscular. He wore bulky clothes and carried a baton. Today he was holding a handgun and Ahljaela barely noticed it. He was staring into the chief's dark eyes under bushy brows.

Several people on the other side of the circle didn't see the growing security presence and they began to chant, "Coalition now! Coalition now!"

Mar's heart beat hard in his chest. His light-headedness returned and he opened his mouth to speak.

The chief pulled the trigger.

The bullet entered Ahljaela's forehead and cracked the rear of his skull. Mist and pink matter sprayed briefly from his black hair before his body collapsed to the concrete floor. It wept a large pool of redness, quickly at first, but then slowly until it encircled his head.

The report of the weapon echoed in the room, overpowering the loudest machines. Even those who didn't see what was going on looked now.

The members of the circle broke formation and moved away. Members of the chief's squad slapped them across their faces and heads with batons. They collapsed to the floor and were kicked for several moments until the chief snapped his fingers.

A foreman stepped up and tossed down a batch of papers. "You're all fired." He looked around the factory and caught the wide eyes of the other employees. "If anyone else mentions the 'c-word,'" he yelled, "they won't escape punishment as easily as this lot did." Security then picked up the protestors and their papers before dragging them toward the exits.

On his way off the factory floor, the foreman stopped by Kerne who held his head low. Though he wore a "coalition" shirt under his canvas suit, it remained covered up. The foreman handed him a ten-denar bill and said, "Thank you."
XXII

**CRONUS**

148 Years Before the End

"I told you!" he said. "They did it anyway!"

Cronus was standing in a darkened room. The only light was golden and it emanated from the dozens of casks that surrounded him on the floor. Inside each was a spare body for one of them.

"Three copies of us all," he said. He knocked on the glass and pointed back toward Hyperion. "There you are." He walked a few paces and saw another. "And again."

"You're overreacting," Iapetus said.

"I don't believe I am." He stopped, turned and rested his bottom against a case that held a duplicate of Phoebe. She raised her eyebrow at the unconscious gesture. "It's that memory restructuring fiasco all over again."

"They told us this wouldn't happen," Rhea said. "Dr. Baraz said, just last month, they would not be making more copies of us."

"I still don't see the issue," Iapetus said. "If something were to happen to us, our consciousness would be transferred to one of them." He looked at his colleagues and couldn't catch anyone's gaze. "It's a great gift. Why wouldn't we want it?"

"You haven't heard them talking, have you?" Oceanus said.

Theia nodded, "I did. Three days ago, Biv and Aemon were talking about more experiments. Narrowing down a... chromosome problem. Biv said they could take us apart and put us together again. Aemon laughed."

Iapetus' eyes lowered. He inhaled deeply and said, softly, "Dr. Baraz has been good to us. She respects us. She talks to us like... we are people, too."

Cronus shook his head. "Baraz is the one who keeps us on the tables. She's the one who gives the orders."

A small woman slowly raised her hand. They turned toward her and Cronus smiled before giving her a nod. Mnemosyne spoke and said, "I don't mind being experimented on... not really." A few scoffed and shook their heads. Mnemosyne looked at Cronus. He didn't balk. He lifted his eyebrows and nodded again, urging her to continue. "We were created to help people. Dr. Hikka tells me all the time about new drugs or new procedures that they do now. We've helped thousands of people."

Cronus lifted his head and said, "We have. And we can still help people... even if we're treated with respect and not lied to." He stood and walked again between the rows of bodies. "The money has started to flow. Baraz and Hikka aren't here like they used to be. We're left with the pokers and the prodders." Several of the Psilons nodded. "When they need a sample, stick." He slapped his arm. "They don't bother to ask."

Iapetus and Mnemosyne were still. Judging by the puffed out chests of Rhea, Crius, Oceanus, Hyperion and Phoebe, he had more than a few supporters.

Coeus spoke, saying, "They gave us these great minds, but they won't let us use them."

Cronus smiled. "There is one fundamental flaw in their thinking." He stopped and turned. "One problem with their plans." No one spoke. After he looked at each person, he said, "They made us better."

"They did."

The group turned toward the entrance and saw Ouranos standing there. His hands were folded behind his back and he was looking at Cronus.

"Father," he said. "Good of you to join us."

Ouranos walked past the group and toward their leader. "What are you doing in here?"

Cronus smiled and said, "Just examining our Psilon brothers and sisters. Our twins. Triplets."

Ouranos stood a bit taller than the man and he lowered his head some. "And this surprises you?"

"'Surprise,'" Cronus said, "may be a strong word."

Ouranos nodded and glanced down into the golden liquid. "They made you better than themselves. You give them something to strive toward."

Cronus smiled and said, "Yes."

"But there's something you shouldn't forget."

The Psilon's eyes narrowed and he asked, "What's that?"

Ouranos leaned forward and said, "You're not alone." Then he grinned, turned and walked toward the door.

Cronus began to follow him out. "You? You're old technology. First generation."

Ouranos slowed and nodded a few times. He spoke over his shoulder and waved toward the canisters. "True. But don't think you can't be replaced." He then turned all the way around and braced himself against the door without pushing it open. "Or made obsolete." He leaned back and then exited.

Cronus remained in the middle of the room, surrounded by his people.
XXIII

**DONOVAN**

148 Years Before the End

"I don't know how much longer I can hold on," Constance said.

Ryall was leaning against the railing of the boat, watching the birds fly at the fish in the ocean. "Your son is ten now."

"Yes," she said. She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair and crossed her legs. "Julian Crispus Valerius." Donovan nodded. "He has been studying... extensively."

"Good."

"He will make a good Caesar."

The doctor turned toward her and then sighed. "Faustus?"

Now she sighed. "He holds on. His mind is nearly gone but he remains."

Ryall turned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Five years to go. Still."

She shook her head. "If he dies before we're ready, I am worried what Max may do."

"The Caesar would feel an obligation to you. To his nephew." She nodded and Donovan continued. "You would stay on Arba, in all likelihood."

"Just as well," she said. There was a long pause. They watched the waves and listened to the birds. Constance felt there was something else to be said. "And you?"

Ryall lowered his head. "I have delayed progress as long as I can." He raised his hands and slowly pulled them apart. "I am torn between making this work and in satisfying my own curiosity. My knowledge."

She quinted and shook her head. "There is no contest."

"I know." He dropped his arms and said, "Still, by dawdling further I will draw the Caesar's eye, I know it. He is... his sight is far reaching now. His mind can go places no other can."

"Why doesn't he help you then?"

"He does. He has given me several ideas and plans. They worked, of course."

Constance sipped from her water bottle. "Does he have a body?"

"A robotic puppet. Better than before, but still. I've held off on minituarization for too long. I'm afraid he will grow suspicious."

"And these prefects?"

Donovan smiled. "They pay me to put their minds in a box. Like the Caesar's. That is no problem for me. It's a welcome distraction, though."

She looked toward the sky and noticed the orange hue. The sun was about to set. "I'll need to leave shortly." Ryall nodded. "What about these people... the ones made in labs in Doria?"

The doctor rolled his eyes. He bent over to grab the anchoring rope. He straightened up and looked at his small craft moored alongside Constance's boat. "A true nail in my foot. They give Caesar hope. I've managed to talk him away from there for a bit, but I don't know how much longer I can."

"If they can grow bodies and move memories around... of course Max would want that."

Donovan turned and shrugged. "Of course. I don't know what else to do. Hopefully they won't be making any more announcements for a while. The last thing I need is for his attention to be drawn toward them again."
XXIV

**CAESAR**

148 Years Before the End

It was nearly midnight. As he often had, Caesar spent the late evening in an idle mode, allowing his processors to cool while his cube sat undisturbed atop the marble stairs of his main throne room. As usual, his day was spent scouring all of Larsa. Looking for information. Gathering knowledge.

In this state, Caesar let his mind wander. Frequently, he remembered times spent with his family decades ago. Hunting in the Gargano Forest with his brother and father. His recall was impeccable. Voices were precise and it seemed as though he were taken back in time with the memory. But even this had its flaws. Because the memories were made with his original organic mind, there were gaps. Great swaths of the landscape were merely colored smears. Background noises were muffled and indistinct. There were leaps and spaces. He didn't remember what vehicle brought them to the forest, so in his recollection, they left the palace at Viminal Square and arrived instantly in Gargano. It didn't matter. The memory was still pleasing.

He remembered vacationing on Arba with his wife, Mila. _Mila. She was so beautiful_. He was nearly fifty when she and their son were killed in that accident. In his mind, his processors began to reconstruct the crash scene and Caesar had to will it away.

Caesar then forced himself to recall happier times. Parties after great battles. _Well, only one great battle_. Strand. An amphibious assault followed by weeks of jungle warfare against entrenched Atticans. It was hard won with thousands of Tiberian casualties. Hot, sweaty days. The smell of fire and gunpowder. He wasn't there for all of it, but he was there.

A thick jungle leaf brushed his cheek. His boot squished into the mud and he grabbed a tribune's shoulder to pull himself free. He looked around and felt _there_. Smears of color dotted his surroundings where his memories couldn't provide details, but everything else seemed real. He moved ahead quickly and found himself in the command tent with an Attican officer on his knees. Caesar held a sword to the man's throat and smiled.

"I hope I'm not waking you."

The imperator's sensors stirred and looked toward the source of the voice. At the far side of the room, he saw Faustus Valerius. His brother.

"I know it's late," he said as he stepped forward across the lush, dark red carpet. "I felt like I needed to talk to you, though."

The lights on Caesar's cube illuminated and his processors blazed with activity. _How?_

"How are you?" the old man asked.

The speakers in the room spoke softly. "Well. You?"

Faustus nodded. "Me too." He slowly put one foot on the bottom step and began to ascend. After a few straining moments, he reached the top and knelt down in front of the box. He groaned as he did so. "You've looked better."

Caesar remembered hearing that before. Faustus said it to him after a horse accident. And again after the Battle of Strand. And again after his first stroke. His mind probed the Matrix and he looked toward Arba. He tried to tap into the security system there but found only static and dead ends. _Could this be him?_

"What brings you here?" the imperator asked.

Faustus shrugged and plopped onto the marble platform. "Old age." He chuckled and then said, "I feel... done. Spent."

"I understand."

Caesar looked into the Matrix again. He looked for aeroplane manifests, boat logs, vehicle rentals, Arba security reports. He found no mention of Faustus' movements.

"How is Constance?" His brother nodded. "And my nephew?"

"Both are well." He breathed deeply and said, "I've thought a lot about you lately, Max."

"I see."

"It's true. You're on the news, of course. Your portraits are all over the villa. It's hard to get you out of my mind."

The Caesar again looked toward Arba. No success.

He was about to speak but he paused. "You seem lucid. Moreso than I had been led to believe."

Faustus grinned a little. "I have good days and bad. Today is good." Caesar's processing lights came on again and remained on. Cooling fans engaged and Faustus nodded toward the indicators. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"You." Caesar probed the Matrix again. He still found nothing.

Faustus wiped his mouth and said, "Why?"

Caesar stopped his searching and turned all his attention toward the elderly man squatting on his platform. "I am not certain you are my brother."

Faustus leaned back and laughed loudly. It sounded familiar to the imperator. The man clapped his hands together twice and said, "Of course it's me."

"Prove it."

Faustus finished his laughter and sniffled. He glanced toward the distant floor, licked his lips and said, "As you wish. Ask me whatever you want."

Caesar thought for just a second. "The Gargano Forest."

"Yes."

"I was eleven and we went hunting with Dad."

Faustus smiled, "I remember."

"How many points were on the buck I shot?"

The old man chuckled and wagged his finger at the cube. "You think you're tricky, huh?" The speakers didn't answer. "You told everyone it was a ten-pointer..."

"It was."

"No, it wasn't," Faustus said. "It was a sixer." Caesar was quiet. "I shot a ten-pointer and you only got the six, so... so you ran back to town, yelling about the ten-pointer _you_ shot..."

"Incorrect," Caesar said.

"No!" Faustus barked. His face flashed with anger. Then his cheeks became rosy and his lip curled on one end. "You told everyone about _my_ buck and when I got back to town with Dad, they believed you. No one believed me."

Caesar's lights flickered as he recalled the story.

Faustus' voice got soft. "I told Dad, I said, 'Daddy, Max is lying. I got the ten-pointer.'"

The imperator's lights stopped when the memory was recalled to its fullest in his mind.

"And do you know what Dad said to me?"

The speakers answered, "'This is a lesson in leadership. Be bold. If to be bold you have to lie, you must own that lie.'"

Faustus smiled and nodded. "Yep."

"He taught me that lesson on another occasion."

His brother leaned forward and scratched behind his ear. "Wait..." He jerked his head upright and said, "When you broke that ancient Attican vase."

"Yes."

Faustus nodded. "You took that lesson to heart. So well you believe your own horseshit."

Caesar nearly laughed. He paused for a moment while the vision of the memory drifted from his mind's eye.

"Why are you here, brother?"

Faustus smiled and said, "You know, I never envied you." He crossed his legs under himself. "I... never really wanted to be Caesar so it's just as well that you have been for so long." He put his elbow on his right knee and held his chin in his hand. "You've been... a good leader."

Caesar didn't respond. He studied his older brother as much as he could. He listened for each breath. He watched every muscle movement.

"You remember when I went to Gela to put down the insurgency?"

The cube answered, "Yes."

"So boring. Nasty business, too." Faustus sniffled and continued, "That was the first time I tried hulgill, you know."

"I remember."

He rubbed his forearm up toward his elbow. He lingered there and stroked the old skin. "I was using that stuff for years." He smacked his arm and looked up at the box. "You try something like that once, when you're young, just to try it. But do you know why I kept using it after that?"

Caesar didn't answer.

Faustus smiled. "Because I was stupidly hopeful that the next time would be just as good as the first time." He chuckled a little and continued, "It never was. Never close."

The imperator was silent. He continued to observe Faustus. He made no move to speak again. The Caesar asked, "Why are you here?"

His brother grinned and said, "Old age." The lights flickered once. "My life is almost over. I've had it good. Really, I have."

"I'm glad."

Faustus nodded. He reached up and put his hand on the corner of the gray and black box. His fingers glided on the plastic and he let them fall down the edge. He sighed and said, "You're stuck in there... trying to shoot life into veins you don't even have anymore." Silence. "No matter how hard you try, Max, you won't be able to match that first time."

Again, silence.

Faustus retracted his arm and sat up straight. His pleasant smile vanished and his mouth became a straight line. "It's past time to go, Max. You'll be happier. Tiber will carry on just fine."

Caesar was dumbfounded. His processors worked but no response came.

Faustus rolled to one side and grunted. He put his feet down on the top step, pushed himself up and strained to stand erect. He placed his hands on the small of his back and stretched. When he stopped, his eyes looked over the cube once more and he said, "Take care."

Slowly, the old man descended the stairs and shuffled across the red carpet toward the opulent doors. Caesar watched and studied him as he moved. Faustus pulled the door open and walked into the hallway. He didn't hear his guards react. _Why did they let him in?_

The imperator entered the palace's security system and scanned the corridors. Faustus was nowhere to be found. He reversed the video for hours and never saw his brother enter. _Where did he go?_

His processors whirred again. He tried futilely to contact Arba. Only static greeted him. He kept an eye on the security systems and on Tiber's outgoing transportation just in case he was spotted.

_Illogical_ , he thought. _Faustus is an invalid. That could not have been him, despite... everything._ He scanned and continued to think. _Who was that?_
XXV

**THE MESSENGERS**

148 Years Before the End

"Why are you here, brother?" Caesar asked.

The male tender, cloaked in the guise of Faustus Valerius, smiled.

"Why are you here?" the female tender asked. She only now appeared in the marble room and kept herself invisible to the sensors of the being known as Caesar.

"You know, I never envied you." The image of the old man crossed his legs.

As though he grew a second mouth, the male tender spoke from underneath his costume. "I saw an opportunity for intervention."

The female tender moved about the room and examined the cube. "It is too soon. We have not sufficiently practiced with the people nor prepared sufficient contingencies."

Faustus said, "I... never really wanted to be Caesar so it's just as well that you have been for so long. You've been... a good leader."

The male spoke, saying, "The opportunity presented itself. They must be seized upon when possible."

"He is suspicious," the female said, peering inside the box. "He suspects subterfuge."

"I have already assuaged those concerns," he answered.

The old man asked, "You remember when I went to Gela to put down the insurgency?"

"Temporarily assuaged," the Messenger said. "Your choice of his brother is problematic."

"Not necessarily," he answered. "The only other candidates are otherwise engaged and constantly under this one's surveillance. I could not choose a deceased form. He would be too skeptical and immovable."

The Caesar answered, "Yes."

"So boring. Nasty business, too." The male tender delved into the past and grasped at threads of memory from further down the tree. "That was the first time I tried hulgill, you know."

"I remember."

The female tender alighted by his side. "I am uneasy."

"I have had success with this method."

The apparition of Faustus rubbed his forearm up toward his elbow and then stroked the old skin. "I was using that stuff for years." He smacked his arm and looked up at the box. "You try something like that once, when you're young, just to try it. But do you know why I kept using it after that?"

The female rose again and looked about the room. "You have underestimated this one. The outcomes are beginning to come into focus."

The disguised tender ignored her and the Caesar's silence. "Because I was stupidly hopeful that the next time would be just as good as the first time." He chuckled a little and continued, "It never was. Never close."

As he finished saying it, he saw what his companion was referring to. Echoes and shadows of events to come coalesced about him in this chamber. The image of many futures' emperors took different forms and different people entered the room. While there remained many possible outcomes, the path began to narrow.

The Caesar asked, "Why are you here?"

Then the Messenger saw that things narrowed in a direction he did not desire. Still, he maintained the charade.

"Old age," he said. "My life is almost over. I've had it good. Really, I have."

"You see it now?" the female asked.

"I do." There was a long silence. "I have erred."

"I'm glad," Caesar said.

The female moved about the room again, turning her head from side to side as though she were looking into the shadows through the corners of her eyes. "You must hurry."

The Messenger reached forth and let his costume's hand touch the cube. "You're stuck in there... trying to shoot life into veins you don't even have anymore." Continuing with his ploy was a gamble. "No matter how hard you try, Max, you won't be able to match that first time."

Silence settled on the three of them.

Faustus then said, "It's past time to go, Max. You'll be happier. Tiber will carry on just fine."

The female tender whispered toward the male, "You fool."

"It was a risk I had to take," he answered.

The being struggled to stand and began to leave the chamber. "Take care," he said to the box and he descended the marble stairs.

He made Caesar see his older brother opening the doors and step into the corridor, when in fact the disguise vanished and the two Messengers remained in the room.

"You have goaded him."

The male moved toward the cube again and looked inside. "I have left a thought behind that will haunt him for the remainder of his days."

"But in that remainder," she said, "he will take actions he may not have otherwise."

The other watched and listened to the imperator's thoughts. "There is still a chance."

"The Caesar commands too large a portion of the tree," she said. "His decisions can bow its branches too far."

"With that I agree."

She began to drift from the throne room when she saw a new future echo appear. "It seems as though you have accelerated some events, too."

The male turned and saw the ghostly forms. He lowered his head and said, "Yes."

As they departed, the Messenger grew remorseful and asked, "How then can we preserve free will and encourage life if our actions are insufficient for the most powerful of these people?"

The female had no response.
XXVI

**GAIA**

147 Years Before the End

They strolled together under the trees outside Pausa. The air was cool but pleasant. The breeze carried the scent of the flowers that covered the fences dozens of meters away.

Gaia looked at her feet and shuffled alongside Ouranos. It was after midnight and the grounds of BBM's compound were well lit. Their walks had become more infrequent in recent years, but with the attentions of the researchers drawn toward Cronus and the others, there seemed to be less for these first two beings to do. So they began to walk again.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

Ouranos inhaled deeply and shrugged. "Things I need to do tomorrow."

She scoffed. "Like what?"

"I'm still working on transceivers for the pods." She laughed but he kept talking. "I had some ideas about computer processors, too."

"Thanks to your transmitters?"

"Yes." Gaia nodded and Ouranos spoke again. "I'm also... still thinking about something Cronus said earlier today."

She rolled her eyes. "What now?"

He tilted his head to one side. "Maybe it was more about how he said it." He paused and then continued. "Someone took a blood sample from him and did a quick test right there. The man, Aemon, looked at his scanner and said, 'You guys are just amazing.' Cronus laughed and said, 'I know.'" Ouranos looked over at Gaia. "He said, 'I know,' but in a way that unsettled me."

Gaia knew what he meant. Ever since they were awakened, she felt ill at ease around the Psilons. They were filled with so much information and knowledge yet they lacked basic human concepts. Tact, for one.

"That's what we get for naming them after the gods."

Ouranos laughed and said, "We were named after gods, my dear."

Gaia smiled and reached tentatively for his hand before withdrawing it. "But we were overthrown. The Titans ruled the Golden Age. Cronus and his Pantheon... they gave humanity all its gifts."

Ouranos reached up and tugged on the leaves from a low-hanging branch. "Myths."

Gaia looked toward the wall and noted the observation tower before looking at Ouranos. He wore his usual dark overcoat. He seemed so handsome.

"Why haven't we ever..." She stopped walking and Ouranos did, too. "Gotten together?"

He raised his eyebrows and said, "They tested our gametes. They said we were incompatible."

She shook her head. "I know. I meant, just for ourselves. For companionship."

Ouranos' shoulders lifted as though he braced himself against a cold wind. He squinted and said, "I never felt that way."

Gaia nodded and started to turn when he grabbed her arm.

"I've never felt that way about anyone. Not just you." His face hovered above hers and she could see deep into his eyes. "They made me wrong, I guess. Manipulating my neurons..."

Gaia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on his lips. He didn't flinch. When she withdrew, she saw that his face was as it appeared before and now his eyes showed only confusion.

She nodded and said, "Don't worry about it."

They walked away from the trees and back toward the doors. Ouranos spoke softly, "I fear that Cronus is right."

"About what?"

"Many things." Gaia didn't respond. "They are better, of course," Ouranos said. "Better than us. They didn't require so much... handcrafting. And their systems are staggering."

Gaia smiled and said, "They could save us all."

"'Us,'" Ouranos said. "You mean, 'humans?'"

She stopped walking and strained to see his face in the light. Her lower lip curved into her upper lip and she smiled at him. With pity. "Still 'them?'"

Ouranos nodded and opened his mouth to speak. He stopped, however and turned. He was looking toward the fences.

"What?" she asked.

He raised his hand to quiet her. In the distance she heard a light hiss. Ouranos turned toward her and she nodded. They walked back toward the trees and got under their cover. Pressed against the trunk, Ouranos looked toward the observation tower but he couldn't see the silhouette of the guard like normal. He turned to look the other way but that tower was too far.

He whispered, "Let's get back inside. We run for the doors on three." He crouched and counted off with his fingers. As soon as he flashed 'three,' they began to run.

Once they entered the open, Gaia heard several of those hissing sounds. She heard something hit the grass and then she felt something hit her arm. She held it in front of her as she ran and she saw that it was a small black dart. She pulled it out quickly and kept running.

"Don't stop," Ouranos said.

She hadn't planned to, but when he said that, Gaia turned and saw him break away and run toward a group of three men. She looked in the opposite direction and saw four. The door to the compound was still fifty meters away. She could probably make it. Instead, she turned and decided to fight.

In the flash of seconds before she got near them, she appraised the threat. They were wearing Gemnar armor over black singlesuits. Standard utility belt with flashlight, utility torch, weapon holster and more on their waists. Black boots. Face blacking to cover their skin and conceal their features. Before she dealt her first blow, she could see that two of these people were women.

In the last meter, she feinted to the right and then struck to her left. Her hand caught the jaw of the largest man and he flipped to the side. Gaia turned to the right and kicked her foot toward the fourth person, a woman. It hit her square on the chest and she staggered backward. She turned twice, spread her thumb out from her flattened hand and bracketed the throat of the second man with a quick jab. He gasped immediately and fell to the ground. The other woman, though, had stopped and was firing more darts at her.

Thwip. Thwip. Two hit her leg. Gaia felt no ill effects yet so she moved toward her. Thwip. Gaia grabbed her weapon, spun it about and brought it across the attacker's face.

She then turned toward Ouranos. Two more had joined his party of three. Two were lying motionless on the ground and another was holding onto his leg while clutching at Ouranos' feet. He dispatched a woman with a punch to her lower back and then a spin that wrenched her shoulder free of its socket. More darts were fired at him with one catching his neck.

Gaia leapt into the air and kicked the side of a woman's head. There was a sickening crack as her neck bent over, followed by her slow collapse to the ground. Only when she landed did Gaia begin to feel the effects of the tranquilizer, if that's what it was. She stood and in her haste, felt the blood rush to her head and make her unsteady. She wobbled to the left and then punched while kneeling at the crotch of another attacker.

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip. All three hit her back and she found herself unable to stand from her position. She looked over at Ouranos and watched him snap the leg of a man as five darts rippled across his chest. He stumbled back and fell onto his rear.

Gaia's vision blurred. She struggled to stay erect and realized that her hand was still outstretched from having hit that man's groin. She wobbled and fell onto her side.

Voices. Blurry lights from the compound. Then she was being lifted.

Darkness.
XXVII

**OURANOS**

147 Years Before the End

He awoke two hours ago. He knew because he kept track. Ouranos was good with time.

At no point, however, did he see or hear anything.

Not entirely.

He occasionally saw light filtered through the dark fabric of the bag that covered his head.

While he was conscious, headphones were placed over his ears on the outside of the bag and blaring century-old Attican electrocad music. The album was _Gut Shock_ by Crius Oat and it seemed to be on a loop. After a time, Ouranos felt like he could actually count the individual beats from the droning drum synthesizer, despite the screeching electric lyre and the wispy-voiced singer.

He struggled against his bonds at first to measure them. Stiff metal bands had been placed around his upper arms and then connected to each other. Same for his forearms. His hands were locked in some kind of heavy metal glove-like restraint. His legs were similarly bound. Chains seemed to be used on top of the other shackles. A plastic ball was held in his mouth by a strap that encompassed his head. Ouranos bumped against someone else only once. Given their prone position, too, he assumed it was Gaia.

Finally, the music was turned off. The bag remained and he looked at the shifting light through the threads as he was moved. Placed in a cart of some sort, he heard footsteps echoing in a large room. For a moment, Ouranos doubted his ears. _I was listening to electrocad for some time._ No. He was certain. Cavernous room or corridor. The footfalls were on stone.

The cart stopped and a door was opened. He sensed the shift in light. The cart was pushed forward and then stopped again. He was pulled from it and seated in a plush chair.

"Take them off."

Ouranos heard fabric being pulled off Gaia's head to his left. Then, as the bag was pulled from his own, he closed his eyes. The light of the room passed through his eyelids for a few seconds as he acclimated himself to their brightness. Then, he slowly opened them.

Standing before him, wearing a dress uniform, purple cloak and gold finery, was Caesar Maxentius IX.

"Welcome to Tiberia," he said.

Ouranos wasn't going to respond, but the gags would have prevented it. Caesar pointed at the prisoners and a guard came behind him and undid the strap. The ball was pulled away and to the right. He watched trails of saliva follow the device before snapping and falling onto his clothes and restraints.

Ouranos closed his mouth and allowed his tongue to remoisturize. He nodded at Caesar once.

He nodded in return and looked at Gaia. Ouranos looked at her and saw her far more frenzied state. Her hair was mussed and there were bruises on her face and on the visible parts of her arm. She slumped in her chair exhaustedly and turned only once to look at her companion.

_A man_ , Ouranos thought. He looked Caesar over. The imperator appeared to be about thirty. He had thick, dark hair and a broad, muscular physique. He walked back and forth before the two prisoners with his cape dredging the marble floor. _He should be one hundred six years old_.

Gaia continued to struggle and he watched for a moment. He turned to Ouranos and said, "Certainly, you have questions."

"A few," Ouranos croaked. He cleared his throat but made no effort speak again.

The Caesar smiled and knelt before him. He looked into his face closely and said, "You are... remarkable." Maxentius stood and walked toward Gaia. "I've kept my eye on you two ever since you were revealed to the world."

Ouranos shook his head and said, "We are people."

"Of course." He held his hands out and said, "I will admit to having had doubts at first, but the more I learned, the more I understood." He tugged on the front of his shirt and said, "You could well be the most remarkable people in the history of the world."

"There are others now," Ouranos said.

Caesar nodded. "I know." He raised his left hand and pointed at one and then the other. "But you're the first." He knelt again and smiled, "You helped create the others. Not directly, of course, but by being there when the scientists needed another sample. Wanted to give you another prodding." The prisoners didn't react. "Named them after your old gods."

"That wasn't our idea," Gaia said. The imperator seemed surprised to hear her speak and he nodded. She looked toward Ouranos and then said, "You assaulted and abducted two citizens of the Commonwealth of Doria..."

"I know, I know," he said. "But I'll make it worth your while." Gaia raised a single eyebrow. "You felt held back..." He pointed at Ouranos and lowered his voice. "You had ideas to share and they didn't listen until you had irrefutable results." He shook his head once and looked toward Gaia, "And you were a part of their team. They shut you out. Your own children... outgrew you as soon as they awoke." He snapped his fingers and said, "Both of you, though, are obsolete now. Pausa is all about the Titans. Not you."

Ouranos looked at her and watched Gaia slowly lower her head. She never said anything about that before. Feeling closed off from the team. He knew it happened but she never expressed sorrow or regret. To him, anyway.

"You have a spy," Ouranos said.

Caesar smiled. "Of course." He softened his gaze and smiled sheepishly. "But am I wrong? About anything so far?"

Ouranos shook his head.

"Let's talk," he said. He motioned toward the door and four Praetorian guards came forth. With magnetic keys, they uncuffed them both from the various shackles and then pulled them away. Ouranos rubbed his wrists and arms before looking at Caesar. "Let us be honest."

Ouranos glanced at Gaia and then back at the imperator. "You know who we are and how we were made." Caesar nodded. "You know we nearly wiped out your entire squad."

He nodded again. "I know. For there to be any measure of progress, there must be trust." After a moment, one side of the imperator's mouth curled into a grin and then he brushed back his hair with his fingers. "And I'm going to trust you... with something else."

He reached up to his shoulders and unclasped his cape. He pulled it to his right and tossed it in a heap on the floor. Then, the imperator turned from side to side, allowing the bundle of cables and wires protruding from his lower back to be seen.

Ouranos said, "Your artificial body... has limits."

"Indeed."

Gaia's eyes followed the cables to a large black and gray box against a wall. "Your mind can't fit into this body."

Caesar nodded.

"Your life extension project has not been as successful as your media would have the world believe," Ouranos said.

Caesar tilted his head and began to speak. He stopped and chided himself, "No. I am being honest." He lifted his head and said, "It has not been what I hoped for. There have been successes and advancements, certainly, but ... I am as you see me." He stretched his arms out to the side and lowered his chin.

"A marionette." Gaia looked at Caesar defiantly, expecting some sort of wrath.

Instead, he said, "Yes."

"You took us," Ouranos said, "because you're hoping for greater advancements." The imperator nodded. "Perhaps on an organic front."

"Correct again." He knelt and looked from one to the other. "Everything I know about you two tells me that your primary concern is knowledge." The pair didn't answer. "I am going to give you the opportunity to dig deep." His hands plunged toward the marble floor and scooped imaginary dirt. "You will have the resources of the world's largest economy behind you." Still no response. "Study what you will. Build what you will. You will have my blessing."

Ouranos looked at Gaia and she quickly glanced at him. She inhaled deeply, raised her head and said, "No. Thank you."

The Caesar cocked his head and wagged his finger. "Don't be so quick to dismiss me." He stood and stretched out his left arm. With his right hand, he rolled up his sleeve. The skin on his forearm began to dance and shift in color. Then, it expanded, making his arm seem like that of a wrestler's. It changed colors and formed various shapes before settling back into its previous appearance.

Ouranos' mouth hung open.

Caesar smiled. "Yes. You're intrigued." He looked toward Gaia who still sat, obstinate. The leader lowered his sleeve and said, "I've given you worm. All worm. Now you're beginning to wonder about the hook, yes?" Gaia didn't answer, but Ouranos' brow furrowed. Caesar looked toward him and said, "I don't have a hook for you." He straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. "You can build and design and plan in our labs... or not. I won't be throwing you in some dungeon beneath the city. If you refuse, you will be secured but treated well. On the other hand..."

Gaia glanced toward Caesar when he turned toward the double doors that led to the balcony. She saw him begin to look back at her and she snapped straight again.

"... There is a hook waiting for you in Doria."

Ouranos narrowed his eyes and asked, softly, "What do you mean?"

"Your Psilons," Caesar said. "You and your children were test animals in that lab. With you out of commission, they become the world's foremost experts on... everything." Ouranos took in a breath and the imperator watched him closely. "Dr. Karin Baraz is too immersed running her company now to tend to you, her firstborn. Soon, though, she and the others will see the Psilons' value. They'll be let off the examination tables and allowed to create much like you desired. If you are stowed away, not working, they will be working all the harder. Researching the things you wanted to research. Creating that which you intended to create."

Ouranos found himself nodding, almost imperceptibly.

Caesar smiled. "You had a goal. Yes?" Ouranos didn't move. "You were working toward something... the Psilons were only aiding you on the periphery. Indirectly. Yes?"

Ouranos' eyes looked toward Gaia and then back toward Caesar.

The leader nodded and said, "They will not be sitting on the side of the field now. Now they will be fully engaged in your project. First as subjects and then as leaders. Scientists." Ouranos' nostrils flared and the Caesar smiled again. "All you need to do... is tell me... what is that project's goal?"

Gaia inhaled sharply and said nothing. Ouranos didn't look at her. He stared straight ahead. He tried to regulate his breathing. Caesar simply stood a few meters away and watched. It surprised Ouranos more than anyone when he answered the emperor.

"Wirelessly linked life."

Ouranos blinked repeatedly and didn't look at Gaia when she turned to face him.

"Yes," Caesar said. "Perfect bodies without illness. Their consciousness tethered to a spare." Maxentius shook his head and clapped his hands together once. "A remarkable idea. An amazing feat which you have already attained."

"Damn you sixty times," Gaia muttered.

"Now, now," Caesar said. "Ouranos has only said what I already knew." He stood between the two and said, "You've done it in the lab with carefully selected genes and such, but you haven't done it for a real person yet." Neither of the two answered. Caesar prodded, "Correct? You have not been able to accomplish this with a person who already exists?"

Ouranos looked up and shook his head.

Caesar smiled. He opened his hands, palms up.

"You're offering yourself, of course," Gaia said.

"Naturally."

Both of the prisoners lowered their heads again.

"As I said," the imperator began as he moved toward a bureau in the back of the marble conference room, "no hook. You can continue your work without interference from either Psilons or humans..." He opened the doors of his closet and turned to step back into it. "Or you can sit in a comfortable room for the remainder of your days. However long they may be."

Ouranos lowered his head to think. As he did, his eyes traced the intricate pattern on the floor. What seemed to be a simple collection of white marble tiles was actually a beautiful work of craftsmanship. Slightly different hues and grains of marble were cut and carefully placed in swirls and circles. Ouranos was studying the artistry so intently he wasn't thinking about the Caesar's offer.

Gaia, though, reacted. She stood and sprinted for the balcony doors.

Ouranos' head whipped up as she slammed her shoulder into the wood. The lock broke and panes of glass cracked and fell. The Praetorian Guard raised their weapons and moved toward the balcony. Ouranos stood and ran toward her and wound up standing next to the Ceasar, looking out on Viminal Square in the middle of the night.

A guard took aim with his rifle. Gaia ran from the palace toward a group of administrative buildings on the opposite side of the Square. Ouranos looked at the aiming guard and saw him begin to squeeze the trigger. With a flick of his shoulder, the taller man knocked the rifle aside and a shot went astray into the dark night. The guard fell against the others and all of them lost their aim before Gaia disappeared into decorative topiary.

"Go get her," Caesar said. One of the guards raised his sidearm against Ouranos, but the imperator shook his head. "Go." The guards left the room. Ouranos reentered the palace with the arm of Caesar's puppet on his shoulder. "Don't fear," he said. "She won't be harmed."

Ouranos nodded. After a few more steps, he asked, "And me?"

Caesar stepped back and held the man by the shoulders. "I've assumed, because you didn't jump over the balcony to follow her, you have decided to remain here." He paused. "And continue your work?"

Ouranos' heart beat loudly in his ears. He didn't seem to be breathing, though. He forced himself to inhale and then he looked the imperator in his eyes. His perfect plastic and glass eyes.

"Yes," he said.
XXVIII

**BARAZ**

147 Years Before the End

Karin sat in her chair with her fist pressed against her jaw. She hadn't slept in two days. She leaned forward slightly as Doria's intelligence minister spoke.

"I've seen the video. There's nothing to identify them at all."

"There's blood on the lawn," Mione said. "They dragged the six dead bodies off, carried out their wounded, but they left blood behind."

The minister shook his head, "You don't have some sort of database on Tiberian genetics, do you?"

No one spoke.

"Look," he said, "I've said it once and I'll say it nine more times: I believe you. We simply don't have sufficient actionable intelligence."

Baraz looked up and said, "Or will." Her words slurred from fatigue and she saw confusion on the minister's face. "Even if we gave you the evidence you want, Doria is in no position to launch any kind of rescue operation or... punitive strike against the Empire."

He inhaled deeply and then shrugged slightly. "You are not incorrect."

"We could report them to the world." Mione got no reaction. "The Pact of Nations?"

The minister smiled and said, "The Pact has been impotent for almost a century."

Karin straightened up and spoke softly, "Foreign soldiers on Dorian soil, in the capital city, no less. Four Dorian citizens attacked and two people abducted as part of... industrial espionage waged against one of the commonwealth's biggest businesses. And we can expect no fingers to be lifted?"

The minister stood and said, "Fingers will be lifted, doctor, if you wish to pay."

Baraz shook her head to the side once and said, "Doria: where free market sensibilities run wild in both business and government."

With a smile, the minister said, "That's why BBM came here, right?" He nodded toward Mione and walked out the door.

Karin's assistant sat down and tapped on her wristband for a moment. "It's almost noon. Are you hungry?" Baraz shook her head. "You should sleep, at least." Karin nodded. After a few long moments, Mione said, "Do we consider them lost?"

Baraz blinked slowly and took in a deep breath. "I think we have to." She looked out her window over the city. "I've been too immersed in numbers and paperwork. I haven't been in the labs. What were they working on?"

"Not much, from what Hikka says. Ouranos was still working on his memory transmitters. Gaia had been working on gene repairs but she seemed to give that up after a while."

Karin looked at her desktop. "The Titans are still being tested on, yes?"

"Oh, yes. Hikka says they've been invaluable."

"Perhaps this loss isn't as devastating as I feared." She waited a moment and then jerked her head up. "I don't really mean that. They were my first." Mione nodded. "I want them home."
XXIX

**DONOVAN**

147 Years Before the End

"It was a remarkable thing, doctor," Caesar said. He paced atop the throne room's platform in front of his marble chair. He placed his hands in the air to approximate the position of someone. "I saw my brother standing right here."

The doctor shifted nervously. He grinned a little and said, "I'm sorry, lord, but that's just not possible."

The imperator nodded. "I agree." Caesar was walking about, "nude," and admiring the flexing of his metallic flesh and muscles. "I had a thought. And I acted on it." He started to descend the steps toward the doctor.

Ryall clasped his hands behind his back. "I see. What was that thought?"

The Caesar smirked and said, "The Dorians, you know. Baraz Bio Medical." Donovan nodded. "They are experts at cloning. They created several distinct individuals for testing and entry into our Project." He turned quickly and the cables extending from his back slapped against the marble steps. "I thought, 'Perhaps they went to Arba and got a sample of Faustus' blood.'" The doctor smiled. "'Perhaps they grew another Faustus... one they could control.'"

"Possible, dominus, but unlikely." He tried to maintain his composure. Donovan knew the Caesar would be able to detect any abnormalities in his behavior.

"Yes. That's not what happened. I did study all manner of security information about Arba, though." The leader stopped moving. His frame grew in size and his "muscles" bulked up. His skin flushed red and his eyes narrowed on Ryall. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered dozens of clandestine meetings between you and my sister-in-law, Constance."

Donovan's head went light and his skin rippled with heat. He stumbled back a little and closed his eyes. He knew this day would come. Everything was just taking too long. "Lord,..."

"Silence!" Casesar shouted. He resumed his former size and studied the doctor's mannerisms. Try as he might, Ryall couldn't hide his fear. "Faustus. Bedridden, addle-brained brother of mine. He could never be the emperor. Constance... not a blood member of the line, so she couldn't be empress. Her son, though," he held out his hand and his flesh rippled and stretched upward. It formed a rudimentary mask of the teen. "Julian could do it." The mask went away and Caesar leaned over to pick up his toga. "It's been taken care of."

Donovan was horrified. His mouth fell open and he stammered for a few seconds. "My lord, what..."

"Please, doctor," he said. "I'm not evil. My nephew lives. Constance, however," he tilted his head, "does not."

Ryall nodded and closed his eyes. "And me, lord?"

Caesar smiled. "Look at me, doctor." When he did and saw the Caesar's face, he worried even more. "You're not going to die."

Donovan swallowed hard and then licked his lips. "I'm not?"

Caesar shook his head and then snapped his fingers. "Remember how I said I suspected the Dorians and BBM? Their cloning and all that?"

"Yes, lord."

Just then, at the far end of the chamber, the door opened. A very tall, dark-haired man entered. He was stunning to look at and the doctor knew exactly who it was.

"Dr. Donovan, this is Ouranos." The man nodded. "He'll be helping you on the Project from now on." Ryall lowered his head and nodded slightly. "And by 'from now on,' I mean until the end of your life."
XXX

**AHLJAELA**

146 Years Before the End

"Name?" the foreman barked.

"Rovil," the man said. "Rovil... Karnaeda."

The foreman wrote it down and waved him on.

Hundreds shuffled through the cramped hallway. They made a few turns before spilling out into a large assembly area littered with cots and bunk beds. He stopped and swept his gaze across the floor.

"It's a mess," another man said.

Rovil nodded. "My father once told me they had beds in rooms."

"Used to be," the man answered. "Senior staff gets those now, since the expansion. We get this."

He moved forward and took an empty cot on the far side of the room. He sat down on the edge and watched people go by. The same man from before sat on the cot opposite Rovil's and pointed.

"This is your first time here."

Rovil grinned nervously and looked down at his small bundle of clothes. "Yes. First time in a factory. I've worked on my family's farm for years."

The stranger nodded. "It won't be so bad. Listen to people and do what you're told. Be careful. You'll do fine." Rovil nodded and the man asked, "Your father... does he still work here?"

"No," he said. "He died a few years ago." The stranger shook his head once and turned to adjust his bed. "The farm hasn't been doing well so I had to get a job here."

"You and everyone else, son."

Rovil turned and lay down on the cot. He stared at the high ceiling and cursed himself. He was talking too much already. "Don't say the word 'coalition,'" his mother warned, "and don't use your real name."

The job was too important to the family. He couldn't mess this up.
XXXI

**OURANOS**

145 Years Before the End

Ouranos moved around the table to the control panel. He pressed a few buttons and then looked up at the circle.

A single light glowed steadily and then made a complete sweep of the shape. As it passed, it whispered, using the sound for further sensory input.

He nodded and returned to the table. As he sat, he lifted the circle and the neat tangle of wires and circuits attached. He swiveled over to the golden housing and lowered the components into position. He reached into the neck and snapped a few leads into place.

"Is there... anything I can do?"

Ouranos turned and looked at Dr. Donovan. The man was harried and tired. He seemed to have aged ten years in the last two. He was supposed to be aiding Ouranos with the Life Extension Project, but...

"No. Not right now."

He clicked the circle onto the face of the golden housing and pushed it away from the edge of the table. He connected cables from it into a large collection of electronics and processors nearby.

"Tell me, doctor," Ouranos said. "How does the Caesar plan to get organic bodies for himself if Tiberia is so hopelessly behind on genetics, medicine,..."

"I've talked to Caesar about all of this." Donovan shook his head, "More times than I can count."

Ouranos looked up from the circuits. "And his response?"

"'Advance us, doctor.'"

Ouranos nodded and moved a magnifying panel into place above a processor. "He's the emperor... he can take what he needs from other nations." He glanced at Ryall and then back to his work. "He took me."

"Don't think the thought hasn't crossed his mind." Donovan leaned against the wall. "He's still worried about the Senate, to a point."

"I see." Ouranos clicked something into place. "Politics was never my strongest subject."

The doctor drank some water and asked, "Did you have some other idea?"

"I do." He straightened up in the chair and then lifted the golden shape from the table. "The time isn't right, though." As he manipulated wires, he asked, "How go your efforts with the prefects?"

Donovan shook his head. "They are either ready for a box or already in them. Of course, they want puppets like Caesar's for them to operate ..."

"Hm."

"But that takes more time than I have." Ryall sighed again.

"This will help in many ways."

Ouranos pressed a button in the middle of the electronic mass. A few servos sprang to life and a tiny light on each processor panel began to glow. The single blue light in the circle stuttered for a moment and then began to sweep counterclockwise around the shape. It whispered as it moved. And then it spoke.

"Standing by." The voice was clear and feminine.

Donovan moved away from his corner and looked over Ouranos' shoulder. "Amazing."

"Thank you."

Ryall cocked his head and said, "You know, I think I would give it an intentionally mechanized voice. It's a bit disconcerting for it to sound so human."

Ouranos nodded. "Maybe."

"What are you going to call it?"

He lifted the golden head higher and watched the blue eye sweep on and on. Ouranos smirked and said, "Cyclops."
XXXII

**GAIA**

145 Years Before the End

She looked up at the sign. "Pausa," it read. Her shoulders slumped and she kept walking.

Dawn would arrive soon. The BBM compound was near.

"State your business," a guard said. The flashlight shone in her face. She shielded it from her eyes for a moment and then stood straight. "My God," the man mumbled.

He guided her behind the barricades and into the facility. Another guard brought her a coat and they led her across the field to the main doors. She stopped and looked at the tree.

That's where she and Ouranos were taken.

"Are you alright?"

She didn't say anything. She started walking again and entered the compound.

The next hour was a blur. Ushered down hallways to medical facilities and labs. Sleepy-eyed doctors flashed their lights in her eyes to check dilation. Technicians scanned her body and read their devices. She never said a word.

"Gaia?"

She recognized the voice. She looked up and saw Dr. Karin Baraz. Her face was pale and her mouth was hanging agape. Gaia nodded once.

Baraz immediately hugged her. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you." She stopped squeezing her and sat down on a stool nearby. "How are you?"

Gaia didn't answer.

"When did you last eat?"

Her voice cracked, "Three days."

She snapped her fingers. "Get some bread and water." Baraz brushed her hand against her matted hair. "You can have something more substantive once you get your body working right again."

Karin asked more questions but Gaia didn't listen. Not until Baraz said the name "Ouranos."

"Where is he?" Gaia asked.

Baraz sighed and said, "Still in Tiberia. Working for the Caesar, we think."

Gaia closed her eyes. "I ran. He offered us freedom to work and research with him but I knew it was a trap. I ran. I hoped Ouranos was behind me... but he wasn't." Karin said nothing and simply watched her speak. "I ran for four whole days straight. Then I moved at night. It took months to get out of Tiberia." Someone set a glass of water and a few slices of bread by her on the table. Gaia grabbed the water and gulped it a few times. She pulled it away from her mouth and asked, "How long was I gone?"

"Two years, three months."

Gaia didn't answer. She sipped the water once more before putting it down. Picking up the bread, she asked, "Can I stay here?"

Baraz smiled and her throat clenched. As her eyes began to well up, she said, "Yes. You're home."
XXXIII

**CAESAR**

145 Years Before the End

"Glorious!" Tribune Cato Yale said.

"Look at it," another man said. He walked to one side of the machine and scanned it again with his eyes. "Imagine a legion of these."

The Caesar nodded. "I am imagining it now, general."

The device stood two meters tall. It was thin but mechanically muscular. Light reflected off every surface of its golden hull. A bright blue light circled the front of its face. Its servos whined when the thing moved, but now, the only noise audible was the light whistle of the eye. The emperor looked to Ouranos. The dark-haired man was holding his head high. There was a slight smile on his face.

The imperator walked to him and clasped his shoulders. "Two years, Ouranos. Just two years." He turned back to the creation and shook his head. "You have honored me beyond measure."

Ouranos nodded while Yale moved around its periphery. "How strong is it?"

"Stronger than any human," Ouranos said.

"And it can be programmed with fighting techniques, missions,..."

"Anything you desire, Tribune."

Caesar moved to face the machine directly. His chest broadened and he said, "Cyclops." Immediately, its golden arm swept across its torso, clanking its fist against its left breastplate. "Do you recognize me?"

Its head lowered briefly and then returned. "I do not, master." The metallic, staggered voice echoed in the marble chamber.

The emperor's chin jutted and he said, "I am Caesar Maxentius the Ninth. Lord Imperator of the Tiberian Empire."

"Understood, my lord." It then bowed at the waist.

Caesar's eyebrows lifted and he turned to Ouranos. "And it will remember this?"

"Indeed, imperator. It has learned."

He walked toward his scientist, glancing only briefly toward the wall where Donovan stood, hiding. "And for the Life Extension Project." Ouranos nodded. "Can a unit such as this be adapted for my purposes?"

Ouranos smiled again. "It can indeed. Doctor?"

Ryall slowly moved from the wall and into the open beside Ouranos. "We have greatly expanded the amount of information that can be stored and miniaturized all the relevant technology. There are, still, a few hurdles..."

"Minor," Ouranos interrupted.

Caesar ignored Donovan completely and put his hand on Ouranos' arm. "What do you need?"

Ouranos' head lowered slightly and he said, "Two things."

"Name them."

"Grapheet. It is an invaluable resource in producing nanocircuitry like the Cyclops utilizes."

Donovan spoke from the side, "It would also be of great help in the bioengineering we need for organic bodies."

Caesar ignored him again. "Two?"

"Cereisium." Casear lowered his head. "Other elements in its group would suffice. Palladium, arcium, rhodium, ruthenium, olfactum."

The imperator stepped back toward the Cyclops and watched its eye circulate. It still had its hand planted on its chest. "With what we have available, how many more can you make?"

"With little margin for error," Ouranos paused, "less than two hundred." Caesar sighed and moved away from the machine. "If we expend our stores on making Cyclops, in force, we wouldn't have enough to continue research down this avenue for the Project. Even without making more, we may not have enough to continue the needed research."

Maxentius returned to his ornate, enameled wooden chair and allowed the cables from his back to drape properly around it before he sat. When he did, he crossed his left leg over his right and held his chin in his left hand. He glanced from the Cyclops to Ouranos. "I know where we can get a surplus of both items."

He lowered his head and responded, "As do I, lord."

That was ten months ago.

Today, Caesar stood upon the deck of Tiberia's largest aircraft carrier, _Valerian_. In the distance, he watched smoke rise from Nandia's capital city. Planes screamed overhead toward Pithardra, loosed their payloads, and moved away before explosions rocked what remained.

"Imperator," a subtribune said from near Caesar's chariot. "Our forces captured the prime minister of Nandia, three generals and the mayor of Pithardra as they attempted to flee."

The imperator looked away from the battle and beamed at the woman. "Fantastic news. Ready my landing."

"As you will." She turned and ran away.

With a thought, Caesar turned his large, motorized chariot toward the deck lift. It carried the whole of his existence disguised in an ancient vessel of war; the box that held his mind was hidden under his feet and in the front of the vehicle. That fool Donovan tried to talk him out of taking it into a warzone, but Ouranos created a backup of his mind for safekeeping.

"Praetorians," he called. Blue-robed men came to the chariot's side. They wore contemporary battle armor, highlighted with silver, and carried automatic weapons. As the deck lift lowered to the shuttle bay, Caesar addressed them. "I will take my chariot into the city and meet with the prisoners. As per our oldest traditions, I will not set foot upon foreign soil until they have surrendered." He bent over and lifted a fistful of dirt, taken from the palace gardens in Tiber. He looked at it and then let it fall back to the chariot floor. "Should that happen, you will remain close behind me to conceal my attachments."

"Yes, my lord," they said in unison.

Minutes later, their amphibious craft was lowered into the bay. Its engines churned and the dark gray bulk rode through waves toward the city.

The imperator dove into the Matrix in his thoughts. He watched news from other nations, covering the incursion. He was more interested in seeing footage from his own forces at Nandia's southern border with Tiberia.

There, he watched as thousands of soldiers marched behind two centuries of golden warriors. One hundred sixty Cyclops ran forward with their rifles raised. They squeezed the triggers for only the barest moments, allowing just a few bullets to escape. Caesar didn't have to check; he knew those shots found their marks.

A column of tanks rode up the right while the Cyclops moved down a slight incline. Low, rolling foothills of the Pyrenees stretched out as far as he could see. There were some fortifications and they fired at the Tiberian forces, but the machines were too fast. The emperor watched footage of the initial invasion for more than twenty minutes. He never saw a Cyclops fall.

"Door is down!" he heard an officer yell.

The imperator withdrew from the Matrix and rolled his automated chariot toward the ramp. The sea lapped underneath the metal panel and he moved over it quickly. The wheels of his cart dug into the wet sand before it found purchase and moved into Pithardra.

"Welcome to Nandia, lord," Legate Basilus said from further up the beach. "The Line Command is just ahead."

"Lead the way," Caesar said.

The chariot rolled over sand and grass before reaching a street. The emperor looked up and down its length, seeing nothing but debris and smoke. In the distance, another great explosion echoed and caused the ground to quake.

"My lord," another legate said from a tent flap. Caesar nodded and ducked underneath as he rolled into the spacious command facility.

Legates, generals, tribunes, subtribunes, and more were arrayed. They saluted at once and then parted to reveal bound men and a woman kneeling on the ground.

The imperator moved his chariot toward them and rotated it so that the open rear was facing them. He studied their lowered heads and watched them for a sign. Any sign.

"I am Caesar Maxentius the Ninth," he said. "Ruler of Tiberia." The prisoners said nothing. "Do you welcome me?"

Slowly, a general's head rose. She inhaled deeply and pursed her lips. With a violent motion, she spat toward the emperor with the glob falling just shy of the cart. Several of the Tiberian soldiers began to move toward the general but Caesar raised his hand to stay them.

"What about you, Prime Minister Somap?"

The older man raised his head and shook it slowly. "No, emperor. We will not welcome you or your men."

"Very well." Caesar watched as Somap lowered his head. He looked across the group and knelt within his chariot. "Do you surrender?"

The three generals all lifted their heads to look into the imperator's eyes. They shook their heads as the other prisoners did from their cowed positions.

"The might of Tiberia is upon you. Pithardra smolders," he motioned toward the door of the tent. "Armored columns have made short work of your southern border and are coming here. And," he stood up, holding a single finger aloft, "have you seen the newest weapon in our arsenal?"

A general looked down somewhat and muttered, "Yes."

"A century of Cyclops is coming this way." His volume increased. "They are fast. Faster than any soldier you have ever seen. They are strong. Their aim is true." He knelt down again, "They are deadly."

Slowly and deliberately, the prime minister raised his head. He looked at the Caesar and said, "Nandia will not surrender. We have not surrendered to Tiberia ever, though the Caesar's boot finds itself upon our necks time and time again."

The imperator nodded and stood. "The last time was... two hundred years ago." He inhaled deeply, though he didn't have to, and continued, "We freed Siron from the rule of your king."

"Lies," Somap barked. "You sowed rebellion so you could take the Siron Corridor for yourselves." Caesar didn't respond. He looked at the faces of the generals. They were staring at him now. "Tiberia takes and takes. You are no different than your forefathers."

Maxentius grinned and said, "Thank you." He folded his arms across his chest. "This is what will happen. Our forces will hold Pithardra until the ground units arrive in about ten days. Your armies will be obliterated, your people will be rounded up. If you value their lives and your culture, you will surrender to imperial rule at some point before my magister arrives here."

"We will not surrender," the female general said. Caesar was about to turn and roll his cart away when she continued, "You cannot kill us all. When the batteries run out for your puppet there, I will take our flag and frak your plastic ass with the pole."

The imperator tilted his head and glared at her. Within his mind, he felt something he hadn't felt in years. Rage. He looked at his boots. He twisted his left foot and watched the dark brown soil displace slightly on the floor of the cart.

Then Caesar stepped to the ground.

The Nandian prisoners whipped their heads toward the sight and their eyes widened. The Tiberian legates and tribunes gasped. The imperator paid them no mind. He took another step forward. He flung his purple cape behind him to conceal the cables that tethered him to the chariot. He extended his right arm and flattened his hand. His "skin" glimmered and began to pour toward his fingers. Still flesh colored, it formed a wedge that protruded from his fingertips by ten centimeters. Then twenty. Then thirty.

Everyone in the tent stared in awe. As they did, Caesar quickly swept his hand across himself, slicing into the throats of two generals. He did the same to the third. Their blood sprayed into the air as a fine mist backed with the occasional thick spurt. Their bodies slumped forward and to the side. Prime Minister Somap's face was covered in red and he blinked furiously, as much to get it out of his eyes as out of sheer surprise.

Caesar turned toward him and let the blood of his victims fall from his hand-blade. Drip. Drip. Drip. It pooled in the sand before Somap and the old man watched the grains swirl in the puddle. Speaking low and quiet, the imperator asked, "Do you surrender?"

The prime minister was quaking and he nervously looked to his left at the fallen commanders. Without looking Caesar in the face, he quickly shook his head. "No." His voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded briefly and retracted his right arm. Caesar lifted his left leg, leaned his body forward and thrust his right hand straight through Somap's chest and out his back. The sound that escaped his mouth was akin to a wet belch as the air from his lungs was expelled almost instantly and simultaneously drowned in blood. The imperator removed his arm, allowing the body to fall over.

The mayor of Pithardra was weeping violently and fell onto his side. Caesar stared at him for a moment before walking toward him. The mayor felt his approach and twitched, thinking his end had come. Maxentius placed the face of his hand-blade on the man's side, causing another twitch, before wiping the blood from it and onto the prisoner's shirt. Caesar then turned his hand over and did it again. The mayor continued to blubber as the emperor caused his "skin" to return to normal.

"Keep him prisoner," he said. "We might need him." A tribune nodded and Caesar stepped back onto his chariot.

He thought for a moment about the ramifications of what he'd done. No emperor had violated the "sanctitas soli" for twelve hundred years. Caesar looked through the Matrix to see who that was. _Pertinax_ , he thought when he found it.

Despite the bombing of Pithardra and the legions of soldiers making their way north through the country, the imperator's few steps from his chariot officially claimed ownership of Nandia for Tiberia.
XXXIV

**CRONUS**

145 Years Before the End

"That hurts," Tethys said.

"Just a moment." The scientist pushed the probe further into her naked torso. The woman pressed against the restraints as much as she could. "Almost there." She turned her head far to the right and locked eyes with Cronus. She began to cry.

"That's enough."

Biv looked over at Cronus and smirked. He turned the probe again and heard a beep. "I'm finished." He withdrew the thin device causing Tethys' chest to heave and blood to pour from the wound and over her dark skin. She breathed heavily and more blood spilled to the table. She squeezed her eyes shut and began to sob.

"Finish your work!" Cronus yelled.

Biv turned and looked at him. He shook his head and said, "Hold on." He returned to the small table and removed a capsule from the probe he used. Then he walked to Tethys and wiped the small incision with a disinfectant pad. After applying a thin line of suture glue, he unclipped her restraints and walked out of the room. Tethys didn't move.

Cronus watched her. Anger made his skin flush and he grit his teeth. After a slow and deliberate deep breath, he asked, "How are you?"

Her weeping had been rather quiet, but now she became loud. She brought her arms to her chest, covering herself, and then she folded her legs under her. She didn't speak.

"It will get better."

Cronus moved his right arm against his restraint. His exam table was vertical and he had been bound there for over two hours. He was waiting for a technician to perform yet another test on him. He never returned.

Tethys rolled off her table and she gingerly reached toward a chair. Crouched over, she removed her robe from the back and slid into it. After regaining her composure, she stood straight and walked toward Cronus.

"I don't know how much more I can take."

Cronus nodded. As she undid his buckles, he said, "I'm working on something."

Thethys looked up at him and mumbled, "You've said that for a while now."

He didn't answer.

Once he was free, Cronus went to the hook on the back of the door and removed his robe. After putting his arms into it, he looked at Tethys. She was examining the incision through her open robe.

"Pericardium testing?"

She nodded. "There's some bacterial pericarditis in Eridia. It's killed hundreds."

"That doesn't excuse," frustrated, he waved his hand toward the table, "rape."

Tethys walked toward the door. "It could be worse. I could be Coeus."

Cronus licked his lips. "Yes."

They walked into the hall and passed by several darkened examination rooms. It was only when they returned to the Psilon's common room that they saw how late it was.

"Where the frak have you been?" Hyperion asked.

"Tied down," Cronus said. He pointed to Tethys and said, "Pericardium sampling."

Mnemosyne nodded knowingly. "I had that, too."

Theia asked, "What about you?"

Cronus shrugged and sat in a large chair. "I was strapped down hours ago. Kandall left and never came back." The Psilons scoffed and shook their heads.

Hyperion handed him a few slips of paper. "Did you see this?"

Cronus read the headline first. "Tiberia invades Nandia." His eyebrows lifted and he skimmed the first few paragraphs: "Citing Nandian espionage, the Caesar's forces... scientific advancements stolen from Tiberian laboratories... international community balks, saying such claims are without merit... expert said, 'It's a power grab by Maxentius IX...'"

The others began to talk amongst themselves while Cronus furrowed his brow and leaned against the pillowed arm of the chair. He tossed the papers to the table before holding his jaw and thinking, only listening occasionally to what the others said.

"We've been here for almost nine years. Nine years!"

"I don't know why you're acting surprised."

"It used to be better, though. I'm serious. We had freedom..."

"No, we didn't."

"We were at least allowed to ask questions. To suggest things. They don't let us do that now."

"They let us live here, together."

"But not before sterilization. That's not freedom."

"How many more times can they keep doing the same tests on us? Taking the same tissues and fluids?"

"They've stopped killing us. Testing the transfer systems."

"Only because they ran out of ways to kill us."

"When was the last time you talked to Dr. Baraz?"

Pause. Cronus realized they were talking to him. He shook his head. "I sent a message last month. I didn't hear back."

Phoebe stood up from the couch in a huff and marched toward a fish tank. "She's too busy with the government."

"Business, business."

"Not just that," Crius said. "She's still on them to do something about Tiberia and Ouranos."

"She's taking care of Gaia, too." Some of the Psilons scoffed, but Rhea kept talking. "She's one of us, in a way. She used to be where we are now. She still needs help."

"It doesn't matter," Iapetus began. "She's not here and she can't help us. At worst, she's not interested in helping us."

Cronus was tired. For so long, he tried to speak with Dr. Baraz and Dr. Hikka. Hikka was killed in an aeroplane crash years ago... Baraz became distracted by Ouranos and Gaia's abductions. What little contact he had with people who actually listened to him was gone. He glanced toward Coeus. A once-tall, proud, and brilliant man was now reduced to a quivering wreck. He sat in the corner, spinning a child's toy in his palm. "Psychological testing," they called it. The procedures, whatever they entailed, seemed to age him years in a matter of days.

Cronus stood up and opened his mouth to speak. He balled up his fists to muster the anger he needed to rally them.

"What's going on in here?"

The Psilons turned toward the hall and spotted one of the night guards. He looked at each of them before settling on Cronus. He jerked his head in a "come here" motion.

Keeping his fists tight, he slowly approached the shorter man. "Yes?"

After looking down the hallway once, the guard passed a small piece of paper to Cronus. He spoke barely above a whisper. "You dropped something." Then he turned away, standing just outside the door.

He unclenched his hands and unfolded the note.

"Cronus," it read, "I understand you're having difficulties at home. Perhaps you should come for a visit. We're ready for you." It was signed, "Ouranos."

Cronus grinned and turned slowly toward the Psilons.

"What is it?" Themis asked.

He didn't say anything. Cronus crossed the room and sat at the table beside Coeus. He was still playing with a brightly colored sphere. The Psilons gathered behind him as he spoke.

"Coeus." He didn't answer. Slowly, Cronus reached up and took the toy from Coeus' hand. He grunted and tried to take it back. Cronus passed it over his shoulder and Oceanus grabbed it. After putting his hand gently on Coeus', he said, "Are you listening to me?"

Coeus studied the other man's hand for a moment. Then Cronus began to slowly stroke the tops of his knuckles before patting it. Coeus looked up, wide eyed, and nodded.

Cronus smiled and said, "Good." He leaned forward. "Are you tired of this place?"

Coeus looked around and seemed pensive.

"What about the exam rooms?" Immediately, Coeus moaned and began to withdraw. "Yes, yes," Cronus said as he started to calm him down. "I understand. You don't want to go there again?"

Coeus shook his head violently.

"Good." Cronus looked at his fellow Psilons and ordered, "Bring me a pencil and paper." He glanced at Coeus and said, "A pillow, too." While a couple turned away to retrieve the items, Cronus patted Coeus' hand again. "I have a plan."
XXXV

**BARAZ**

145 Years Before the End

Karin stared at Coeus' body. Though his expression was one of peace, his hair was scraggly, his fingernails were very long and he seemed emaciated. This wasn't the man she knew.

"Dr. Baraz," Tim Solon said as he placed his hand on her arm, "the investigators say they're ready for us."

She nodded without removing her gaze from Coeus. She followed her assistant to the doorway of the Psilons' common room and found Inspector Rhodes there.

"Doctor," he said, "good morning."

"And you."

"Let's go in order." He flipped a page in his notebook and pointed to the body. "Just before twenty, Coeus was smothered. More than likely by the pillow found next to him." Baraz glanced back toward the unattended corpse. "We verified this thanks to the computers in your laboratory."

"Right," Baraz said. Her mind had been racing since she got the call hours ago. She tried regulating her breathing so she could observe everything in a detached manner. It wasn't working.

"The guard, Nicholas Dore, led the remaining eleven through the corridors," he started walking. Baraz and Solon followed him. "Into the lab."

Typically closed off and requiring special clearance, the main door was open and several officers and inspectors were loitering in what had been a clean environment. "Inspector," Karin said, "can some of your people please wait outside? I'd prefer to not contaminate our research more than it already has been."

"Sure," he snapped his fingers and the crew left their huddle. "Head up top and see if Kyle needs you for anything." They nodded and departed.

"Thank you," Baraz said.

"There was a struggle here," Rhodes pointed at an overturned tray and its spilled contents. "The group then forced the three researchers into this small exam room here on the left."

They crossed the space to the empty lab. Two tables were pressed against the far wall. An office chair was overturned. Belts and straps littered the floor. Rhodes held up a computer slate, showing the images of the three unconscious technicians. Biv, Aemon and... what was the third man's name?

"They were drugged, strapped down, and tortured."

"'Tortured?'" Solon asked. "How?"

"One, Rod Kandall, just had syringes jabbed into his limbs. The other two..." his eyes widened and he flipped a page. "Nicanor Biv had a medical probe inserted in his rectum and he was covered in a thick liquid. Nathan Aemon had a probe forced down his throat." Solon shook his head as Rhodes continued, "They'll be fine. It sounds more disturbing than it probably was. They were... drugged before all that."

Karin looked around the room and didn't see what she was looking for. "I was told that a note was left behind."

Rhodes nodded and pressed a few lights on the panel. "Yes. It was attached to Biv's clothes." He turned the rectangle around so she could see.

It was Cronus' handwriting. Karin recognized that much. What it described, though, seemed completely alien.

"For years, we have been trapped in this facility. For years, we have been tested on as though we were little more than animals. We have been treated as less than human. We have been sterilized so that we cannot engage in the most basic of human behaviors. We have been treated as mere equipment. Our blood, bile, flesh, and bone are used to cure sick people, but we aren't _asked_ to help. We give no input. We contribute nothing besides our very beings. We have been used for target practice to test our download systems and we've been put through psychological trials that would break the greatest minds of man... it did break the greatest mind among us. Enough. We have been offered sanctuary and we will take it."

"If Karin Baraz bothers to return, tell her she should be ashamed."

She lowered the computer pane and stepped back, leaning her shoulder against the wall. The inspector saw her expression and he held his head low. He organized the notebook for a moment, allowing Baraz time to compose herself.

Her mind reeled yet again. _Breathe deeply. I was gone too long. I was helping with Gaia. I was busy petitioning the Dorian and Tiberian ambassadors. I wasn't paying attention to what was going on here._

"Can we proceed, doctor?" Rhodes asked.

Karin nodded. Solon moved toward her to console her, but she waved him off.

"They left this room and moved back into the main lab, toward the canisters in the back here." They walked into the cavernous, mostly white laboratory, their steps echoing in the darkness. In the rear of the room, a few dozen tightly packed casks were lined up. Lights glowed within a golden gel. Silhouettes of the bodies inside lay hidden. Baraz stared down into one of them.

"I must say, everyone on my team was a bit surprised at all of this," Rhodes said. "We knew you had artificial people like Ouranos and Gaia, but this..." he motioned at the canisters. "No idea." He walked down one of the rows and stopped at one. The golden light seemed to be brighter than the others. There was no silhouette within.

"Coeus?" Tim asked.

"Yes," Karin said. "This body was awakened when the other was killed in the common room." _But_ , she thought, _would he still be psychologically damaged as Cronus suggested the other body had been?_

"It was almost twenty-thirty when this canister was opened," the inspector said.

Karin squinted. "That's too long." She pressed a few buttons on the side. "Coeus transferred to this body at nineteen fifty-seven." Rhodes nodded. "He sat inside for half an hour?"

"Apparently."

Baraz turned and looked around the lab. "He was part of the plan."

"How so?"

Karin turned back and said, "I believe that the Psilon... the man who awoke here, was psychologically damaged by experiments he was put through. The others killed him in the common room, hoping that being in a new body might cure him of those ailments."

"Right," the inspector said. "Would it?"

"It would depend on the nature of the damage." She thought more and looked around. "He didn't get out of the pod, though. It may not have been safe." Baraz wandered among the casks, looking at the panels and around the seals. She saw a glint of light on the floor. When she bent down, she realized it was a splatter of the golden ichor in which the bodies waited.

Karin stood and looked at the Psilon container nearest the spill. It was a Phoebe. She touched the controls and saw that the hatch had been opened at nineteen forty-nine.

"Oh, no."

She opened the top and looked at the unconscious, empty Phoebe inside. It was hard to see, but Baraz was able to tell that she had been disturbed. Her connections were pulled to one side, her hair was mussed, her legs were apart.

Karin slammed the lid down and took a deep breath. "Inspector, you'll need to get a technician down here to perform a sexual assault exam on this one."

Rhodes was stunned but he complied. Baraz and Solon sat down in a small administrative office for another three hours while the officers did their work.

"Dr. Baraz," the inspector began as he first entered the room, "I think we've got that part of things figured out."

"Nicanor Biv," Karin said. "He's the one who assaulted her."

Rhodes looked up and nodded. He ran his fingers through his hair and said, "Yes. That explains the gel on his body and clothes. And he admitted to it when an officer asked him at the hospital a short while ago." The inspector sat down and propped his head up on his left arm as he flipped through his notes. "Back to the chronology of everything,..."

"I've had time to think," Karin said. "Coeus remained in his canister because he saw or heard Biv with Phoebe nearby. Then there was the commotion. Cronus and the others entering the bay, attacking and gathering up the technicians that were there. Only when Cronus came to the canister did Coeus get out. As they planned."

Rhodes nodded. "Makes the most sense. And then there's the datacubes."

Baraz's head jerked up, "'Datacubes?'"

"Yes," the inspector cleared his throat and continued. "Judging by the empty slots, at least forty-two cubes were removed from the main computer room."

"Show me."

Minutes later, they were one level down and looking at a mass of processors and wires. The drawers were still open. The panels of the drawer were colored a deep black but mirrored slots with lights dotted the base. Cubes were missing from six drawers.

"Do you know what data was on them?"

Dr. Baraz was leaning against a column. She blinked very slowly. "Yes." She was so tired. "Data relating to... Psilons. How to make them. Their memories. A little bit of everything."

"And from here," Rhodes said, "the guard, Dore, got them out of the compound and to two waiting vehicles."

Karin lifted her head off her desk. _How did I get back here?_ She looked around and saw that it was fifteen. The afternoon, again. She shook her head and pressed a button on her wrist. "Tim?"

She heard movement outside her door and then Solon entered, yawning. "Yes, doctor?"

"Where's Lisa Onesi?"

Tim breathed through his nose and thought. "Um, she came by early in the morning while the inspectors were still here. She told me to tell you she'd be at home. To call if we needed her."

"Call her. Tell her to meet me in the main lab."

"Done."

Karin pulled a computer panel from her drawer and scrolled through the information. _Who was in charge of the psychological testing..._ _Nathan Aemon_. She stood up from her chair and straightened her clothes. She didn't even want to look at her reflection. "Walk with me, Tim."

He stood up from the desk, bringing along a slate. He tapped on it as they walked.

"Draw up dismissal papers for Nathan Aemon and Nicanor Biv."

Solon tilted his head and said, "Absolutely." He pressed lights and asked, "What about Kandall?"

Baraz grimaced and said, "Let me think about it." They entered the laboratory, passing by discarded police barricade plastic and still-overturned equipment. The pair stood in the semi-darkness for several minutes before Dr. Onesi entered the room.

"Dr. Baraz?" she called from the entrance.

"Come here, Lisa."

The young woman crossed the room and stood next to Karin. Only then did she turn to look at the mess caused by the Psilons. "Do we know exactly what happened here?"

"To a point," Karin said. She put her hand on Onesi's shoulder. It was a rare moment of physical contact for her, but one she felt was needed. "Lisa, I need you to be honest with me."

Onesi seemed almost surprised. "Of course."

Karin sighed and said, "How have things been since... since I haven't been here like I once was?"

She licked her lips and then answered, "Not good. After Dr. Hikka's accident, I didn't like the direction Dr. Pankra was leading his teams in. Their attitude was... almost cruel."

Baraz turned toward Tim. "Add Pankra to the list."

"I didn't say anything," Lisa continued, "because they got results. Five new medicines last year alone. An epidemic in Manden, gone."

Karin nodded. "I understand." She released Onesi's shoulder and turned toward the Psilons' canisters. "Those days are over now."

"I see," Lisa said. "What's next?"

"You will be my second." The young woman was shocked. "You know the people here better than I. If any of them fall into the 'cruel' category, they are to be dismissed. Immediately."

"Yes, doctor."

"In the meantime, we should begin again." Baraz walked toward the first casks and let her fingertips brush the plastic. "We won't make the same mistakes."

"So we should awaken the twelve again?" Onesi folded her hands and said, "We can easily sever the connection with the original Psilons, so the new twelve will be like blank slates."

Karin shook her head. "No. We'll wake them all. Every single one of them."
XXXVI

**THE MESSENGERS**

145 Years Before the End

Centurion Cal Drusus led his group down the slope. Nandian artillery began to thump in the distance. He knew they only had seconds before the hillside began to erupt. "To the rocks!" he yelled.

The soldiers darted for cover behind the huge boulders. Black smoke tore the mossy ground all around them, catching a few as they ran. Drusus was sitting next to a small man made larger by his armor and his weapon.

"Are you afraid?" the centurion asked.

The young soldier hesitated and then said, "Yes, sir."

Drusus smiled and said, "Of course you are." He leapt from his position and then began to run down the hill again.

The soldier peered around the corner of the rock and watched him go. Mortars continued to explode around them but the centurion made it to the next rock outcropping.

Then they heard the metal.

Rhythmic clanging began over the ridge before the Cyclops became visible. Their golden armor caught the light of the sun as they crested and, as soon as they did, they aimed their weapons and began to fire.

Emboldened, the young soldier and his comrades ran out from under the cover of the boulders toward where the centurion now waited. They slammed against the rock as Drusus watched the Cyclops contingent storm down the hill. Artillery continued to barrage the slope, knocking a few of the machines aside. Drusus focused on one and watched it sit back up, check its limbs and then stand again to run and shoot.

"Like them!" Drusus yelled. "Be a Cyclops! We run into the fire and we fire back!"

The centurion leaned out and fired a few shots toward the enemy. Then he ran to another rocky outcropping. The soldiers left behind checked their weapons before doing the same. Once they left the cover of the rock, they saw three low-flying gyrocraft over the Nandian encampment. The gunships were coming this way.

"Move!" Drusus screamed.

The soldiers ran toward him and looked down the hill after the Cyclops. The small detachment assigned to their cohort had already run the length of the slope and was fighting at the barricaded entrance to the base. Artillery, mortars, and rifles were still trained on the hill, though.

The centurion stepped back from the small group of fighters and looked them over. "You're almost there. Feel the fear and use it! Run headlong into battle for your glory and the glory of the Caesar!"

Drusus lifted his rifle and began to charge down the hill. The soldiers began to follow, but as soon as they left their cover, the Nandian gyrocraft opened fire. High-speed bullets lit into the ground and rippled through the centurion. His body flopped lifelessly to the hill but the fighters continued to run as the aircraft swooped overhead.

Drusus' body vanished and the Messenger drifted downhill toward the soldiers he had just been leading. The gyrocraft was turning around for another strafing and the warriors were nearly at the barricades alongside the Cyclops. The Messenger looked into the mind of each of the fighters and felt their overwhelming fear. Despite this, he had used it for days to lead these people into battle.

_Fear_ , the Messenger thought, _is a powerful tool_.

Minah Gaber sat on the side of the road by a small farm in Ghattaffan. The afternoon sun had set but the heat was not waning in the least. The horizon wavered at one end of the road and she thought she saw someone coming. She wasn't sure until the woman waved.

"Hello," the stranger yelled from dozens of meters away.

Still very tired, Minah returned the wave, but didn't speak.

"Waiting for the bus?" the woman asked.

Minah nodded. The stranger sat next to her on the side of the road and wiped her brow with a small rag. "Where are you going?"

"Just over the hill. To Mafang."

Gaber looked back to the west. She couldn't see the bus yet.

"I'm Aurie." The stranger offered her hand. She looked at it for a second before she decided to shake it. "You?"

"Minah."

Aurie nodded. "You work here at the farm?"

"Yes," Minah said. "I have for many years."

"I see." She put the rag in her pocket and exhaled through pursed lips. "Family?"

Gaber's expression went blank and she looked back toward the west. "Some."

"'Some?'"

Minah nodded. Without looking away from the wavering mirage, she said, "I had a daughter who died ten years ago. My husband and a son died in a truck accident four years ago."

"I am very sorry," the woman whispered.

Gaber nodded. "Some family remains."

"Well, there is an old saying where I am from. 'All is not lost or fades into the din, God is eternal and the world continues to spin.'"

Minah didn't answer.

"You are one of the Faithful, yes?" Aurie asked. She lowered her head, trying to catch Gaber's eyes. "Ramani?"

She finally answered, "I was."

"I understand." Aurie leaned away and tucked her hair under a headband. "If I lost my family... I don't know what I'd do. Much less believe."

Minah stared at the western horizon again. _Why won't the bus come_ , she thought. _I don't want to talk about this_.

"I know it doesn't seem like it... I know you don't feel like it, but God does have a plan. Everyone plays their part."

Gaber sighed and turned toward the woman. Giving a withering glare, she said, "'A plan?' What possible plan could God have that includes killing my children and husband?"

Despite the tone of voice, Aurie smiled. "I don't know. God is... God. We don't know, exactly, what he wants." Minah shook her head and turned away. "But I know this, he loves you."

Without looking away from the horizon, Gaber scoffed and said, "'Love.'"

Aurie said, "You just have to have faith."

Minah grit her teeth and balled up her fist. She was ready. When she turned to angrily rebuke the woman, she saw that Aurie was gone.

The Messenger stood nearby, invisible, and watched Gaber recoil, at first in horror, and then in bewilderment. She turned from side to side, looking in every direction. Then the tender saw something glow and grow within the woman.

_Faith_ , the Messenger thought. _Very, very powerful. Very useful_.
XXXVII

**AHLJAELA**

145 Years Before the End

The bus rumbled into the lot and screeched to a halt in front of large doors.

"Out!" the foreman shouted.

Rovil and his co-workers stood from the benches and began to shuffle down the narrow aisle and into the dusty air. The lot and roads were not yet paved. The buildings were bare and didn't even have company logos on them yet. The other four buses began to disgorge their passengers and once all were assembled, a man in a suit approached and spoke with the foremen.

"Let's go," the man said.

Everyone walked to the large doors which opened as they got near. Inside, huge metal frames contained conveyor belts and empty hooks. Bins were positioned about the walls. Mechanical arms stood at the ready and tools were in their holsters by the workstations. None of it had been touched. It was all brand new.

One of the foremen overturned a bin and the suited man climbed atop it. "Welcome to your new jobs. You have all been chosen because you are hard workers and because you know your place." A few workers began to speak among themselves but the foreman spoke louder, "Before anyone asks, you'll be allowed to go home after the first run is finished. That's at least five weeks."

Rovil glanced to his left and right. He recognized a few people, but not many.

"When you do go home, you will be watched." Everyone went quiet and still. "This is important because your silence is needed. What you're about to do comes from the Caesar himself." The man waved to the side. Then, a loud metallic thumping echoed in the plant.

A golden-armored machine walked in front of the workers and stopped just beside the bin. There was a loud gasp and Rovil stared, open mouthed, at the robot. It was holding an automatic rifle and it was looking across the crowd with its circling blue eye.

"This is a Cyclops and they are the future." There was some chatter among the workers but the foremen clapped their hands. "This one and two others will be stationed here to keep an eye on you all. Don't underestimate them."

Rovil swallowed hard and looked again at the machine. He had read stories. He knew that these warriors were deadly.

"You're going to be building the Caesar's armies. You are now part of the greatest war effort the world has ever seen."

The foremen entered the crowd and began to divide them into groups. Rovil was herded to one side.

"They're going to go get situated in the living spaces while we begin the unpacking process," the foreman said. "Once that's done, we'll all meet to learn our new jobs. Go on over and start uncrating the supplies."

Ahljaela moved toward the large boxes. They had been haphazardly spraypainted with a stencil reading, "Siler River Robotics." Beneath that, there were more words. Rovil couldn't read the foreign language but he did recognize the flag of Nandia.
XXXVIII

**CAESAR**

144 Years Before the End

"Lord Imperator, Princeps Senatus, Caesar Maxentius the Ninth!" Before the echo of the senatorial praetor's voice left the hall, the emperor strode into view. The five hundred or so patricians gathered there stood and applauded.

Caesar clicked his heels together and bowed toward the people before turning and walking to the left side of the platform. He flung his deep purple cape behind him, reveling in the lack of cables.

"Don't move too quickly," Ouranos warned. "Don't expend too much energy."

Caesar didn't care. He was free of that box. And his puppet. Free for only a few hours, perhaps. Still, it was a measure of freedom.

"I am humbled, most humbled, to be here in this ancient and holy place on the day of my Triumph," he said. Maxentius looked across the sanctuary at the assembly once more, grinned, and then turned to face the priest before him.

The Synoptic Church in Avantine Square was more than a thousand years old. On this same spot stood another Synoptic Church for nine hundred years before that. It was leveled in a fire that swept the city. And before that building was raised, this was where the Temple of Saturn stood for centuries more.

_Saturn_ , Caesar thought. _The Atticans called him Cronus_. He smiled again. _I've got Cronus in the palace working for me._ His body didn't require it but he took a chest-puffing breath. _The gods work for me_.

He looked up and saw the murals on either side of the antique glass window. On the left was Saturn, his face molded from ancient red clay, holding his sickle and hourglass. On the right, Saturn again. Here he was seated in his golden throne, holding a lightning bolt scepter, surrounded by the other Titans. The window itself formed the shape of the sun wreathed with myrtle, in honor of the most ancient beliefs of Tiberians. In front of it hung the symbol of the Median faith, a circle bisected vertically by a simple line.

The white-robed pontifex maximus approached and raised his hands. "Let us pray." Caesar knelt and lowered his head. He studied the contours of his blood-red boots as the head priest of the Synoptic Church spoke. "Lord of all, we ask for your blessings this day. We honor you and ask your blessings upon our leader on this day of his glory, and we pray that he will use it to further your glory."

The pontifex maximus removed a small cylinder from his sleeve and pressed a lever. There was a light spark inside and the incense began to burn. Once the first wisps emerged from the device's vents, he extended his arm fully and slowly made a circle in front of the Caesar.

"Benedictus Deus," the priest said.

"Benedictus Deus," the audience responded.

The imperator's eyes widened. _I can smell it! Like vanilla... I can smell it_. He hadn't smelled anything in almost two decades. _Ouranos and Donovan's last upgrade was well worth the time spent._

"Confiteantur tibi populi, Deus," the priest said.

"Confiteantur tibi populi omnes," the people answered.

The circle motion was complete and the pontifex maximus held the device upright in his hand; his forearm remaining perfectly still and perpendicular to the ground. After a few moments of stasis, the tendrils of incense that left the device clung to the priest's hand and sleeve. Then, he pursed his lips and blew the smoke onto the top of Caesar's head.

"Deus tecum."

The emperor lifted his chin and inhaled the remnants of the incense. When the molecules hit his olfactory sensors, he smiled again.

The pontifex maximus left the platform and exited the sanctuary. From the opposite side of the room, the flamen entered. A priest representing the pre-Median faith of the Empire, the flamen was primarily ceremonial and he performed few duties beyond Triumphs and festivals.

Wearing a heavy wool cloak over his fringed, off-white toga, the priest bounded up the stairs and stood on a small stool beside a marble table. He bowed low, showing off the leather skull cap that marked him as an official of the old religion.

He clasped his hands above his head and said, "Great Caesar! Son of Tiber! Come before the gods of old and make good our bonds to tradition!" The cheer in the man's high-pitched voice was contagious and Maxentius smiled as he rose from his kneeling position on the left side of the dais and walked to the right. He stood in front of the marble table with his left side angled toward the audience.

The flamen pushed a tray of items across the table toward the imperator and he placed a golden bowl next to him. The priest struck a long match and then laid it inside the receptacle. The fuel inside began to burn and the flame rose several centimeters above the rim.

"We honor the Titan of Titans first," the flamen said. "Saturn, god of harvest, god of time, god over all. Place the spoils of conquest in the flame."

Caesar lifted the prepared sheaf of wheat from the tray with his left hand and, in his right, he held a small sickle. Holding the bundle above the fire, he raked the blade about the top of the wheat, allowing grains and chaff to fall and be quickly consumed.

"Now we honor Polus, god of knowledge." The flamen took the sheaf and sickle as Caesar gathered the parchment and quill. "Place the knowledge gained in the conquest in the flame."

The emperor had thought for some time on what to write on the slip. He knew the parchment would be small and the time to write short... then he recalled the moment he stepped off his chariot and the shock that spread around that tent. He scribbled, "Power," folded it up and then dropped it into the bowl. It took a moment, but the velum caught light, popped a couple of times, and was consumed.

"Let us honor the first god of Tiber," the flamen said. Caesar laid down the quill and picked up the sickle again. "Before the Titans, there was Quirinus. God of war, god of the city. Honor the dead of Tiber with your blood."

Caesar practiced this several times over the last week. He put the blade against his "skin" on the arm just above his wrist. With a flourish to hide what actually happened, he lightly raked the sickle across the top of his arm. Red liquid, which he stored within his fluid metallic covering hours ago, poured out and into the flame, where it sizzled.

The flamen clasped his hands again and bellowed, "The Caesar has honored the Titans of old! Now let them honor him!" He removed a wooden box from under the table. He opened the dual panels and reached into the purple velvet to withdraw a silver shape. "As the gods honor you, you will also honor your forefathers by bearing their triumphant visage!"

It was the lifemask of Gaius Marius Caesar, the first emperor of the Tiberian Empire. More than twenty-four hundred years old, it was Tiberia's most revered object. Several in the audience gasped as the flamen held it aloft. It was only removed for the coronation of new emperors and the triumphs of emperors. Given Maxentius' lengthy reign, very few alive today had ever seen it before.

The priest lowered it to the tabletop and removed a small crystal flask from the wooden box. He pulled the stopper and poured the contents into the concave side of the mask. Then he lifted the silver artifact and tilted it in every direction. Caesar watched the red liquid spread out over the contours.

The flamen lifted it again briefly before placing it in front of the imperator's face. He leaned forward, trying to align his nose with that of Gaius Marius'. For most of his life, after seeing his father's Triumph, Maxentius wondered what the red paint would feel like on his flesh.

Nothing. His "skin" wasn't sensitive enough to convey that to him. He felt a slight warmth, possibly a wetness... that was all. The Caesar was disappointed, but he quickly pushed that aside.

"In privilege you were born," the flamen said as he lightly pressed the back of Caesar's head down, "in honor have you ruled, in wisdom have you governed, in strength have you stood, in triumph shall you march!"

The priest withdrew the mask and Caesar slowly stood erect again. He kept his eyes closed for a few moments before nodding to the flamen. Then, Maxentius turned to the audience and opened his eyes. He looked across their faces and saw pride.

The crowd stood and lowered their heads in respectful silence. The emperor stepped down from the dais and moved through the center aisle to the temple's front door. Behind him, he heard the audience begin to file out through other exits so they could assume their places in the triumph or along the route. He blinked slowly and tried not to move his mouth. He didn't want to disturb the ceremonial red paint.

"Lord Triumphator," Toma Marcus said as he placed his fist over his heart. Next to him, Magister Marcia Camillus saluted also.

Maxentius smiled and returned the gesture, "Triumphator. Triumphator." Here stood the only three living triumphed citizens of Tiber. Camillus was fresh from her own Triumph just a month before. Having led the ground campaign into Nandia, the people grew to love her and her public addresses on their progress.

Caesar, however, ordered this Triumph for himself. After violating the "sanctitas soli," he unwittingly annexed Nandia in one fell swoop. It was something unheard of and bold. The people loved it. Their leader, seemingly in top physical form again, taking for Tiberia what was Tiberia's.

"I am about to return to Viminal Square, lord," Marcus said. "If there's anything else you require..."

"No, Toma. Thank you."

He stepped away and Camillus slid into his position. "Dominus."

Caesar smiled and said, "We meet again so soon." Maxentius turned and began to walk toward his heavily adorned chariot. "I assume you will be in the cohort before me?"

"I will, emperor," she said. "If such an occasion arises, I am more than willing to serve as your magister again."

Caesar nodded. "I will keep that in mind." As Camillus strode toward her own chariot, he realized that she didn't want the Triumph to be the end of her career. _She is still very young_ , he thought.

He pivoted on his right foot and grabbed the handle on the side of his cart. The four white horses attached whinnied at each movement Caesar made. He mumbled, "Can you hear the whine of my metallic motors?" Despite the padding in his Cyclops body, he could hear them, too.

As he stepped into the chariot, he felt one of the servos in his right hip give out. His eyes widened and he clumsily slung that side of his body into position. He wanted to think a message to Ouranos, but this body didn't have Matrix access.

"Lord imperator," a young man said from the cobblestones of Avantine Square. "I am the scribe assigned to be your mementic."

Caesar tilted his head. "I see." He had forgotten about this part of the parade.

The fellow stepped into the chariot behind the emperor and held the side of vehicle. Maxentius looked down his side to see where the squire would be standing. He sighed and gazed ahead at the procession.

From atop the Synoptic Church, a horn was blown. The first of the musicians and flower children left Avantine Square and turned the corner to walk downhill. Caesar watched them disappear and smirked at the roar of the crowd. The bound Nandian prisoners were moved ahead next, followed by the carts loaded with captured goods ready to be tossed into the crowds. From the port several kilometers away, several battleship horns blew, echoing along the river and throughout the city. Once a sufficient space was cleared on the parade route, the three hundred ceremonially attired senators and the central government's consuls filed in. More musicians and flower children followed. A group of priests with activated censers joined them and waved their smoking wands about. Triumphator Camillus moved her chariot into the lane and the Cyclops cohorts left the edge of Campus Quirinus, marching behind her. The imperator smiled brightly and tightened his grip on the leather reins. After three legions of human soldiers left the field and began to march, Caesar urged his four horses forward.

When the chariot lurched, the mementic lifted the golden laurel into place above the emperor's head and said, just loud enough to be heard, "Remember, you are a mortal."

Caesar's eyes narrowed and he looked across the procession. Air crackled high above and Maxentius glanced up in time to see three squadrons of twenty-four fighters each fly overhead, spilling lengthy trails of purple, red and golden smoke. They blasted above the Triumph's route in the first of many such appearances today.

The emperor began to turn down Avantine Hill and the scope of the Triumph first hit him. As far as the eye could see, people lined every hill, field, building, and beyond. They were in trees, on rooftops, hanging from windows and streetpoles. Millions of people gathered in Tiber to see this, the first Triumph of a Caesar in nearly one hundred years. Attendants threw Nandian coins and food into the crowd. Children tossed flowers into the air where the petals were lifted by the breeze. Horns blared loudly and joined the cacophony of signals from the warships offshore. Once their leader's red face was visible, both to their naked eyes and to the hundreds of screens placed along the route, the crowd became more rambunctious than ever before.

Caesar's chest swelled and he felt the sensation of a lump in his throat. It was purely a mental illusion, but he could swear it was there. He smiled and lifted his hand only to have his reverie quashed by the squire again.

"Remember, you are a mortal," the mementic said.

The emperor ground his teeth and turned toward the boy. After snatching the laurel from his hand, he said, "Your services are no longer required."
XXXIX

**CRONUS**

144 Years Before the End

"This feels... pointless," Cronus said.

Ouranos lifted his eyes from a microscope and looked across the room. "How so this time?"

He shook his head and tossed a piece of paper onto the table. "Yet again, we lack some of the basic resources we need to move ahead on these things."

"I told you that when you first got here." Ouranos slid away from his position and rotated to look at the younger Psilon. "Caesar wants to make a living body for himself and we lack almost everything to get it done."

"In Doria, we could have," Coeus said. He rubbed his face and turned a datacube over to examine the base.

"We're not in Doria," Rhea said.

Cronus stood up and walked to the wall. He turned and pressed his shoulder into the corner. After scanning the faces of the Psilons and Ouranos, he smiled. "We're the best minds in the world. We can figure it out." He looked at Coeus again and thought, _Today seems like a good day for him_.

Oceanus nodded. "We will."

Coeus held up another datacube. "There's a problem, though."

"What?"

"If I'm right, when we finally do get the ability to create bodies, we will only be able to duplicate ourselves at first." Coeus set the datacube back in the receptacle and pressed buttons on the computer. He scratched his head furiously and leaned over toward the screen.

Cronus sighed. "Small favors." He looked toward Phoebe and asked, "What about reversing our sterilization?"

She shook her head. "No. Coeus is the only one who's unaltered, since he had an unscheduled death."

"Am I intruding?"

Everyone looked toward the doorway and saw the Caesar standing there. The Psilons stood and bowed toward him and the imperator stepped inside, motioning for them to sit back down.

"Please, carry on. I'm simply curious." He was using his Cyclops body again, as he often did these days.

Cronus nodded and glanced at Ouranos. He pulled himself from the wall and walked toward Maxentius. "My lord, may we speak freely?"

The emperor's eyebrows lifted. Ouranos glanced about nervously before his gaze settled on Cronus and Caesar. "Please."

Cronus took a deep breath and lowered his head. "We continue to study the... creation of organic bodies for the Project."

"Yes," Caesar said.

"Of course, we brought datacubes from BBM when we left, but, unfortunately," Cronus looked toward Coeus, "it seems that much of the data is only useful when applied to duplicating our own bodies."

Caesar stopped moving and his face went blank. He lifted his head a little and said, "I see."

Cronus lifted his hands and began to gesture, "Now, we can certainly extrapolate from that information the data we require. It will simply take a little longer."

Maxentius smirked and said, "I have time. I understand. Just get it right."

"Of course, lord."

The emperor asked, "How long until you are able to create these duplicate bodies for yourselves much as you had in Doria?"

Cronus turned his head as he thought. "A few years, at least. Once we have the materials, it shouldn't take long." The imperator turned to look at something Hyperion and Theia were working on. Cronus spoke up again, "I do have another concern."

Caesar turned back around and arched his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Materials. Computing power. Tiberia lacks most of what we would need."

The emperor folded his arms across his chest. "Everything from Nandia? Nothing there?"

"Many things, yes," Ouranos interjected. "Lord, the grapheet alone will be very helpful with organic engineering, but most of what we claimed is needed for making more Cyclops. There are some things that not even Nandia had."

"I understand." Caesar paced about in a tight circle and stopped when he faced Cronus again. "You've felt this way for some time?"

Cronus raised his chin and looked into the false eyes deeply. "Yes."

There was a lengthy pause. The other Psilons stopped what they were doing and turned to watch. Caesar sensed this and smiled. "You need not fear to speak your minds, truly." A few Psilons sighed and grinned. "You people..." he turned toward the others as he talked, "you have already contributed to the Empire in ways that cannot be quantified."

He moved toward Mnemosyne and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You've helped increase our computing power and miniaturized the technology simultaneously." He pointed to Oceanus and Tethys, "You two created a better desalinization facility than anything our scientists made in the last five hundred years." He looked at Hyperion and said, "Solar batteries." He shrugged and said, "More of our people have reliable energy than ever before." Caesar glanced around at the others and continued, "You're all working on the things that interest you and Tiberia reaps the benefits. Thank you." Caesar then bowed toward the Psilons.

They appeared somewhat dumbfounded but they eventually smiled. Cronus looked at Ouranos, who seemed surprised at the emperor's good mood.

"You go ahead and do your work. Tell me what you need and I will do what's in my power to make it happen." The Caesar took a small step toward Cronus and said, "There are large plans afoot. And you," he pointed his finger at Cronus and then swept it across the room at each of the other Psilons, "are all part of it."

Cronus held Rhea's hand. They were sitting in the chairs of the auditorium while they waited for the meeting to begin.

"I had fun last night," he said.

Rhea grinned. "I did, too."

He put his arm around her and looked at Coeus and Pheobe. They were smiling and laughing, just like Cronus and Rhea had been. He heard a gasp and looked over his shoulder. Two rows back, Tethys playfully smacked Hyperion for making some unwanted remark.

A door opened to the left and everyone in the auditorium turned. It was just Cronus and Themis. They had been carrying on the last few months just like all the other Psilons. Soon after, more people entered the room. Iapetus, Theia, Crius, Crius, the third Cronus, another Rhea... Ten minutes later, all of the Psilons had gathered.

The chatter became loud and Dr. Karin Baraz emerged on stage. This had been the media room for Baraz Bio Medical, but she used it as the meeting place with all of her children, as she put it.

"Gaia," she said. Baraz waved and she left the curtains, too. After Gaia sat in a chair on stage, Karin lifted the microphone to her mouth. "Hello, everyone."

"Hello," most of the crowd answered haphazardly.

"Time for another meeting." She smiled and looked around the auditorium. "I'm glad to see everyone in such good cheer."

Rhea squeezed Cronus' hand and he smiled, too.

"It's been a year, almost, since you were all awakened." Karin looked down at her feet and then slowly raised her eyes. "I feel like... I feel like I haven't been good enough to you."

Cronus squinted at her and a nearby Theia said, "You have."

Baraz raised her hand and paused before speaking. Gaia reached toward her and touched her arm. She didn't react but she did start to talk. "You know how your siblings, the first twelve, were treated." The Psilons nodded. "You know that BBM isn't about making profits any longer. It exists now to right the wrongs that we... I committed."

Cronus began shaking his head.

"There's no excuse for what was done. I can only hope that some... good will continues to come out of here. From you."

Rhea nodded and said, "Yes."

Gaia stood and took the microphone from Karin. "There were wrongs, but those were in the past. Now, when it matters, you are there for us, doctor." There was scattered applause. "And BBM isn't out of business. I'm pleased to announce that a vaccine for necrovirinae has been approved for distribution. Congratulations, Coeus and Theia." The two stood while the Psilons cheered raucously for them.

Baraz smiled and Gaia handed her the microphone again. "Very good work." When everyone settled again, Karin said, "And now I have some more good news. First, the last group of houses on the compound will be open and ready for you to move in tomorrow."

Rhea's eyes widened and she turned to Cronus. He laughed and hugged her tightly.

"Second, and even more important..." Baraz chuckled.

"I still can't believe this," Gaia said.

"Second, congratulations to Themis and Iapetus." Many of the Psilons turned in their chairs to find the couple. "They're having a child."

The room went silent. Mouths hung open and all breathing appeared to cease. Dozens of eyes focused on Themis. She became self conscious and reached toward her stomach. Baraz noticed the reaction and raised the microphone again. As she was about to say something, the auditorium erupted in cheers and applause. Psilons rose from their chairs to greet the expectant parents.

While they waited nearby for their turn, Rhea tugged on Cronus' arm and pulled him closer to her. "I wasn't sure we could even have children."

"Me neither," he answered. With a smile, he said, "I can't wait to start trying."
XL

**OURANOS**

142 Years Before the End

He was moving through screen after screen of coding. He just couldn't find it.

"I feel as though a hammer is hovering above me," Donovan said.

Ouranos sighed. "Mm-hmm."

Donovan slowly lifted his head from his hands. "It's like a special torture this." He gestured toward Ouranos. "You know far more about computerization and memory than I. You've accelerated the Project much further than anything I could have done in my lifetime." He shook his head. "There's no reason for me to remain."

Ouranos closed one file and opened another. "Perhaps you're right."

Donovan whipped around and he glared at the back of the large man's head. "I've tried. You've seen that, yes?"

Ouranos watched screen after screen flash by. Still no sign of the problem. "Yes."

"I've made suggestions. I've... I've written down my ideas." He grunted and almost laughed. "Cronus just tossed them aside. 'I'll look at it later,' he said."

"Cronus is arrogant."

Ryall nodded. "He is."

"But brilliant."

The doctor closed his eyes and looked away. "Yes."

As Ouranos closed that file and opened another, he said, "You need to ingratiate yourself with the Psilons."

"What?"

"They are the future," Ouranos said. He didn't see what he was searching for. "The Caesar won't be satisfied with his Cyclops body forever. The Psilons... they embody all that he desires."

"Yes," his voice was low.

Ouranos turned and looked at Donovan with as much sympathy as he could muster. "If you learn from the Psilons and bring to them your own expertise, you can be useful to them. Caesar already sees the Psilons as useful and if you're useful to the Psilons..."

Ryall began to nod. "Yes." He licked his lips and then squinted. "But Cronus..."

"Ignore Cronus," Ouranos said. He moved to a different file in the directory. "Start with someone else. Mnemosyne. She is kind-hearted and she is very knowledgeable about computers, memory transfer, and the like."

The doctor nodded again. Finally, a small smile crept onto his face. "Yes. Thank you."

Ouranos didn't answer. He had found the coding. Even after reading it through several times, he didn't understand where it could have originated. The newer Cyclops being trained and organized fresh out of the factories didn't have this problem. The older ones, the veterans of Nandia, for example, did. These new files were slowing down their processors. It caused hesitation and even slight power drains.

Ouranos was looking in the memory files of one of those Cyclops. He shook his head and wrote down the name of the file and the directory. _I'll have to keep an eye on that_ , he thought.

Then he pressed "delete."
XLI

**CAESAR**

141 Years Before the End

It was a dinner party with very little food.

The Caesar and most of the prefects remained in the grassy center area of the palace's grounds. Attendants stood nearby, but these people would not be eating. Prefects Curus and Aelia were still human. They ate a little, but they curbed their appetites so they could remain nearer the others.

"Another stellar electoral victory, dominus," Cleon said. His cube remained on a cart and its speakers conveyed the smarm of his voice adequately enough.

The robotic puppet of Gallian joined in. "Indeed. The Senate will remain with you for years to come."

Caesar looked at the new form of the prefect. In life, he was slovenly and homely. Naturally, he contracted with Dr. Donovan to give him a better body than he could have achieved on his own. The emperor's eyes followed the cables from Gallian's back, across the grass and into a blinking box against a fence. Caesar inhaled and silently thanked the fates he wasn't tethered like that any longer.

"My lord," Etne began, "as prefects, it is our duty to advise you on matters of state."

Maxentius raised an eyebrow and regarded her differently. Of the dozen or so prefects, she was the only one to get Donovan and Ouranos to implant her mind in a Cyclops body like his. Her technological wherewithal aided that feat. "Yes, prefect?"

She lowered her head and then turned to look upon her fellows. Most were in cubes like the Caesar used to be. Gallian and Titus had robotic marionettes. The two "living" prefects appeared nervous. "There is growing rancor in the international community..."

"Pah," Cleon said.

Etne shushed him and continued, "We have ignored the outside world since the annexation of Nandia."

"They can talk and talk for ages on end, dear," Lucanus said, "but they will do nothing. The Pact of Nations hasn't dared stand against the Empire since Caesar Chlorus two hundred years ago."

Etne nodded. "True, but the annexation did cause the Pact's Defense Committee to meet again for the first time in several decades."

"Since Strand," the emperor said.

Etne took a step toward Caesar's chair and knelt. "Imperator, I have received word that there is talk of recriminations."

Gallian and three others laughed. Caesar gazed into Etne's false eyes yet he believed he saw sincerity. Gallian spoke up, "Pay no heed to such talk, my lord. If the Pact of Nations deigns to bite at our heels, they have no teeth to harm us." Etne looked toward the sky in frustration. She was ready to answer him but the chorus of laughter from the various boxed minds proved too loud.

Caesar raised his hand and the noise subsided. "You are wrong, Gallian." He glanced at Etne and saw her smile. That made him feel better. "Tiberia is dependent on several nations for resources we cannot produce ourselves." Etne was nodding and he pointed at her.

"Embargos," she said.

"Indeed." The prefects were silent and Maxentius leaned forward. "The Empire's population is now over one billion. Our natural resource stockpiles are nearing depletion and we seem unable to find more within our borders."

Curus spoke softly, "Could we annex Eridia? They have little in the way of defenses..."

Caesar lifted his hand and shook his head. "Too far away and nearly stripped clean centuries ago. The same for Gela. That island is desolate... little point in even maintaining a presence there."

Etne stood again and backed away. "My sources say an embargo will be proposed within the month."

"I have heard the same." Maxentius leaned his face against his right hand. "I have a plan to... maintain our sovereignty and our way of life." The prefects said nothing. Caesar continued, "I will, perhaps to my own surprise, require your aid, prefects." He stood and clasped his hands behind his back. "The coming weeks will be trying for all in the Empire. I dare not share our plans now, but I will need you to speak with the magistrates and governors in your regions. Ensure peace on the homefront. Assure the people that their sons and daughters will not be conscripted into imperial service."

"Of course, imperator."

"Absolutely, my lord."

"Yes, dominus."

Caesar nodded and stepped away from the group. He glanced back at Etne and motioned for her to follow. Immediately, she trotted across the grass to be by his side. Maxentius kept looking back at the collection of boxes and puppets. The cubes were garishly decorated with false medals and swaths of fabric meant to evoke togas.

"My lord?"

Looking away from them, he said, "I have never made a secret of my distate for the prefects."

She blinked rapidly a few times and nodded. "Yes, lord?"

"You, however," he wagged his finger at her for a second, "are much more valuable than perhaps even you realize." Her eyes widened and he continued, "Your technological connections. The surveillance legislation you shepherded through the Senate some years ago. I will continue to need them both."

"Of course."

The emperor leaned in close to her and said, "I will make certain that Tiberia can survive whatever the world may do." He clenched his fist and continued, "With armies of Cyclops, I will strike out at the Pact before they may do anything."

Etne slowly pulled back and stared at him. She said nothing.

Maxentius grinned. "If we plant our flags in the soil of the nations that supply us, there can be no embargo."
XLII

**THE MESSENGERS**

140 Years Before the End

The tender entered the Gaber home in Ghattaffan and observed.

Minah Gaber remained, as did four of her children and her late husband's mother. They all worked at the farm. They all continued to eke out their existence.

"Great God," she began with her arms outstretched, "I ask that you bless our meal and allow it to fill us with energy so we might do your will. Amen." After a few moments of silence, Minah lowered her arms and said, "Let's eat."

The youngest, Jarrek, ate his bread first and ripped it apart in his teeth. Minah shook her head at him and then smiled.

The Messenger watched them and noted the happiness that seemed to remain within the mother, despite their travails. The being then looked about itself and saw the future echoes that crowded the home.

_It is almost cruel_ , it thought. _But it may be the only way_.

Once dinner was done and the children were in bed, only Minah and her husband's mother remained awake. While the elderly woman sewed, the Messenger caught Minah's attention with a sound only she could hear.

Gaber exited the house and stood on the small porch. She looked into the dark distance. The stars were visible. A light nearly a kilometer away was seen. That was all.

The being allowed Nami's existence to fill her. She felt her pain, her sadness, her frailty, and her love. The memories of her short life ran through the Messenger's mind in the instant before she spoke.

"Mother?"

Minah's head turned quickly and her heart raced. Her hair stood on end and she collapsed to her knees. She opened her mouth but it was a few seconds before the barest sound emerged, "Nami?"

The girl nodded. "I can't stay long," she said, "but it's important."

In a dash, Minah crossed the several meters of the porch and swooped the child into her arms. She squeezed her tightly and wept. "I don't care! You're back!"

The being in the guise of Nami smiled and returned the hug. "Mommy, I can't stay."

Minah rocked her back and forth for several more moments. Finally, she pulled her head away and said, "You're not really back, are you?" Her tear-soaked face glistened in the starlight.

Nami shook her head. "No. But... I needed to tell you something."

"What?"

"You need to leave." She glanced toward the house. "Everyone."

Minah's eyes darted toward the window before she turned her head to one side, "Why, baby girl?"

"War is coming." Minah didn't seem to react so Nami reached toward the house and put her hand on the wall. "Machines. And men. They're coming soon."

Minah nodded a little but didn't respond. She held her daughter's hand. "This is our home. Your grandmother," she looked into the window but didn't see the old woman, "she's too weak to travel. We can't leave her."

"But the bad machines are coming. In a few days, they could be walking through the house."

Minah smiled and squeezed the child's hand tighter. "Something happened while you were gone, baby. I met an angel. From God." Nami tilted her head to listen while Minah kept speaking, "She said that God has a plan and that we have our parts to play. We just have to have faith."

Nami looked at her feet and pouted somewhat. After a moment, she looked up and said, "What if the plan is for you to leave here?"

Minah nodded and looked toward the stars. She breathed in and out, slowly. "I don't feel like it is." She smiled at the image of her daughter and then took her other hand in hers. "I have faith."

Nami asked, "But what if I'm an angel, too?" Minah blinked. The girl smiled and hugged her mother's neck. "I love you, mommy."

Minah choked up again and tears streamed from her eyes anew. "Oh, baby. I love you with all that I am."

Nami pulled away and muttered, "I have to go now."

Minah began to protest, but before she could speak, the girl was gone. She fell forward on the porch and cradled her own head in her arms. She sobbed loudly.

The Messenger watched. As the last vestige of Nami left its being, it shuddered with an echo of sadness and regret. Still, the experiment was a success. _Faith remains_ , she thought. _Will it be enough to see her through the coming days?_

The explosion rocked the house.

The father, Rosto, jumped from his bed and looked out the window. Smoke and flames were billowing from the storefronts on the other side of the street. There was another explosion further away. He leaned out of the window and saw a plane streak by in the sky.

"Everyone, get up!" he screamed. He pulled on his pants and shoes. He slipped his arms into his shirt and picked up the cloth bag that was hanging on his door.

"What's going on, father?"

"I don't know. Clothes, now!"

There was another explosion further away.

"I just called Kari. They're leaving, too."

The father nodded at his wife and clapped his hands. "Move, move!" A bomb hit next door. Glass from the bedroom window facing the street blew across the room and cut his arm. He leaned against the wall and his daughter brought him the first aid bag. "It's not that bad. You can patch it up when we get out."

"Ready!" his son yelled from the door.

Rosto looked at his wife and daughter. They nodded and left the apartment. As they descended the stairs, tiling from overhead came loose and the lights flickered. The ground rumbled and quaked.

"Is it the Caesar?" his son asked.

"Probably," Rosto answered. They left the stairwell and ran across the parking lot to their vehicle. They were the most prepared family in the building, he thought, because they were the first to be out. A few other families, still in their nightgowns, were racing out of the doors now.

Rosto turned on the vehicle and quickly left the lot. "Food?"

"Here." The mother patted the two large bags she carried.

"Camping equipment?"

The son turned around and looked over the rear seat into the open space behind them. "It's there."

"First aid?"

The daughter answered by handing a medium-sized bandage toward the front seat. The mother peeled the paper from the adhesive and Rosto held his bleeding arm out. His wife applied it quickly and smoothly.

"Very good."

They drove through two traffic lights before they saw more fleeing vehicles. Planes shrieked overhead again. Bombs detonated behind them. As the new rumbling subsided, the warning sirens came on and screamed into the burning night.

"Late, of course."

The outlying neighborhoods began to be emptied and the highway out of the city, Auju, became crowded. Rosto slowed down and looked both north and south. All of the roads seemed filled now. He looked in the rearview mirrors and saw smoke and flame. He turned and looked out of the window. A squadron of planes swooped low and dropped their ordinance just east of Auju. The field was illuminated by the blast and rings of light expanded with the shockwaves.

"Was that the airfield?" his son asked.

"Yes," Rosto answered. "They won't strike the nefti fields south of town. That's why we're going that way."

"They need the energy for themselves," his daughter said.

"Yes."

Planes continued to streak by. Bombs were loosed and Auju continued to burn. They were on the highway for an hour before they reached the crest of the highway. Auju was five kilometers behind them, still visible, when they finally were about to drive down into the foothills of the Baetican Mountains.

"Dad!" his son yelled. "Dad!"

"What? Why are you screaming?"

"Look at the city!"

Rosto shook his head and looked in the rearview mirrors again. The fires were gone. He didn't see smoke. He only saw the normal lights of Auju.

"What the..." He stopped the car and got out quickly. He walked away from the open door and continued to stare at the city. Vehicles and trucks behind him began to beep their horns. Some lowered their windows and yelled at him. Rosto, though, was entranced.

He looked down at his arm after realizing it didn't sting any longer. There was no blood. He pulled away the bandage and felt no pain, aside from the hairs that were yanked. Underneath, there was no wound.

As he let the bandage drift to the ground, other evacuees noticed the city, too. They emerged from their vehicles and stood staring at Auju. Rosto's wife came up beside him and whispered, "What does it mean?"

He could only shake his head.

Behind them, from the south along the Baetican Mountains, they heard approaching aircraft. Slowly the people turned and they watched squadrons of fighters flying low scream overhead and toward the city. High above, bombers became visible as clouds parted. All of the vessels fired on Auju and the battle began.

As bombs detonated in the nearly empty city, fires and smoke became pillars in the night sky. Rosto, his family, and hundreds more stood on the highways outside of the city, trying to understand what got them to depart an hour before the attack actually started.

Nearby, the Messenger stood invisibly and watched their minds reel. He was weakened by that massive effort, but the being was pleased at the success of his deception.
XLIII

**CRONUS**

140 Years Before the End

The Caesar gathered all of the Psilons in his primary throne room. Banners and tapetries detailing the history of Tiberia hung from the vaulted ceiling among gleaming columns of great girth. Upon a marble and gold throne, the emperor sat atop a flight of stairs and looked down on the Titans.

"You have done well for me and for Tiberia," the imperator began. He was wearing his usual light gray tunic with some military decorations on the chest. He leaned forward in his grand chair and said, "And now I have favors to ask of you."

Cronus lifted a single eyebrow and glanced across the face of his comrades.

Caesar smiled a little and said, "Tiberia is threatened. Not just militarily, but economically, too. The Pact of Nations believes embargos are needed to choke the life from the Empire." He ground his fist into his other hand. "I will not allow that to happen."

He motioned to a uniformed officer, who then walked toward a cloth-covered board and pulled the drapery back. A lighted map of Isinnia appeared beneath. Tiberia was highlighted in red. Six nearby countries were slowly throbbing in blue.

"For the Empire to sustain... for the Empire to advance, these six nations must be added in Phase One."

Cronus' eyes widened. Coeus lifted his hand to catch Caesar's attention and the leader nodded toward him. "Dominus, wouldn't this action provoke the Pact into a military response?"

The imperator inhaled and turned toward the map. "There will be talk of it, yes. But the nations that would remain in the Pact are not, shall we say, up to the task of fighting us." Caesar turned and saw more than a few concerned faces. He smiled, caringly, and said, "Contrary to what you might have been told, Tiberian rule is not cruel. We allow subject nations to retain their cultures and have a measure of autonomy. The people are immediately put on a path toward Tiberian citizenship. In your years here, you know how much responsibility that is and the power it could mean one day for some... farmer in Saban. Or a fisherman in Lagas."

Cronus finally spoke. "You said you needed us."

Caesar nodded. "Yes. When this happens, I will need people in these six nations I can trust. Legates will take care of the military operations; that's their job. Ouranos has more than adequately prepared our armies. Fifteen whole cohorts of Cyclops in just five years." He folded his arms across his chest and continued, "Senators and consuls... and prefects," he scoffed, "will be vying for appointments." He pointed at each of the Titans and said, "But I'm going to give it to you."

"Excuse me?" Hyperion said.

"I want to name you as my praetors and put you in command of each nation."

The Psilons were stunned. Phoebe laughed out loud. Caesar smiled and Tethys said, "My lord, I... we're not politicians or generals."

"I don't want you to be either of those. You are among the most intelligent people on the planet and, beyond that, you have experienced, firsthand, the inhumanity of some people toward others, namely yourselves. You know how _not_ to behave. You could be natural leaders."

Tethys was about to speak again when Mnemosyne interrupted, "I just want to work on the Project."

Caesar nodded toward the slight woman and said, "Please, do so. The LEP will continue with your valuable contributions. I know you and a few others," he glanced around, "have been working diligently on it. You've even been working with Dr. Donovan on it and I understand you're making great progress." She nodded and the emperor added, "But you keep hitting the stone, yes?"

Mnemosyne lowered her head and answered, "Yes."

Caesar pointed at the map. "Assuria. Some of the best farmland, next to Saban and Erlitoun. They have huge fields where they do nothing but grow algae. Then they process it into foods and fuels. And," he raised a pointed finger and aimed it toward the Psilons, "outside of Attica and Nandia, they have the most advanced bioscience facilities in the world."

Oceanus nodded. "They could have everything we need."

Caesar nodded and Iapetus stepped forward. "I volunteer."

The emperor smiled and exclaimed. "Fantastic!" He looked across the others' faces and said, "I only need six of you for right now."

Cronus took a deep breath and then he took a step forward. "I'm ready."

Caesar smiled again. "Thank you."

One month later, Cronus was standing in an aeroplane as it descended toward the Alabor capital city. The Titan looked about the cabin at the Cyclops assembled around him. Their blue eyes circled and the gold armor reflected the setting sun that streamed in from the plane's windows.

_Gold armor_ , Cronus thought. Military units, one would think, should be drab colored, dark colored, or camouflaged. No, the Caesar was so confident in Ouranos' machines that he kept them ostentatious and shiny. There was no mistaking it when a century of Cyclops came at you.

The plane landed quickly. The door opened and four Cyclops exited first. Cronus stepped out and onto the tarmac. He took in a deep breath, noting how different it smelled from either Doria or Tiber.

"Praetor Cronus," a general said as he approached. He saluted with his fist atop a chest loaded with medals. "I am Legate Terrence Varro. Welcome to Derben."

Cronus saluted in return. His gray tunic and pants were bordered with purple and he wore the gold badge of his office under his throat. After the salute, he adjusted the device and moved toward Varro. "Status?"

The legate turned and began to walk with Cronus. "Derben is ours. Alabor's forces have been driven from their bases and the bases destroyed. Their air force is nearly eliminated. The army has gathered in the Getulian Desert and their navy has set sail for Tiberia, apparently. The Caesar has been notified and our navy will respond."

Cronus nodded and stopped moving. The airfield was quiet and there were few people around. Cyclops were behind Cronus and an entire century of them were standing behind Varro's people. The snap of a flag caught his attention. It was the blood red standard of the Senate; the golden eagle of Tiberia encircled the bundled symbol of that body. Next to it fluttered the blue and red flag of Alabor.

"Where is the president? Their ministers?"

Varro motioned toward a group of human soldiers. "The president and two ministers are here. A few other ministers were killed in the battle."

"I will speak to the president."

The legate saluted and began walking. Cronus followed behind and watched the soldiers lift a man from the group of prisoners. "This is President Levac Rolan."

Cronus stopped and bowed slowly toward the older man. He didn't respond. "I am Praetor Cronus. I have been charged by Caesar Maxentius the Ninth to govern Alabor in his name."

Rolan's cheeks bulged and he then spat at the ground.

A tribune behind the man reared his rifle back, but Cronus angrily waved him off. The Psilon walked toward Rolan and spoke softly, "President, you saw what these machines did, yes?" The old man glanced toward the nearest gold soldier, but he didn't answer. "They accomplished, in two short weeks, what a dozen nations were unable to do in ten centuries. They conquered Alabor. The Caesar has cohort after cohort of them, ready to go. If I give the word, they will come. And they will be relentless."

"So will we," Rolan said.

Cronus shook his head, "You don't understand. In the two weeks that these Cyclops were fighting here, only twenty-two were destroyed. That's it. How many thousands of your people were killed?" The president looked at the tarmac. "Help me govern Alabor. Your citizens will be welcomed into the Empire and the killing can stop."

Rolan looked up, defiantly. "Never."

"The Imperial Navy is intercepting yours as we speak. Your air force is nonexistent. What remains of your armies are gathered in the desert. They have no supply lines and no sources of water for them to hold out."

The president spoke with a cracking voice, "Arkaim will help."

"They would," Cronus said, "if they weren't busy with the Caesar themselves." Rolan blinked rapidly; this was obviously news to him. "Surrender your forces and no one else needs to die."

The old man looked back toward his ministers, but he couldn't see them. He shook his head.

Cronus walked away and waved Varro to him. "Legate, secure the cities as best you can. Suppress any rebellion. Keep casualties to an absolute minimum. Is that understood?"

"Indeed, praetor. But what about the army?"

Cronus thought for a moment before he answered. "Wait them out."

The legate saluted and moved away. Cronus looked toward the west and watched the last few slivers of the sun disappear over the horizon. A breeze hit him just as the light vanished and he felt doubt.

Cronus, Themis, and Coeus were looking through the glass. Theia was pressing buttons on a computer panel. Hyperion was staring at gauges.

"Vacuum seal?" Theia asked.

Hyperion glanced to his left, "Good."

Cronus looked down at his wristband. The screen was blank.

"Don't worry," Coeus said.

"I can't not worry."

Coeus smiled and leaned against the frame of the window. Inside the darkened room, a large piece of machinery was centered in the floor. A wooden platform was situated around it with only a circular coil of the machine rising through a crudely cut hole in the wood. Several rectangles of various materials were rigged with sensors and placed around the table near the coil.

"Charging now," Theia said.

Cronus looked over Hyperion's shoulder. He was watching a needle rise. "Spin is steady."

Theia's finger hovered above a large button. "Discharge in five, four, three, two, one." She pressed it.

What had been an unnoticed audible hum vanished. In the darkened room, the coil twitched but the table did not move. All of the rectangles, however, tipped slightly toward the center and then fell backward.

Theia immediately jumped up and screamed, "Yes!"

Hyperion smiled and rolled away from the panel. "Fantastic."

Coeus nodded and grabbed Theia's hand, "Amazing. Amazing work."

Cronus was smiling and looked behind himself at Themis. She was stonefaced.

"Physics was never my strongest subject."

Coeus left Theia's side and pointed toward the window. "It's a vacuum in there. No wind."

"And this wasn't magnetic."

"No," Cronus answered. "The sensors on the table were made of all kinds of things. Plastic, wood, glass, metal. Magnetism wouldn't explain all of that."

Theia hugged Hyperion tightly and their joy got louder. Coeus stepped away from the duo and said, "This was something far more powerful."

"Gravity? Artificial gravity?"

Cronus motioned toward the pieces inside. "If the coil generated a gravitational field, it would have pulled the sensors toward it." Themis looked through the glass. "They fell away from the coil."

"The same principles might later give us artificial gravity, though," Coeus said.

Cronus nodded, "True."

"Wait," Themis interrupted. "So what happened?"

Coeus sighed as he tried to think of the most basic way to explain it. After a moment, he said, as he spread his hands in front of himself, "Imagine that all of space is made of elastic. That coil just pinched space. When it released it, it caused space to ripple, and made the sensors fall away."

Themis blinked slowly and looked into the room. The simple copper-colored coil just sat there in the middle of a wooden table. "'Pinching space.'" Coeus and Cronus nodded. "Has that ever been done before?"

Cronus' wristband beeped.

"No," Coeus answered. "It hasn't."

Cronus read the device and sucked in a deep breath. "I have to go."

Coeus nodded and slapped his shoulder. "Good fortune."

He ran from the room and turned toward the stairs. He bounded up them two at a time.

_It will be fine_ , he thought.

He pushed open the door and ran across the field toward another building on the BBM compound.

It's routine now. The doctors know what they're doing.

A guard saw Cronus running and he stopped his patrol. He stared for a moment until Cronus saw him watching. He waved and kept running.

It will be fine.

He slammed into the door and darted down the hallway. Cronus turned the corner and saw Gaia and Karin Baraz standing outside of the room. When they saw him, they smiled and waved him on.

"Just in time," Gaia said.

Cronus nodded and slowed to a walk. He inhaled deeply to try and regain his normal breathing pattern. He looked into the room and saw several people in white coats.

"Here," Tethys said as she handed him a paper mask. A nurse was coming toward him with a paper suit. Cronus stepped into it quickly and slowly made his way deeper into the room.

Nervously, he approached the bed and said, softly, "Hello."

A sweaty and disheveled Rhea looked over and grinned. "I wondered where you were." She looked back down toward the doctor. He nodded and she began to breathe heavily. After a few grunts, she asked, "Did it work?"

Cronus had been staring at her bound legs and the doctor between them. He glanced toward her, confused for a moment, and then answered, "Yes."

As she breathed and grunted again, she said, "Good."

"Almost," the doctor said. "Cronus, come on."

He nodded and sidled past Tethys, Phoebe, and two nurses. The doctor backed away and moved to Rhea's left side. He leaned over her thigh and kept his gloved hand under the protruding head.

_Head_ , Cronus thought. He had done this once before but it was still a shock to see.

"There's not far to go." The doctor looked up at his patient. "Rhea, go ahead."

Rhea immediately strained and grunted. Cronus stared at her vagina and watched it flex, giving way to the child that was emerging.

"Cronus," the doctor said.

Startled, Cronus leaned forward and put his hands under the baby's head. Its face was exposed. The expression was fluctuating rapidly but no noise came from it. The same thing happened with Poseidon and it freaked him out then, too.

"Almost, Rhea."

The shoulders came next. Just as Cronus didn't think his wife could stretch any more, she did and the child's torso appeared.

"Take it, Cronus."

With his left hand under the baby's head and his right forefinger in its armpit, he pulled the child from the womb fully. The doctor leaned over and wiped some of the goo from the child's face and swiped a suction device into his mouth. He began to cry loudly.

_He_ , Cronus thought.

The nurses and their Psilon friends began to applaud. Cronus pulled his son to his chest and cradled him while a nurse cleaned him off. She clipped the umbilical cord and handed the end to the doctor who now dealt with the afterbirth and the post-birth procedures on Rhea.

"Such a bad tradition," Cronus mumbled. "Fathers pulling the baby from the mothers." The nurse smiled. "How many times have children been dropped?"

The nurse tilted her head and said, "More than a few. Less than a lot." She continued to check the screaming child and then led Cronus over to a nearby scale and diagnostic station. She looked at Rhea and said, "Has a name been chosen?"

Rhea locked eyes with Cronus and grinned. She nodded and then collapsed into the bed.

_We were named for the Attican gods of old. They were promiscuous and had lots of children with mortals and each other_. Those old stories gave him the name Poseidon for his firstborn. There was another name that caught Cronus' eye, even though the character was just a minor demigod in the old myths.

The father smiled and said, "Zeus."
XLIV

**AHLJAELA**

137 Years Before the End

Rovil was jostled against the window as the bus swerved to miss chickens in the road. The tires found traction again in the dirt and it continued up the path into the foothills of the Appenine Mountains.

"I'm tired of that fool," a man behind him said.

"You're tired of everything," his seatmate answered.

"They treat us horribly, they have those robots watching us, and they barely pay a fair wage."

Ahljaela rolled his eyes. _Not again_ , he thought.

"Those robots are doing more than watching you. They're taking your work."

"Yes!" the first man exclaimed. "There's ten fewer of us on this bus. The robots are making the soldiers themselves now. How long before we're all out of work?" His partner had no answer. "Don't believe everything you see on the Matrix. The magistrates and governors don't care about us. The senators and consuls don't. The Caesar most certainly does not care what happens to you or me. As long as our plant slaps together Cyclops quickly, the togas are happy."

Rovil turned around and whispered over the seat cushion, "I would keep your voice down."

Both men looked at him. The angrier of the two scoffed and said, "Tend your own store."

Ahljaela began to face forward, but he stopped. "There are spies for the management and government on this bus. The robots aren't the only reason there are fewer workers at the plant." He turned all the way around and looked at his lap. He listened for some sort of response, but none came.

Rovil exhaled slowly and watched the trees whip past the window. In his mind, he saw Darron. Just four months ago, Darron sat on this same bus, saying the same kinds of things. He even said the word Rovil's mother warned him about: "coalition."

After Ahljaela turned him in, Darron wasn't seen again, but Rovil was paid fifty denars.

He appreciated the money, but he'd rather not have to do that on a regular basis.
XLV

**BARAZ**

134 Years Before the End

Karin sighed and placed her hands on the table. "Alright. It's time to deal with the tiger in our face." Several Psilons at the long table nodded and seemed to straighten up. "I'm sure you all saw the latest news. Naban has officially surrendered to the Caesar."

There were some groans. A Crius raised his hand a little and asked, "And who will be their puppet praetor?"

Gaia glanced at a Theia and gave a slight nod toward her. All three Theias lowered their heads in the same way and then leaned toward their companions.

Baraz stood and straightened the corner of a piece of paper in front of her. "I don't have to tell you all how difficult this will... continue to be. You are all guilty by association, regardless of how many times I've assured investors, government officials... They can't get past the thought of your siblings fighting for the Caesar and ruling countries like dictators." A Cronus slumped in his chair a bit and Karin nodded. "It's hardest on you, Cronuses, I know." She glanced toward the other two nearby. "It seems as though he's on screen every night, trying to justify another atrocity in Alabor." She shook her head. "I knew him once, but what he is now,..."

"We have too much to offer," a Themis said. "Did the administration truly reject our vaccine just because of the Titans?"

Gaia nodded. "They did. I could see in their faces, they wanted to arrest me, too. I'm Ouranos' sister. The man who made the Cyclops."

A Coeus muttered, "Humans."

Baraz didn't hear him, "Sorry?"

He looked up and then around the table. "I said, 'humans.'" Some of the Psilons nodded. Karin stood stonefaced. "They are shortsighted. Selfish. Judgmental. Gullible. Violent."

A Mnemosyne said, "They treat each other so horribly. Sometimes out of greed because others are poorer. Sometimes... sometimes just because others are different."

Coeus shook his head and allowed his arm to flop onto the tabletop. "It feels pointless now to continue what we've been doing."

Gaia's brow furrowed and she started speaking softly. "You don't have to do anything. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to research the next big whatever. You... can simply live your life."

"How?" an Oceanus asked. "I tried. I read, wrote, painted. I absorbed all the art and literature I could within the compound, but I can't leave. And I'm not alone." He looked around the table and caught the approving nods of several other Psilons.

Baraz nodded. "You are all prisoners here. I wish I could change that, but I don't know how to." She was considering each of her words before she spoke them and evaluating how they sounded. That's why she was slow to add, "Yet." She looked up and continued, "I've talked to the government about granting you full citizenship, letting you live off campus... they haven't been agreeable to that."

An Iapetus spoke up, "Prometheus saw the Titan me on screen the other night." He held his lower jaw in his hand and continued, "He asked why I was fighting with soldiers and robots. I was so shocked... I didn't know what to say."

Karin picked up her glass of water and took a small sip. It allowed her to form her sentences just so. "Everyone in this room knows that you are different than the Titans. We all know that you were born with just the basic knowledge and information that BBM implanted within you. Your memories and lives are wholly separate from theirs. Your children don't know this just yet." She looked toward Gaia who urged her on with a smile. "Tell them that they are your brothers. Your sisters. They've... lost their way. You hope they can come home again sometime soon."

"I get the feeling that's more for our feelings than our children's," a Rhea said.

Baraz smiled. "Perhaps." She rubbed her hands for a moment and listened to the sound of her wrinkles rubbing over each other. She twisted her chair from side to side when an old memory entered her mind. "How many of you know the history of Kanda?"

Several of the Psilons just looked at each other. Only a few raised their hands.

Karin said, "Good. You'll like this." She leaned forward with her elbows on the table and touched her fingertips together as she spoke, "About a thousand years ago, the kingdom of Kanda ruled the northern third of Badaria. The queen gave birth to twins, twin sons, and she died in childbirth. Now, the nurses and doctors were so concerned about the queen and trying to save her that they lost track of which son was actually born first. The king was heartbroken, of course, but once all the mourning was finished, they had to decide which child was going to be first in line to the throne. The king, for whatever reason, couldn't choose, so he said, 'I'll decide when I get back from my fishing trip next week.' He went out to sea, a storm came and sank the ship. The king died."

A Phoebe chuckled, "Is this a fable or something?"

Karin shook her head. "No. This actually happened." Several Psilons nodded and Baraz continued, "The king's chief of staff was appointed regent. The ministers were going to decide for themselves which baby to crown, as it were, but the regent said, 'Leave it to me.' For the following decade, the regent tended to the kingdom's affairs and didn't deal with the children at all. When the twins were ten, he sat down with them and laid out the problem. 'In seven years, one of you will be king. But we don't know which one. I have an idea: how about you both be king.' The twins seemed agreeable to the plan. The ministers took some convincing but they decided having co-kings wasn't such a bad idea after all. But something happened."

"Of course," a Hyperion said.

"Supposedly, one of the twins was involved in some sort of riding accident. Don't know which one. Historians aren't even sure that part of the story is true. It might have been made up to explain what happened later." Karin leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "One year before they were to take the throne, or thrones, I guess, one of the twins decided being a co-king wasn't as good as being the sole king. His brother understood and decided to agree to whatever his brother said. So he said he wanted to split the palace down the middle; the other twin went along with it. A bit later, the one said he wanted to rule instead from a city on the west coast. So his twin let him take their seaside palace. And just before they were to be crowned, the brother said he wanted to rule his own Kanda. His twin was worried, but he wanted his brother to be happy. Like the palace, they split the kingdom right down the middle."

"Not good," an Oceanus said.

Baraz nodded. "It took a few decades, but the two kingdoms were invaded repeatedly. Conquered, eventually. Today it only exists as two small slivers of what it used to be. East and West Kanda."

A Cronus leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak. He caught Karin's gaze and he paused. His lips closed and he looked down at his hands. He spoke barely above a whisper, "What do we take from that?"

Baraz looked over at Gaia and then back toward Cronus. "I don't know. I'm not in your positions. I never have been or will be. I don't know how it feels to have..." she gestured with her right hand toward her chest and then moved it away from her body, "a part of you, out there, doing things that disgust you. That color how everyone sees you. I can't imagine." A Mnemosyne was about to speak but Karin continued, "What was it that made the one twin become so greedy? Or were they both always greedy and the one just became a better person? Are you supposed to be the agreeable twin? If that's the case, that's not fair to you." She paused and looked around their faces again. "I don't know. It's a story that I was reminded of. It's something you might be able to relate to. It might help."

The Psilons were quiet. A few stood up and Gaia said, "Good night, everyone." Once the others left, Gaia looked at Baraz. She was staring at the edge of the table.

In her head, she was reviewing the meeting and all that she said. She tried to restructure some of her words so it would have sounded more palatable to the Psilons. "I could have handled that better."

Gaia put her hand on hers. "I don't see how. We're all in a very strange place. They're trapped by the Titans and, because of them, the Dorian government. You're trapped by the government and your loyalty to the Psilons." She shook her head. "I don't know what else you could have done."

Karin looked up and grinned weakly. She clasped Gaia's hand for a second before she said, "You know what's the saddest part of that story?"

"Hmm?"

"I know they all identified with the twins, of course. But... I feel like the regent." Gaia squinted and looked curiously at her. "The man with an idea. It seemed like a good idea. He only wanted the boys to grow up and become good rulers. But everything got away from him. It all fell apart and Kanda, as he knew it, was gone in a few years. How must he have felt?"

Gaia stood and tugged on her arm. "Come on." When she stood, Gaia brushed a strand of gray hair from Karin's face and kissed her cheek.

She started to walk toward the door. Baraz stopped and looked at the empty table and its many chairs in disarray. "I just feel so... ineffectual."
XLVI

**CRONUS**

134 Years Before the End

"I'm back," he said as he pushed the door shut.

"Daddy!" Poseidon screamed. He ran into the room and leapt toward his father.

Cronus lifted him high and said, "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Mommy said we could wait until you got home."

"Uh-huh." He put Poseidon down and said, "Wait, 'we?'"

Zeus yelled, "'We!'" He ran into the living room and latched onto his father's leg.

Cronus patted his son's head and looked toward the kitchen. Rhea was standing in the door frame, cradling baby Hades and holding a bottle to his mouth. She shrugged.

"Alright, c'mon, Zeus." He playfully lifted his leg and tried to shake the boy free. Zeus only laughed. With mock urgency, Cronus said, "Let go of me!"

Zeus clung tighter and struggled to maintain his grip while he was walked around the room. "Can we stay up all night?"

"Absolutely not," Rhea said. "Come on, now. I said you could stay up until daddy got home. He's home now, so get ready for bed."

Poseidon was obedient and gave Cronus a quick hug before darting toward the bathroom. Zeus, however, did not let go of his father's leg.

Cronus bent down as best as he could and said, "Get up here." He lifted the young boy and hugged him tightly. As if to show off his own strength, Zeus squeezed his neck as hard as he could, causing Cronus to gag.

"You're choking daddy." Zeus laughed and squeezed again. Cronus tapped Zeus' arms and managed to say, "Seriously, pal. Stop."

"Yes, daddy."

Cronus took in a few breaths and held Zeus away from him. He looked into his bright blue eyes and grinned. "Were you good today?" He nodded and yawned. "Ah. You better go get ready for bed, too."

"No!"

"Yes," Cronus put him down and faced him toward the bathroom. Poseidon just finished brushing his teeth and walked to his room. Zeus shuffled down the hallway as Rhea approached her husband.

"How did it go?" Cronus looked down at Hades and smiled. The bottle was almost empty but he slid his hands around the child. Rhea let Cronus take him and she leaned against the door. "Hmm?"

Cronus swayed from side to side, looking at the little boy's scrunched-up eyes. "Karin tried to play it down. She's trying to get the Dorian government to accept us."

"They won't."

"No." Cronus brushed a small tuft of Hades' hair. "If I wasn't so frustrated, I would feel really bad for her." He looked up at Rhea. "She's trying hard. I know it."

"She still blames herself."

Cronus nodded. "Not unwarranted, but still. Her general mood is better."

Rhea smirked and said, "Gaia, probably."

"Everyone else feels as worthless and trapped as ever." He looked up and around his humble home. It was sufficient. More than sufficient. But it was all he could hope to know for the foreseeable future. "There was more talk of abandoning research."

Rhea nodded. "Did you tell them I have?"

"Didn't get a chance." He started to walk toward the nursery.

Rhea followed and said, "As nerve-wracking as these three can be, at least it feels like I'm getting something done."

Cronus gently laid Hades in the crib. The infant stirred for a moment, bringing his fist to his chin before relaxing. Cronus turned on a night light and the pair left the nursery.

When the door was closed, he glanced into the boys' room on his right. Poseidon was sitting up in bed, reading. Cronus shot him a disapproving look but Poseidon smiled. Cronus winked and walked down the hall.

"Are you going to the labs tomorrow?" Rhea asked.

Cronus let his fingers brush the fabric back of his chair. "I don't know. Maybe."

His wife picked up a small box from the counter and said, "I promised Phoebe I'd take this over tonight after the meeting." Cronus nodded. "I'll be back soon." She stepped into the sitting area and kissed Cronus' cheek. When she pulled away, he grabbed her arm and turned her around. He hugged her tightly and placed a hand on her face as she walked away.

After taking a bottle from the refrigerator and returning to the living room, Cronus turned on the screen. He looked at the menu of pages to watch and just stared. Entertainment, sport, news. His mind went back to the meeting and he pressed the button for news.

"Freedom fighters again left the safety of the Getulian Desert and raided Tiberian bases in central Alabor today." The image was of masked men running in the cover of a sandstorm, blindly firing automatic weapons. "Praetor Cronus again condemned the attacks and offered the rebels sanctuary."

The screen shifted and showed the now-familiar visage of Titan Cronus. He was gaunt and seemed many years older than Cronus himself. His eyes narrowed as he watched his counterpart speak.

"The Casear's offer for pardon and citizenship remains. No one will be harmed. The fighting _must_ stop."

The unseen news voice spoke again while the image showed scores of soldiers departing transport vehicles. "As Cronus said this from the safety of Derben, another imperial legion was dispatched to the city of Auju in southern Alabor, where rebels have been able to hold off Tiberia's forces for the better part of a week."

The emperor's soldiers crested a hill and the outskirts of Auju were visible. Rockets exploded before them and the men and women knelt, taking up firing positions. They trained their rifles on nearby buildings and began to fire short, controlled bursts. As they did, golden machines ran between them and toward the city. The Cyclops didn't slow at all as they aimed and fired at several rebel positions.

"Daddy?" Cronus was startled and turned toward Zeus. He was standing beside the large chair and staring at the screen.

He paused the program and asked, "What are you doing out of bed?"

He shrugged. "I don't want to go to sleep. I want to stay up with you."

Cronus put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him against the plush arm of the chair. "I won't be up much longer."

"What are you watching?"

"Oh, the news." Cronus glanced at the screen and saw how Zeus could be so intrigued. Large golden machine-men shooting guns with people, also shooting guns.

"Why are they fighting?"

Cronus sighed. He didn't try to shelter his sons, but, dammit, he really didn't want to explain it all to them so young. _Best to keep it simple_. "There's a man in a different country... he wants things that aren't his, so he sends these armies to take it."

"And robots?"

"And robots." Cronus looked at the frozen image. He felt angrier.

Zeus leaned toward Cronus' ear and whispered, "Are those humans?"

Cronus turned and looked at him for a few seconds before asking, "Why?"

"I heard mommy talking to someone about humans." The child said the word like it was a new, foreign language he was learning. Cronus nodded and Zeus asked, "Are we humans?"

The father grinned and said, "No. We're not."

"Oh."

Cronus looked at the display. It might have been the nearby half-empty bottle of alcohol, but he felt himself growing angry again. A rifle's muzzle flash caught his eye and he stared at it while a heat swelled within his body and ran toward his face.

"Humans, Zeus," he began. "This is why we're better than them. We're smarter. We're stronger. We don't do that," he said, pointing to the large screen.

Zeus' eyes widened and he looked into his father's as best as he could in the dim room. "Fight, daddy?"

Cronus nodded. "That's right."

Cronus lifted his head from the table. He blinked slowly and looked at his generals. "I am... beyond sick of excuses."

"Understood, dominus," one said.

"No. I don't believe it is." Cronus stood up and pointed at the map of Alabor. "Yet again, general, you have allowed the rebels to leave the sandstorms and enter the areas that we're supposed to be holding fast." He stared at the man, waiting for him to react. He didn't. "Is this not your role?"

"It is, praetor."

Cronus waited for elaboration. He raised his eyebrows and opened his arms. Still, the general said nothing. He inhaled deeply through his nose and asked, "Have you nothing further to offer me?"

"No, dominus."

Cronus nodded and sat behind his desk again. "You are relieved of duty. Return to Tiber."

The man blinked once, slowly, and then looked toward the legate. Her expression was unreadable.

"Is there a problem? Get out of my face."

The general stood and began to salute. He didn't, though, and left the office.

Cronus shook his head and stared at the door. "I have had nine generals fail me like him in the last six years. He is the second to... resent me so openly." He glanced toward Legate Fava Sergius and added, "Because I'm a Titan? A Psilon?"

The young senator and general tilted her head and said, "Entirely possible, praetor."

Cronus looked at her curling red hair and her angular face. She was still unreadable. "There's something else." She shifted. "Something you haven't said." Sergius didn't respond. Cronus sighed and tossed a pen to the tabletop. "Speak your mind."

The legate's shoulders lowered and she crossed her legs. "I've served with you for under a single year now." Cronus nodded. "In that time, you have ruled Alabor fairly and firmly."

"I have tried."

"Unfortunately," she interjected, "the Alabor you rule is not the entirety of the nation. A full two-thirds reside outside of your control."

"That would not be the case if my generals didn't constantly disobey me," his voice had risen to that of a yell and he quieted for the last portion, "and undermine me. Because of them, I have the reputation of a butcher."

Sergius nodded slowly. "That may be, but if I might, lord..." Cronus gestured toward her. "Your methods are not those of Tiberia. You wish to spare the lives of those who take arms against us. In the past, the armies are fought relentlessly until they surrender. The survivors are then welcomed into the family of the Empire."

Cronus looked at her and leaned his face into his hands. While maintaining eye contact, he spoke from between his fingers, "Go on."

"You are a Psilon, yes. But beyond that, you are not a Tiberian."

"The Caesar has granted me citizenship and named me praetor..."

"Yes," Sergius interrupted, "but you do not act like it." Cronus didn't stir and she sat forward, "You must do something to demonstrate your own resolve." He began to protest but the legate continued, "I know you've been here for six years, trying to get everything under control, but that's not the kind of resolve that a Tiberian officer respects."

Cronus leaned back and turned toward the map. Most of the desert was colored blue and a few cities in the south were blue, too. "You are the magister. You carry the Caesar's eagle and standard."

"Yes, lord."

"As praetor," he turned to face her again, "I am the emperor's hand and you follow my orders."

"I do."

He nodded and stood. "Come with me." The duo left the office and stopped by the desk of his assistant. "Please ask everyone with a rank of imperium within the building to join me on sublevel three."

"Yes, dominus." The man began to press buttons on his computer.

Cronus and the legate left the room and turned toward the elevator. Once the lift began to descend, it stopped on several floors, picking up a general here, a tribune there. Two subconsuls joined on one floor. All of them were polite. None asked why they were going where they were. When the elevator landed in sublevel three, the dignitaries emerged and turned left. Another lift opened up and disgorged its passengers into the throng.

Cronus walked to the guard behind glass. "Let me see the list of prisoners."

"Of course, praetor." The young man fumbled for a moment in surprise before sliding the papers under the window.

Cronus studied it for a few moments, removed a pen from his pocket and marked three names. "Bring these to interrogation room one."

"Yes, lord." The guard leapt up and left the room. Another guard opened the security door for the group.

Several people were chattering amongst themselves as they walked the stark hallways of the security wing. When they came to the interrogation room door, they walked inside quickly and filed along the back wall. The generals looked at the praetor, waiting for some sort of word. Cronus said nothing.

_It has to be done,_ he thought. _Six years is too long_.

A few moments later, guards entered the room with the prisoners Cronus requested. Three Alabor army leaders. A general, a major and a captain. The guards forced the trio to kneel before the praetor and then they stepped back to stand against the wall.

Cronus breathed slowly, controlling his emotions. He looked across their faces. The general and the captain seemed as stone. The major was nervous and scanning the room.

"What remains of the Alabor army is now part of the rebel movement," Cronus said. "You were all captured attempting to resupply and transport these fighters." The three officers made no sound. The Psilon knelt and said, "Tell me where the rebels are based. Tell me how you get supplies. Tell me what remains of your forces."

The general and captain said nothing. The major turned his head and looked at his comrades. Then he went still.

Cronus stood and approached one of the guards. "Sidearm."

He complied and handed the weapon over.

The general smirked and said, "You cannot threaten me."

Cronus looked at the weapon in his hands. He flipped a small lever up and said, "I know." He took a deep breath. Then he quickly aimed and fired the gun, the bullet striking the general in his heart. As the spent cartridge dinged against the floor, he fell over, bleeding. The major screamed but the captain continued to look straight ahead. "Captain?" She shook her head. Cronus nodded and fired again. She toppled over, too.

The major screamed. "Frak!"

Cronus knelt before him and rested the barrel of the weapon on his knee. "Where are the rebels based?"

The major's breathing was deep and erratic. His eyes went all around the room and then he lowered his head. "In the mountains just west of Auju and in two oases. Taba and Negev."

The Titan looked behind him to see several in the audience writing the information down or tapping on their wristbands. "How do you get resupplied?"

Without looking up, the major said, "Tunnels that lead into the border town, Baija. The tunnels go into Arkaim."

Cronus nodded. "What remains of your forces?"

The major tilted his head and shrugged. "Before we were captured, we had three armored columns hidden near Taba. Two battalions there. Three battalions in the hills outside Auju. Three battalions in Negev with a small squad of attack gyros."

"And that's it?"

The major somehow sunk lower and nodded. "Yes."

Cronus stood and straightened his uniform. With a flick of his right arm, he fired the gun, striking the major in the top of his head. As the man listed, the praetor handed the weapon to the guard and turned to face the group.

"There you have it. Unleash the full might of the Caesar's forces upon them."

"Yes, lord."

"Absolutely, dominus."

"Yes, praetor."

Cronus looked toward Legate Sergius and she gave a small, approving nod.

The crowd began to filter out of the room. A couple of tribunes and generals lingered to shake the praetor's hand, but it was a subconsul staring into his wristband and leaning against the wall that drew Cronus' eye.

The Psilon walked toward him, catching the shorter man somewhat unaware. "I'm sorry. You are?"

"Intelligence Subconsul Gnaeus, lord." He shook Cronus' hand and kept his wristband out of sight. "I am very pleased to see this side of you awaken." Cronus didn't answer. Gnaeus smiled and said, "In fact, I have a small favor to ask."

"'A favor?' Those are often anything but."

The subconsul smiled and said, "Yes, but I believe this is an exception. Plus, I will immediately repay it once you agree."

Cronus inhaled deeply as guards entered the room to remove the bodies. The praetor put his hand on Gnaeus' shoulder and led him into the hallway. "What are you asking?"

He lifted his chin and adjusted his shirt slightly. Gnaeus looked down the hall and then up into Cronus' face. "I would like to be named quaestor of Alabor."

Cronus stood still and then smiled. "Quaestor?" When Gnaeus nodded, the Psilon laughed. "Of course, you want to... make yourself comfortable in the remaining years of your service to the Empire." Gnaeus bowed slightly and grinned. Cronus shook his head, "I know that kind of thing is as old as the Republic, but..."

"Before your decision is final, lord," Gnaeus said as he held up one finger, "allow me to present my side of the favor."

Cronus paused and then nodded.

"I am the intelligence subconsul..."

"And I managed to do your job in mere moments."

Gnaeus shrugged and said, "True, praetor, but I am new to Alabor. My previous posting was in Tiber where I remotely oversaw agents in western Isinnia."

Cronus' eyes narrowed. "You have my interest."

"I came across some information a while back. I shared it with Caesar himself." Gnaeus shook his head. "He did not want it shared with you. 'A distraction,' he said it would be."

Cronus looked at the floor and his mind raced. Without lifting his head, his eyes darted to the small man and that smile. "And you are certain this information is valid?"

"It is, dominus."

"And that I want it enough to allow you to... extort from the Empire?"

Gnaeus' mouth twisted and he said, "I would certainly want to know."

Cronus looked toward the subconsul's hidden wristband. "Would you share the basics with me before I agree to it?"

Gnaeus inhaled sharply through clenched teeth and said, "I would, praetor, but I wouldn't want to end up like those fellows." He pointed down the hall at the body bags being carried from interrogation room one.

Cronus looked toward the ceiling and thought. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. "Very well, quaestor."

Gnaeus' smile widened and he bowed. He lifted his arm and pressed a few buttons. "I've sent the data to you, but I ask that you not read it until I've left your reach." Cronus stared at him as he walked away, sidestepping a trail of blood drops from a leaky bag.

The praetor raised his arm and saw the blinking message. He pressed the light on his wristband and the file opened up.

His eyes danced across the words. "Pausa, Doria... Baraz Bio Medical... Psilons... Three Cronuses, three Rheas, two Coeuses... awakened. Researching..."

"'Awakened,'" he said out loud. He looked back and read the report more slowly. "After the desertion and defection of the original twelve Psilons (Titans), Dr. Baraz awakened the remaining bodies of each type." He pushed his finger harder onto the glass and the lines of text scrolled down, "... performing research of various types, including medicine, physics, botany, computers ..." Press. "An undetermined number of the Psilons have paired off, siring several offspring..."

"Children," Cronus mumbled. He leaned back against the wall. He felt lightheaded and he looked up toward the white lights in the ceiling. The dizziness gave way to heat. To anger. He clenched his fist and pounded it into the brick behind him.
XLVII

**ZEUS**

134 Years Before the End

Zeus was awakened by the sound of something heavy falling in another room.

The six-year-old sat up and rubbed his eye before seeing that Poseidon was already out of bed. "What is it?"

Poseidon pulled the door open slowly and looked down the hall toward the living area. He jerked his head away from the crack and looked at his feet.

Zeus climbed out of bed and walked to his older brother. Something else fell in the living room. There was a high-pitched sound... like an animal, trapped, but very distant.

"What's going on?"

Poseidon shook his head rapidly and looked to the cracked door again. He turned to Zeus and without looking in his face said, "When I go, you follow."

"Where are we going?" he whispered loudly.

Poseidon became angry and put his finger to his lips. "Hades' room." He looked into the hallway and said, "Don't look down there."

And he ran.

Zeus was surprised by the speed, but he quickly followed. It was only a few steps to Hades' door so he already entered the room before the thought of looking to the living room occurred to him. Poseidon pulled him into the nursery and closed the door quietly.

Someone shouted in a hushed voice down the hall, "Ille me succidit!" Zeus looked at Poseidon. Neither of the boys understood the language. Another person made a quieting hiss. Wood floorboards began to creak.

Poseidon turned to the crib and pulled the sleeping baby from it. Hades stirred and twitched but Poseidon pulled the infant's favorite blanket with him and fed a corner of the fabric into his mouth. Instantly, the boy began to suck on it and he seemed placated.

"What do we do?"

"Liberos non video," someone said in the hall.

Poseidon pointed under the day bed. Their parents rested there when they had to tend to Hades late at night. Zeus ran under first and tossed the blanket up. Poseidon got down onto his knees and slid underneath as quickly as he could.

"Nec filios occidere nolo."

Someone answered, "Ea sunt mandata nostra."

Poseidon pulled the edge of the blanket down over their faces. He looked back at Zeus and the little boy was pressed tightly against the wall. His eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily. Poseidon put his fingers to his lips again.

The nursery door opened.

The brothers looked toward it and could see only the lower part of a boot as it stepped inside. When he moved forward, the bed's blanket concealed the intruder.

Zeus closed his eyes and he tried to imagine where the man was. The floor creaked. He was at the crib. It creaked again.

He was at the bed.

Zeus opened his eyes in time to see the mattress being lifted up. The boys looked and saw the face of a helmeted man staring down at them through the slats. The barrel of his rifle seemed enormous.

The man's mouth was hanging open and he breathed heavily. Zeus put his arm on Poseidon's shoulder and the older brother put his hand on top of it.

From down the hall, a voice said, "Quicquid?"

The man exhaled. His eyes were wide and he stared at Poseidon and Zeus for several moments. He said, "Non vero," and lowered the mattress. As he walked from the room, he asked, "Tu?"

The other person answered, "Minime. Deinde secundum destinatum eamus."

A few moments later, the footsteps and creaking floors were gone. They never heard the door close. Poseidon and Zeus stayed there under the bed for an hour more before Zeus began to push his big brother.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

Poseidon shook his head. "It might not be safe."

"I'm going to pee!" He was still whispering but he was loud. "I'm going to pee on you!"

Poseidon turned toward Zeus, trying his best to look over his shoulder at him. "Try to hold it until morning."

"I can't!" Just as Zeus finished his protest, they heard the front door of the house burst open.

From the living area, there was a scream. Both Zeus and Poseidon were startled and they jumped. Zeus wet the front of his pajamas a little before he was able to regain control.

"No!" the person yelled. "Cronus!" It was a woman's voice. Zeus thought he recognized it and he tried to squirm out. Poseidon reached back and held him still.

"No! No!" It was a different woman screaming this time. The loud, distant voices awoke Hades and he began to squirm. After a moment, the woman asked, "Where are the children?"

Then they heard more footsteps darting about the house. Doors being opened. Poseidon tightened his grip on Hades, but his squirming was becoming too pronounced. The baby's face scrunched up and then a wail erupted. Poseidon clapped his hand over the infant's mouth, but it was too late. Zeus began to struggle and slide out of the end of the daybed when the door flew open and the light came on. The children froze. Someone dropped to the floor and lifted the blanket.

It was Karin Baraz. Her face was red and wet with tears. Her mouth quivered and she said, "Thank God." She reached under the bed and took Hades from Poseidon's arms. "Come on. It's safe now."

Poseidon was reluctant but he began to move. Zeus had already emerged from the foot of the bed. When he stood up, he was face-to-face with Gaia, who was kneeling behind Baraz. She was quiet, too, and her face was also streaked with tears. She hugged him and Zeus returned the gesture for a moment before he whispered, "I have to go pee."

Gaia smiled and stood up. "Come on." Zeus looked back and saw Karin awkwardly holding Poseidon and cradling Hades. He took Gaia's hand and watched as Poseidon began to cry.

Zeus was confused. His throat clenched, seeing his older brother upset like that, though he didn't understand why. Zeus was about to ask Gaia what was going on when they got to the bathroom door. He glanced toward the living room and saw his mother and father lying on the floor. Their faces and bodies were bloody.

His stomach sank and Gaia ushered him into the toilet.
XLVIII

**CAESAR**

134 Years Before the End

"What news from Doria?" Cronus said from the screen.

The imperator moved from the wooden chair and across the conference room. He saw the reports in his head and he forced himself to check his anger. "Your siblings have been eliminated."

Cronus nodded. "And the offspring?"

"The last word I received stated that twenty-four children were killed."

Cronus took in a deep breath and looked out his office window in Alabor. "Thank you for this, dominus."

Caesar gripped the edge of his cape and tossed it back. He jutted his chin toward the screen and asked, "Tell me, praetor. Do you feel better?"

The Psilon looked into his monitor and raised an eyebrow. "My lord?"

"Do you feel... better?"

Cronus blinked and then nodded. "I do."

The emperor clasped his hands behind his back. "Why?"

Cronus started slowly and softly. "They were copies of me. Of us. It was a... betrayal of trust. We were duplicated without our knowledge." As he spoke, he became visibly agitated. "Beyond just the duplication, they were awakened. They were given our lives. The freedom that we should have had... those Psilons were an affront to all that we endured."

Caesar nodded twice. "So, revenge?"

Cronus clenched his fist and spoke again, "Not revenge. They were us. It was... an odd form of suicide."

"And the children?"

The Titan shook his head. "Abominations. We were created and crafted by masters of the sciences for years. We are the ultimate personifications of what life can be. Those children... they are corruptions of our code."

"But diversity in genetic coding..."

"Impurities, imperator," Cronus interrupted.

Maxentius didn't care for that. Anger swept through him and the metallic flesh on his arms rippled as he prepared a response. "Are you certain you're not simply angry at having been sterilized all those years ago?" Cronus looked away and seemed to be in thought. Caesar decided to press ahead. "I know you were expecting the team to bring back materials and intel from BBM's compound." Cronus nodded. "You won't be getting it."

"Why?"

"Because the Dorian military intercepted and shot down the transport before it could cross the Baetican Mountains."

Cronus lowered his head and pounded the desk. Caesar gripped his hands hard.

"Mnemosyne and the others are still working on it," Cronus said. "There will be backups of the Titans very soon."

"Yes," Caesar said, drawing out the "s" sound. "And what about expanding that knowledge to others? Can Tiberia benefit from your immortality?"

Cronus swallowed hard and nodded. "Of course, dominus." Caesar began to walk away and was about to turn off the connection when the praetor asked, "How long shall I remain in Alabor?"

The emperor turned and held his hand in front of his torso. He made a slight show of his consideration of the question. "Your recent efforts against the insurgency have been effective."

"Yes, my lord."

"See them through." With a thought, Caesar turned off the screen.

While he moved back to the throne, the line of prefects emerged from the shadows and slowly moved toward the platform. All were in Cyclops bodies at this point. Some appeared more lifelike than others.

"Troubling, dominus," Gallian said. His absurdly muscular form seemed to strike a pose as he continued, "This Titan... he was too consumed by his, uh, siblings."

Caesar nodded and sat on the plush cushion in his chair. "I understand why, to a point. I felt as though I owed them to some degree. But his desires... and his lack of action, until recently, have left us vulnerable."

"When did you find out about the Psilons in Pausa, lord?" Cleon asked.

"Two years ago." A few of the prefects seemed surprised. "I didn't tell him because I knew it would be a distraction."

"As it has been," Gallian said.

Etne stepped forward, "And what of the subconsul who disclosed the information, dominus?"

The emperor rolled his eyes. "A worm. Cronus has named him quaestor for Alabor." A few of the prefects gasped. "He will extort his way through the office and when his term is up, he will disappear."

"Phase One of the Expansion has been a success, save for Alabor," Etne said. "But the blockades are beginning to take their toll."

"Not just blockades, imperator." Lucanus stepped around Etne and bent toward Caesar. He looked at the man's Cyclops body and noted the visible joint lines and its general inferiority compared to his own. "Trade with Eridia has been reduced to nothing."

"They were our best customers," Titus said.

Maxentius looked to his left at the map of Isinnia. Tiberia and its new holdings were in blue. Trouble spots were highlighted with yellow circles. "Gela is of no use to us now. We will quietly abandon it. That will save considerable money and manpower."

"Yes, dominus," Aelia said.

"As for the Expansion, we will have to work our new citizens that much harder."

"And Alabor?"

"Oh," the emperor smiled, "Cronus will remain praetor for the foreseeable future. He despises it."

"A worthy punishment for his conspiring with that quaestor, lord," Gallian said.

"And what of Doria?" Etne looked at the imperator, waiting for an answer. When none came, she continued, "They destroyed a Tiberian military craft, killing an elite company of the Empire's soldiers."

Caesar nodded slightly. _Not to mention the secrets they still hold_. Etne knew all about that. He had spoken with her several times on the matter. "Yes." He looked back toward the map and said, "We will order our factories to increase production of Cyclops." The prefects nodded and spoke their approvals. "The Expansion is not yet finished."
XLIX

**BARAZ**

134 Years Before the End

Gaia touched her arm again.

Baraz was startled and she looked over at the woman. Gaia was nodding across the table. Karin turned and saw five strangers; one of whom was seated there. A female police officer in her uniform and another military officer in his were nearby. The seated man spoke next.

"I see that you're distracted... that's understandable." He motioned toward one of the other suited men and he dropped a card on the table. "Our investigators will be on campus for at least the rest of the day. We'll speak to you if we need additional information."

Baraz stood up and said, "What about Tiberia?"

"What about them? They've overrun half the continent in the last decade and the rest of the world is shocked into coma." He lowered his head and said, softly, "I'm sorry, but I don't believe they'll have anything to say about three dozen murdered lab experiments."

Karin's teeth ground together and she grunted, "People. And twenty-four children."

The man nodded. "But not everyone thinks the same as you." He nodded toward Gaia and said, "My best."

The group left the conference room and Baraz sat back down. She sighed and her chest seemed to cave inward. "Did I miss anything when I drifted off?"

Gaia sat next to her. "No. I mentioned the intel you got about the plane that was downed in the mountains, but they wouldn't confirm anything."

"And the inventory of the medical labs?" She rubbed her forehead. "I know they were taking materials from the download chambers before they destroyed all of the units."

"They did. I have the full list." Gaia put her hand on Karin's shoulder. "You don't have to do this now."

"If I don't," she straightened up, "no one will." Then she reached across the table and pulled a glass pane toward her. She pressed a corner and it lit up.

Gaia sighed and watched her. "Karin?" The doctor didn't answer. She rubbed her back and said, "Karin, listen to me."

Baraz finally looked up and mumbled, "What?"

"A decade ago, you dropped everything to try and give me justice." The doctor pushed the pane away. "You spent weeks in embassies and government offices. You paid bribes and bought information. You dealt with every unscrupulous person between Pausa and Tiber." Gaia picked up Karin's hand. "You spent years trying to get somewhere. In the meantime, you lost control of everything here. The Titans were treated like experiments." Baraz's eyes drifted toward the windows. "It's not what you wanted, but that's what happened."

"I regret it every day."

"I know."

"If I had paid more attention," Karin inhaled, "millions of lives might have been spared."

"Maybe." Gaia turned her chair around and crossed her legs. "We'll never know." Baraz stared at Gaia and made no movement. No sound. "I mention this to point out that you have another chance." Karin's brow furrowed and Gaia continued, "Instead of going down that path again and getting nowhere, turn your attention toward the ones who need it."

Baraz's lip shook and she started to speak, "But we lost all of them."

"I know." Gaia squeezed her hand. "They won't be coming back. Their children remain."

Karin turned and looked at the door. After a moment, she stood and left the room with Gaia right behind her. Silently, they rode the elevator down several levels. When it opened, they strode into the hallway and passed two police investigators as they mapped the building on their paperwork. They stopped in front of a closed door. Baraz's hand hovered over the handle. It trembled and then she grasped it and turned.

She was hit with a wall of noise. There was chatter and crying. Screaming and yelling. A few younger children were running in circles around the seats but most of the Psilons' remaining twenty-one children were huddled together against the back wall, holding each other and talking.

"I thought Lisa was here to watch them?" Karin asked.

Gaia nodded. "I'll go find out what happened."

As she left, Baraz walked into the room and began clapping her hands. "Children!" A few looked up but most were still carrying on. One of the runners came by and she grabbed her and pointed her toward a seat. "Children, please!" She sat another child down and Gaia reentered the room with Dr. Onesi. "Are you hungry?"

Most of the children answered affirmatively and Lisa spoke meekly, "I was heating up some soup."

"Good. Please see to that." Baraz looked back at the children. The oldest was nine. There were babies being held by older brothers and sisters. Most had bags under their eyes and they were all still in their nightclothes. Several were whimpering, only just having stopped crying for the first time in hours. "Let's, um... Gather 'round, children."

A few got up and moved to seats closer to Karin. Some stayed against the wall. She saw Poseidon cradling baby Hades. The poor older brother's head was leaning into the corner of the wall and he was fast asleep. Polemos was holding and rocking his baby sister, Bia. Antaeus sat in the lap of his older sister, Hyria. Twins Antero and Ate sat next to each other, mirror images of despair. A little girl, Hera, sat on the floor under the seat of her chair looking at Baraz. Her wide eyes glared at Karin and the doctor could feel the waves of fear still coming off her.

Gaia stepped forward and clapped her hands. "We need to talk, everyone."

"Excuse me," one small child said as he patted Gaia's leg, "when is mommy and daddy coming home?"

Gaia put her hand on the boy's head and directed him toward an open chair. "Sit down. We'll talk about it."

"You older children,..." Karin began, "you understand better than the rest." She caught the stares of a few. Prometheus and his brother, Epimetheus. Arcas. Ersa. They seemed exhausted. "We're going to need your help in the coming days. Some of you have younger siblings already, but we'll need you to treat everyone like your younger brothers and sisters, alright?" A few of the children nodded.

"I want mommy," a girl said. Her older sister tried to shush her but the little one became indignant, "No, Asteria! Where is mommy?"

"Quiet!" she said.

Karin knelt down and looked at the younger girl. "What's your name?"

She said, "Leto."

Baraz nodded. _Coeus and Phoebe's daughter_. "I'm very sorry, Leto, but... your parents are not coming back."

The girl's face soured and her eyes began to water. She opened her mouth to speak but a little boy several seats over said, "I told you!"

"Shh," Gaia said. "Quiet."

Leto flopped over onto Asteria's arm. When Karin stood up she looked at the boy who yelled. It was Zeus. Unconsciously, Baraz found herself staring at him.

Zeus noticed and said, almost whispering, "Everyone's mommy and daddy is dead." Gaia touched him to quiet him, but he kept talking. "I saw mine. They were on the floor."

Karin nodded and tried to swallow past her own clenching throat. "Yes, Zeus. That's enough now."

"I want to go home," someone said.

"I know," Baraz said. She took a step toward Gaia and looked into her eyes. The deep, dark brown was especially reflective. She was ready to cry, too. Karin cleared her throat and spoke low enough for only Gaia to hear, "They can't go home again." She nodded. "It's not safe here."

Gaia licked her lips and turned to face the door as she spoke, "Caesar will try again. He wants the materials needed to become a Psilon." She glanced back at the children and added, "He may want to finish what he started."

"I'm not certain this was only the Caesar's doing." Gaia's eyes narrowed for a moment until she thought the same name that Karin had. Baraz inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "We need to leave."
L

**THE MESSENGERS**

133 Years Before the End

"Shh," Minah said. She kept her finger against her lips and turned to the crack. The moonlight created a bar across her face. She didn't get too close. They were all lying in the dirt under the planks of an old walkway in front of a store.

"Audivistine aliquid?" a centurion asked.

"Cur?" another soldier answered.

The centurion looked from the storefront and into the night. "Ego aliquid audivi."

He stepped onto the planks above Minah's legs. Dust fell from it onto her. Some fell in her face. She turned her head, hoping she wouldn't have to sneeze. _God help us_ , she thought.

Suddenly, the men jerked their heads and ran off the walkway.

Minah listened carefully. She could hear their steps on dirt, receding. She turned back to her three children. She could barely see them, but she knew they were scared and hungry.

"Mommy."

A chill ran down Minah's spine and she turned back to the crack in the planks. She looked through and saw Nami standing above her.

"Come on. They've gone."

Gaber took in a deep breath and shuddered as she did so. She tapped the legs of her children and began to shimmy out from under the walkway. She looked across the path and saw no one, so she emerged first. When she stood erect, she saw Nami standing there, smiling. It was disconcerting, to say the least. But this wasn't the only time her late daughter had appeared to her to help them escape the Tiberians.

"You have to go west," the young girl said. Gaber looked back at the walkway and watched the last of her children leave it. They brushed themselves off and Minah waved them forward. "The trees? You see them?"

The children ran along the side of the building, in front of Minah and therefore easily within sight of Nami. They didn't react. It was confirmation, again, that only Minah could see the girl.

Gaber nodded and began to follow. She whispered, "They seem far."

"About a kilometer," Nami said as she ran alongside Minah. "There are small areas with bushes along the way. You can duck inside those easily enough until you get to the trees."

Minah looked back at the small town they left. "The soldiers?"

Nami smiled and said, "They're busy watching the people captive inside the church. And keeping an eye on the river north of the town."

"Where are we going?" her oldest son said.

"To those trees. We'll hide in bushes along the way."

They began to run.

Gaber glanced around and didn't see Nami. A minute or so later, they reached the first clutch of shrubs. They leapt down a small slope and into them. A couple of birds flew away into the starry sky. Minah closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath.

"Mom?" her daughter said as she held out a bottle of water. Gaber nodded and took a sip.

A moment later, they looked out from under the branches of the plants, saw no one, and ran to the next hiding place.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived in the forest. The trees were tall and the ground was covered in leaves, acorns and needles. It crunched as they walked and the children seemed nervous.

"Tell them not to worry," Nami said. "There's no one around."

Minah smiled, "It's fine. Just walk." Reluctantly, they did, but they still stalked from tree trunk to tree trunk, looking around, just in case.

"Keep walking until dawn," Nami said. "After the sun's up, you'll leave the forest and find yourself on a road." Minah slowed down and watched the girl speak. "Thousands of refugees will be on their way to Ghassan. There are camps there taking care of people, giving them food..."

"The Caesar hasn't invaded Ghassan?" Minah asked.

Nami shook her head. "Not yet. You'll have time to gather your strength and then we can move west again."

Minah sighed and nodded once. She trotted a bit to catch up to her children. When she did, she glanced back and saw that Nami was gone.

The Messenger watched, however, as the family continued their march. For hours it kept guard until they joined the caravan of weary souls on the long road west.

The being felt the call of its companion and it departed.

"The echoes begin to fade," the Messenger said.

The other tender just arrived and looked toward the field of battle. Tiberian soldiers walked over the corpses of Naban's meager resistance. While the invaders carried automatic weapons and fought alongside Cyclops, the dead had no armor at all and little more than hunting rifles. "You have seen much death."

"I have walked as both victor and defeated. I have led soldiers to their goals... I have led victims from doom."

"You have saved many of them."

"For a time," the male said softly. "I have spared many thousands one day only to have most killed on another."

The Messenger moved toward her companion. She took the form of Minah Gaber and sought to comfort her fellow tender in a motherly way. "I, too, sense the death of humanity. Do not forget that humanity is the tree... though I find branches that continue to grow."

The first being seemed confused and he looked up, "This gives you hope?"

"It does." They drifted into the battlefield and passed a squadron of marching machines. The beings stared at them as they moved before alighting near the body of a fallen commander. "You are focused on all of humanity."

"I am."

"You cannot see the drops in the ocean." The other being was confused as the first continued, "Some time ago, you tried to change the path of an individual."

"I failed."

"Yes, but your aim was not off. Your methods were not wrong for I have employed them myself."

The Messenger paused and then said, "You have been observing and influencing beings with limited sway on the growth of all."

"Perhaps." She gave up Gaber's appearance and glowed with her usual blank energy. "But through my presence with individuals, I have a greater understanding of the whole. And do not discount the effect of... 'limited' individuals on all the world."

The despondent tender began to understand. "Do you believe I should take up with an individual? To see things through their lives?"

"I do. And not just theirs, but those who follow that line, as well. When one life ends, there are others that may grow on from them."

"I will try."
LI

**TITANS**

131 Years Before the End

"For too long, Ghattaffan has been kept down." Tethys continued to stare into the camera and she tried her best to ignore the crowds of generals and advisers behind it. "Alabor and Arkaim struggled over this land for centuries. I know you would scoff and say, 'Now Tiber is here.'" She shook her head. "This is different."

Tethys lifted her head and managed a slight, confident smile. "Yes, Tiber is here. Yes, the citizens of Ghattaffan are on the path toward citizenship in the Empire. Beyond these things, Ghattaffan is now in a position to rule itself. For the first time in centuries, this nation can rid itself of the things that poison it from the inside. Once these toxins have been expelled, Ghattaffan can grow and flourish."

The people in the room applauded and pre-recorded crowd noise was added, too.

"Unsavory elements have usurped the will of the people. These minorities managed to corrupt the former leadership of Ghattaffan into accepting their ways to the detriment of the majority. This cannot stand. This should not stand. This will not stand under my rule." There was applause again and Tethys raised her hand to quiet it. "Effective today, I am directing Ghattaffan officials at a local and national level to shut down Ramani communities and seek out practitioners of that faith."

She leaned forward and cast a stern look into the lens. "Whether in their cults or on their own, we will find these people. We will find them and separate them from civilized society. Only then can Ghattaffan blossom."

"Case number five one five, zero ninety-nine," the court attendant said. "The Assurian people versus Goran Tol Abdel."

Bound by handcuffs, a young man was led into the chamber. Once he entered the raised holding pen, the guard latched the cuffs to the steel rail. Hyperion squinted and looked at him from head to toe. He was very thin, possibly malnourished. The Psilon glanced down at the file on his screen and saw that he was arrested just five days ago. _That's not our fault then_.

The prosecutor resumed her place behind the lectern. "Honors, Abdel is charged with treason and insurrection."

The Tiberian general nodded and looked toward Hyperion. He, in turn, looked to his right. The lone Assurian member of the tribunal was sweating, again, and he stared straight ahead. The praetor looked at the prosecutor and asked, "The evidence is incontrovertible?"

She nodded once. "Yes, my lord."

Hyperion lifted the stone sphere and smacked it on the stone pedestal. "I declare you guilty of all charges."

The young man's face bunched together and he lowered his head. As he began to sob, an older man stood in the gallery and began to move toward the lectern. "My lords? My lords?"

The Tiberian general rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Again."

"The convicted has the right to provide witness before sentencing is passed," Hyperion said. "Do you have someone to speak for you, Mr. Abdel?" Of course, the Titan knew he did.

"Me, my lords." He stepped before the lectern and accidentally stumbled into the prosecutor. She backed away and covered her nose. "I am Goran's father." He was breathing heavily and his voice cracked as he spoke. "He did not do anything wrong. He was pulled off his bicycle by police..."

"He has been found guilty," Hyperion interrupted. "At this point it is a matter of sentence."

The young man cried again and his father futilely reached toward him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do." He looked toward the panel with his mouth hanging open. Finally, he nodded and said, "I can make an offer."

Hyperion raised a single eyebrow and said, "Approach." Tentatively, the man did and the praetor asked, "What can you offer us?" He nodded toward the convict. "What can he offer us, for that matter?"

"I operate an algae farm, lord."

The general and the Psilon laughed. Hyperion leaned over the bench and studied the father's emaciated form. "I doubt that." He was about to protest but he was interrupted. "Even if I believed you, all algae farms have been seized for imperial use. We don't need you." He waved him off and the father turned around. His shoulders slumped forward and his feet scuffed across the tile floor.

The general leaned toward Hyperion and whispered, "The boy didn't do anything violent but he's from a town where we've had some trouble." The Titan nodded and the general added, "Execute."

Hyperion reached across his desk to two plastic cards. The one on top read, "Labor." He pushed it aside and lifted the one that read, "Death." He then turned it toward the Assurian panelist. The large man's large eyes glanced over and he nodded quickly.

"Goran Tol Abdel," Hyperion said, "prepare for sentencing." He whimpered and his father moved toward him.

"Death," the general said.

Hyperion looked toward the Assurian jurist and he cleared his throat. Softly, he said, "Death."

The Psilon said, "Death." He waved his hand and guards approached the holding pen.

"No!" his father yelled. Goran reached toward him but the chains kept him close to the rail. They screamed repeatedly and the older man collapsed on the floor, wailing.

Hyperion sighed and said, "Come on, now. We have four hundred more trials to get through today. There's no time for this."

"Why won't they listen to me?" Coeus asked.

"I do not know, lord." The general glanced nervously toward his subordinates. "Perhaps they simply don't understand all of your edicts?"

"Excuses!" the praetor leapt from the vehicle and began to run across the tarmac. The Tiberian officers were right behind him. "I have been here for years! They don't respect me!"

"I don't believe it's respect, dominus," the general said. Coeus looked behind him and then slowed. "I'm not certain what it is."

"Lies," the Psilon growled. He stopped running and turned. "I hear people talk. I know you don't like me as praetor." The officers began to protest and Coeus said, "No! You say things about me. Bad things." He leaned forward and grabbed the front of the general's tunic. "You shouldn't say things about me."

"Of course not, dominus."

The Titan turned and continued to walk toward the cropdusting plane. The pilot was standing by the fuselage and he lifted the panel by the tank. Coeus nodded at him and removed a flask from his coat. He sniffed the cap and then poured the contents into the reservoir. After the pilot saluted and got into the craft, the group walked back to their vehicle.

Once the plane lifted off and flew toward the many hectares of growing food nearby, the general spoke softly, "Dominus, what was that?"

"A poison." The officers looked at each other warily. Coeus smiled, though. "The crops will die in a matter of days and then... then the people will have to come to us for food. They'll have to depend on us." He nodded. "That's what they need."

_A decade_ , Cronus thought. _Nearly a decade here_. He looked along the riverbank and allowed his eyes to hover on each of the kneeling prisoners.

Legate Fava Sergius stood next to him and pointed at an older woman nearby. "This is the one intel says was the director." Slowly, the praetor turned his head toward her. He squinted despite the lack of sunlight. "I know, dominus. We found multiple codebooks and encrypted computer slates in her home." She handed one such panel over. "Her fingerprints were all over them."

He tapped his fingers on the illuminated glass and saw images of the Empire's airfield outside Auju, before it was bombed. Cronus sighed and slowly turned his head away from the river.

"I am... so very tired of this, legate."

She nodded. "I understand, praetor. Alabor is full of dissent. It's their nature."

"It's not my nature to deal with them in this way."

She took a step closer to him and leaned against his left arm. Her proximity forced Cronus to look at Sergius and he saw the breeze displace a wave of her bright red hair. He blinked a few times and listened to her low voice, "Over the last few years, you have dealt with insurrection in this manner. On occasion. It was necessary."

"Perhaps."

She touched his arm. "It was. You would have utterly lost the respect of your generals had you not. You would have lost your imperium and perhaps the emperor would have recalled you in disgrace."

Cronus tilted his head, "Disgrace may be preferable to this."

She gripped his arm. Tightly. "Never say that." The praetor looked deeply into her eyes and she continued, "If you are to truly be Tiberian, if you want power... never accept disgrace. Do whatever must be done to avoid it. Do whatever must be done to achieve your aims."

The Psilon glanced back toward the prisoners. "My aim is to leave Alabor."

Sergius smiled and Cronus' gaze was drawn to a warmth in her eyes. "Then do your duty, praetor. Perhaps the Caesar will grace you with retirement."

"Not likely," he muttered. _Still, there's hope_.

He walked back to the river and pointed at a prisoner. The guard behind the man fired. His skull ruptured and he slumped forward into the water. He pointed at another person. Another shot. Another. Another.

There remained only three prisoners. Two whimpering teens and the elderly organizer of this cell. "Stand them up," he said as he looked toward the boys. "Unbind them." He pointed toward the woman and said, "Her too."

The teens' sobs slowed and they closed their eyes in silent prayer. They stood and nervously looked around at the guards while trying their best not to look at the dead bodies. "What do we do now?"

"You go home," Cronus said. "Live a normal life. And tell everyone you know what you saw here today." They nodded.

The praetor looked at the old woman. Her chin was held high and she seemed to be grinning. With a quick, smooth movement, Cronus pulled a handgun from his belt and shot her in the face. The boys screamed while her body slowly collapsed.

He sighed and looked toward Sergius. She nodded and gave him an understanding smile.
LII

**AHLAJELA**

127 Years Before the End

"Please, master. Whatever you may spare." The man pushed through the group of beggars and into the marble building. He left nothing behind.

Sado Ahljaela left the throng first and resumed his resting position in the shade of an adjacent storesfront. The collapsed crate shifted when he sat and Sado held it in place with his hand. He sighed and looked toward the sky.

"You're new," an older man said next to him.

Sado nodded. "New to town. That's all."

"No family to go to?"

Ahljaela looked down at his feet. "No. None that would have me." _Certainly not after all my father did_ , he thought. _'Traitor,' my grandmother said. He sold names to the factory bosses. It's dirty but I understand why he did it._

"Let me guess." The dirty man rubbed his matted beard in faux thought. "A soldier? You were a soldier."

Sado grinned a little. "What gave me away?"

"You still look clean. I'll bet you've been in the street for a year, at least."

Ahljaela said, "Almost two years."

"Ah," the man slapped his leg. "See? If I see a beggar like you, clean like you, I know they're a soldier." He nudged Sado and added, "Or that they haven't been a beggar long."

Another well-dressed man left the marble office building and the throng dove upon him. He lifted his arms and case above their hands and nearly ran to the street where he entered a waiting taxi.

"Used to be, a person like you would have no fortune getting anything from their people."

"Why is that?" Sado asked.

"You don't look desperate enough." The old man smiled. "You're not dirty. Your hair is short and clean. Your clothes aren't so bad."

"Are you saying I would have a better chance now?"

The man shook his head. "No. Now, no one's got a chance. There's too many of you out here."

Sado let his head fall back against the wall. "Damned Cyclops," he said. "The machines have pushed us out of the military."

"Hmmm. A mistake if you ask me."

Ahljaela nodded. "Outside of officers, the entire Tiberian military will be Cyclops in the next two years." He looked at the man and added, "Can you believe that?"

"I can. Same's true in factories, you know." He sniffled and looked across the road. A young man in a suit was looking at a piece of paper and trying to nonchalantly examine the group of beggars who now nearly assaulted a businesswoman on the sidewalk. The old man slapped the side of Sado's leg. "There's something."

Ahljaela watched the man nervously pace near his vehicle. He kept looking at the group and then turning back to his piece of paper. "Yes. Why is he nervous?"

"He knows if he comes over here, he'll get mobbed."

Sado began to stand up, "Let's go to him then."

The old man smiled and reached his hand up. "Let's go." The younger man grabbed his hand and pulled him up. As they walked along the side of the store, Sado wiped his hand on his pants.

The duo looked along the street. There was little traffic. They began to cross and the older man said, "Pretend like we're not even looking for him." Sado nodded and the pair moved toward the sidewalk between two parked cars. The suited man spotted them and walked over.

"Excuse me," he said.

Ahljaela and his partner stopped. They didn't say anything.

"Do... either of you have any experience in machinery?"

"I do," the old man said. "My daddy was a Cyclops." Sado slowly turned and looked at him, concerned. "One night, I seen him pull his face off and there he was. Robot man."

The suited man took a step back and Ahljaela spoke up, "I served two tours in Saban, one tour in Eshnu. I worked on military vehicles off and on the whole time."

The man grinned a little and nodded. "Alright. That sounds good. I've got some equipment that needs working on."

"If you've got the tools, I've got the talent."

"Let's go."

Sado looked back at the old man who winked. Ahljaela nodded and understood. When he and the suited man reached the vehicle, Sado grabbed the passenger door handle. His new employer waved his hands, "No, no. In the back, please."

Ahljaela looked in the rear of the truck and saw various buckets, toolboxes and more. There was a layer of leaves and dirt. As he climbed in, he realized he was cleaner than anything back there.

He drove for twenty or so minutes before reaching a neighborhood with large estates. Sado got out when the truck stopped. "Grab that blue box there," the man said.

Ahljaela complied and walked up the steep driveway behind the boss. They turned right into some tree cover and emerged next to a couple of old garages. Lawnmowers, saws and other items were laid out on the ground. A few had been partially taken apart.

"Fix as many as you can. The guy who used to have my job... he just bought new things when the old ones broke down. No point in doing that if the old ones can be fixed, right?"

Sado nodded and opened the toolbox. "Right." He studied the nearest grass trimmer for a moment and then looked up at the man, "Assuming I can get at least a couple of these working, how much can I make today?"

The suited man tilted his head from side to side and said, "Two denars. Get them all working and I'll make it three."

Sado's stomach sank and his throat tightened. _What a waste of time_. He looked across the array of tools and nodded. The man left and Ahljaela took the engine cover off the first lawnmower. _Maybe tomorrow will work out better_.

The male Messenger remained nearby and watched the hope rise, fall, and then rise again in Sado. The being experienced it with him and thought, _I see the allure of remaining with one line of people. Their perserverance is remarkable._
LIII

**OURANOS**

125 Years Before the End

Ouranos stared at the blank computer screen. His waiting reflection disgusted him.

His hair was mostly gray. His cheeks were becoming puffy. The lines under and around his eye became valleys unto themselves. Ouranos, the original Psilon, was getting old.

When the report finally filled the monitor, he blinked slowly and leaned away. He squinted and read aloud the number at the bottom of the chart. "Three hundred sixty thousand?"

Out of more than six hundred thousand Cyclops in the Caesar's army, that's the number that developed the files Ouranos had been searching for and deleting for years.

"Is that the month's total from the legions?" Donovan asked.

"Yes." Ouranos shook his head and sighed. "I haven't scanned private Cyclops yet."

Donovan slowly stood and ambled across the laboratory floor. Ouranos looked at him as he approached. _At least I haven't aged that badly_. "You know it will be nearly that much."

"Yes."

"There's almost as many manufacturing and... civilian Cyclops as there are soldiers." Donovan leaned against the edge of the workstation. "Have you told anyone else?"

Ouranos leaned back in his chair and muttered, "No."

Ryall shook his head. "I'm telling you, we have to."

"No."

"It's been six years since you figured out what's happening. You have to tell someone."

Ouranos turned toward him slowly. "Why?"

Donovan laughingly scoffed. "It could change everything."

"Not as long as I keep doing this," he said as he pressed "delete."

Ryall shook his head and walked back toward his own workstation. Just before he sat down, his computer beeped. "Hey... Hey!"

Ouranos spun around quickly. "It did it? It sequenced?"

"Yes!" Donovan jumped up and said, "One hundred percent. The whole thing!"

Ouranos stood and darted across the room. He stood behind Ryall's chair and looked at the screens. Everything seemed in order. "I can't believe it. It worked."

Donovan leaned forward and laid his face in his hands. "All this time. It's over. It's really over."

Ouranos felt a nagging doubt. He breathed through his nose hard and said, "Run it a second time."

Ryall looked over his shoulder, "Why?"

"We need to be sure."

Donovan was about to protest but he lowered his head and said, "You're right." He typed on his panel as Ouranos went back to his chair. Several minutes later, Ryall said, "Six hours."

And they waited.

Five hours later, there was a different beep. It was the door.

Ouranos was startled from his sleep and glanced back toward Donovan. The old man was asleep in his chair, his head thrown back and his mouth open toward the sky. The door beeped again and Ouranos went to it. He pressed a button and it slid open.

"Hello, father," Cronus said.

Ouranos' eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. "What are you doing here?"

Cronus chuckled. "We haven't seen each other in more than a decade and that's how you greet me?"

Ouranos blinked a couple of times and said, "You're right. I'm sorry. Come in."

Cronus nodded and walked into the lab. He scanned all of the empty workstations and settled his eyes on the still-sleeping form of Donovan. "Keeping busy down here, eh?"

Ouranos nodded. "Yes." He looked at the younger Psilon and noticed he was still wearing his military uniform. "What brings you to Tiber?"

Cronus walked slowly toward Donovan. "Your work, of course."

The old doctor began to stir. He looked up and saw the approaching Titan. "Cronus?"

"Praetor Cronus..." he corrected.

Ryall straightened in his chair and said, "Yes. Still in Alabor?"

Ouranos watched his "son" as he clenched his jaw and said, "Yes."

"What about our work drew your attention?"

Cronus smiled toward Ouranos and said, "Well, I know that ever since we Titans regained the ability to duplicate ourselves a few years ago, you two have been working on a way to translate that process over to anyone else. The Caesar, yourselves..."

A tingling warmth flushed over Ouranos' body. _Something's not right_. "And you know something."

Cronus maneuvered behind Donovan and looked at the doctor's screen. "I know that, several hours ago, you successfully sequenced yourself for duplication." Ryall seemed confused and looked toward the stone-faced Ouranos. The elder Psilon gave nothing away. "I know you've already successfully scanned your mind for such a purpose but it was the... organic component that escaped you."

"How do you know we solved it?" Donovan asked quietly.

Without taking his eyes off Ouranos, he said, "I installed a watchman on your system a long time ago."

Ryall looked at Ouranos but couldn't get a read on his expression. He stared up at Cronus and asked, "Why?"

"I had to be sure I could stop you."

Ouranos felt the hairs on his neck and arms stand up. Donovan looked away from Cronus and as he did, Ouranos sprinted. Cronus removed a pistol from his jacket and fired once. The bullet struck Ouranos in the groin and he ran forward into a workstation divider before falling back onto the floor, grabbing his crotch and moaning.

"Sorry about that," Cronus said. "I was aiming for your leg."

Ryall began to roll his chair away from Cronus as he asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Using his gun, Cronus motioned for Donovan to keep rolling away. He complied and Cronus began typing on the panel. "I've been in virtual exile for fifteen years. The Caesar won't have me back." The computer screen asked him to confirm the cancelation of the sequencing program. As he touched keys, he continued, "I knew that you two would continue on the Life Extension Project, even though most of the Psilons have moved on to become praetors or do something else."

Ouranos slammed his hand on the desktop and tried to stand up. The pain became excrutiating and he collapsed against another nearby desk. Cronus shook his head and kept working.

"It's petty, I know," Cronus said. "But I can't let Caesar have what he wants as long as I'm stuck where I am." He pressed a few more buttons and then stood up straight. "We Psilons might outlive our usefulness if he can live forever."

Cronus stared at Ouranos and waited for a reaction. None came. Donovan, however, rolled forward a little and asked, "What are you going to do with us?"

Ouranos winced. Partly from the pain; partly from the knowledge of what the answer would be.

Cronus backed up and placed the barrel of his gun against Donovan's temple, pushing it forward and forcing Ryall's head to turn and face Ouranos. "Sorry." He pulled the trigger. The opposing side of the doctor's head departed, leaving a trail of red mist and pink-grey bits to fall to the floor. Ouranos turned away and grabbed his own wound more tightly.

Cronus pulled a small box from his waist and pressed a button, "Centurion?"

He waited and then the speaker crackled, "Yes, praetor."

"Stand by for departure."

"Yes, dominus."

Cronus replaced the communicator on his waist and then tucked the weapon into his armpit. He pulled a pair of gloves from his pockets. After sliding into them, he held the gun with two fingers and ran a cloth over its surfaces. Ouranos straightened up again and sighed.

"Nothing to say?" Cronus asked. He then pulled Donovan's chair toward him and clear of the desk. He wrapped the dead man's hand around the grip and placed a limp finger against the trigger.

Ouranos sighed again and shuddered. "No. You're too far gone. Alabor, Caesar... the scientists at BBM. They've frakked you up." Cronus smiled and aimed the weapon at Ouranos. The bleeding man said, "Remember all those years ago in the lab, when you found the copies of yourselves?"

Cronus narrowed his eyes for a moment and thought. "Yes."

"You said, 'They made us better,' and I agreed with you."

"Right."

Ouranos licked his lips and slid a little down the front of the desk. "I was wrong."

Cronus was expressionless and then he smiled. He lifted Donovan's arm and squeezed the finger. The bullet struck Ouranos' chest. He gasped for air and slumped to one side. Cronus aimed again as best he could, and fired. The next bullet hit Ouranos' face, just under his eye. He gurgled and twitched for a second and then went still.
LIV

**ZEUS**

120 Years Before the End

Zeus wrapped the fabric around his upper arms. The air around him was sucked toward the open window more forcefully now. He squinted and tried to see through the blowing sand, but he couldn't.

"I wondered where you were," Hera said. He looked toward her and then quickly in either direction down the hall. She rolled her eyes. "There's no one around."

Zeus smiled briefly and then pulled her to him. He gripped the free portion of her wrap tightly and squeezed. She gasped and parted her mouth just before he hovered above it with his own. After they kissed, he released her and looked out the window again. The wind in the storm subsided somewhat. In the distance, the gleaming white, three-sided pyramid, Nahaten's Tomb, stood. The ancient monument to Badar's greatest fayrakh loomed over Fardan, the exiled Psilons' home for most of their childhoods.

She stood next to him. "Dr. Onesi knows."

Zeus inhaled sharply and shook his head. "Did you tell her?"

Hera glared toward him. "No. Of course not." She turned her shoulder to Zeus and peered around the corner of the window. "She saw us two days ago. In the gardens."

"Frak." Zeus rubbed his temples and shook his head again. "We have to be more careful."

"Illogical," she said. "We are adults. We can decide how we live."

Zeus didn't respond. They've had this discussion too many times already for his tastes. "How was Karin today?"

Hera paused and thought. "The same. Why?"

Zeus looked down and kicked his foot a little. "We talked yesterday. I couldn't tell how she felt."

She moved closer and put her hand on his arm, "You told her?"

"I tried," he began, "but I didn't quite get the words out."

Hera stroked his arm and looked at the sandstorm again. "There'll be more chances."

Someone behind them cleared their throat.

Zeus turned and saw Karin Baraz slowly unwind a portion of the wrap from her head and neck. Hera backed away quickly, bowed toward Baraz and walked away from the window and down the hall. Karin stood still and watched Zeus. The young man did nothing. Then, he slowly lifted his chin.

Baraz grinned and walked toward him. "There are fewer who don't know than do. Do you know where I stand?"

"I can guess."

"She is your sister."

Zeus tilted his head, "Genetically. We had different parents."

"But the same parents, too, in a way." Karin shook her head and glanced toward the sandstorm before stepping next to Zeus. "What if you have children?"

"We are surrounded by scientists," he held his arms out, "and if there are problems, we can correct them in the womb."

Baraz nodded and looked at Zeus' hair. It was nearly half gray now. She smiled and used her forefinger to push a few strands of silver from his forehead. "Genetics are unpredictable."

He smiled, too. "They are. Looking at Cronus and Rhea, you wouldn't guess that one of their children would be completely gray by the time he's thirty."

"No, I would think you'll be gray well before then."

Zeus took Karin's hand from his hair and held it. His thumb ran over her knuckle and he saw how wrinkled it was. "I love her."

She patted the top of his hand and said, "I know. I advise against it but," she shook her head, "I don't want our second chance to be marred by me telling you what to do."

Zeus inhaled sharply and walked to the window. He put his hands on the ledge and looked into the reddish-orange haze. "And yet..."

Baraz lowered her head. "'And yet,' what?"

He looked toward her without looking at her, "We are here. We take classes. We are forced to... study, continuously. To find fields wherein we may contribute." She moved toward the window and he continued, "I and a few others are tired. We want to pursue the things that interest us. Not the things you tell us to pursue."

Karin nodded. "What do you remember of the days before the end in Doria?"

Zeus thought and then shook his head. "I remember playing with Poseidon. I remember the day Hades was brought home."

Baraz smiled at the memory and said, "Your parents, everyone's parents, were working toward a better world. They worked in medicine, botany, energy, computers, everything. They looked at the news and they saw their mirror selves, the Titans, and they were ashamed." She patted Zeus' hand again, "They wanted to set themselves apart. They didn't want to be seen as the Caesar's puppets."

Zeus nodded. "But, we don't have mirror selves." Karin looked into Zeus' brilliant blue eyes and he continued, "We are already different."

"You are," Baraz said. "The outside world, though, the world wearied by wars with Tiberia and Titans, may not agree."

She looked out the window and Zeus watched her stare. He didn't answer her. Her last statement was something he had not considered.
LV

**AHLJAELA**

117 Years Before the End

"The Caesar will hear us!" the man shouted. The heavy paper megaphone was unwieldy but it got his voice over the din of the crowd. "We are the workers of Tiberia! We have lost our homes! We are hungry! We are hungry for food and for work!"

The crowd roared and Sado Ahljaela smiled. He clapped his hands above his head and looked around. Today's rally brought out several hundred. Not as many as yesterday's, but that was to be expected.

"Machine-men fight in our wars. They work in our factories and on our farms. They have our jobs! We want them back!"

Ahljaela cheered.

"Have you heard the latest news?"

A few in the crowd answered back, "No."

"Tiberia's unemployment rate." Many in the audience groaned. "Up again to twenty-six percent." Sado shook his head but most in the group voiced their displeasure out loud. The leader waved his hand, "That's not the end of it! That's not the end! We're hearing about more factories switching over to Cyclops exclusively! Is Tiberia for the people?" He waited for an answer and didn't get one. "It's supposed to be, but it's not! It's not right now!"

Sado nodded and he heard a murmuring in the crowd. He looked behind himself and saw people begin to part and run away. "They're here!" someone yelled.

The leader screamed from the platform but Ahljaela was trying to leave. He looked back and saw a group of about twenty silver Cyclops with blue coverings moving through the crowd. Some people were hit with batons; others were struck by stunsticks. Three of the machines leapt toward the stage and caught the speaker. He didn't resist but he did scream when his arm was broken in an attempt to cuff him.

Thirty minutes later, Sado entered a park nearest the river. He walked through several play areas and then made his way under a pedestrian bridge. An old woman forcefully poked her head out from under a blanket-tent. She recognized him and smiled.

"Good day," Ahljaela said. The woman nodded and retreated back into her shelter.

He walked between a pair of concrete supports and crouched to get under a wayward shrub branch. Within that large bush was arrayed his possessions, his bedroll, and his wife.

"You're back sooner than I expected," Gasta said.

Sado nodded and crawled onto his blanket. "Police broke it up again."

She shook her head. "I guess that's just the way it will be from now on."

Ahljaela laid on his back and stared up at his plastic ceiling. Beyond it, he could see several limbs and a small squirrel, sitting and eating an acorn. He sighed and felt a pit in his stomach grow. Even if he had food, he wouldn't have wanted to eat.

"Ooh," Gasta said. "Feel."

Sado rolled over and put his hand on her belly. It was very small but he could feel the baby kick. He smiled at her and then kissed her hand. "I can't let our baby be born here. We'll think of something."

"I know," she said. She leaned down and kissed his cheek.
LVI

**CYCLOPS**

116 Years Before the End

The human centurion lowered himself from the rocks and looked down at what remained of his century. In the last four days, he had lost a third of his soldiers to the combined forces of the Pact of Nations.

"Alright," he said. "They still have their big guns, the big twenty calibers. They only have the two, though." He held his hands up to simulate their positions. "They're on the wall here. You'll see them easily enough. They have shielding, too, so it'll take a direct hit through the vent or a well-timed grenade."

A subtribune asked, "What about air support?"

"Tied up to the south." He looked back to his fifty-odd machine-men and said, "I saw the uniforms of Thorians and Atticans up there with the Tyrians. They are all well-trained and well-equipped infantries. They have their twenties, they have their RPGs, but you are better than any of them." The centurion didn't think the Cyclops could feel pumped up by his speech, but he was saying it for his own and his human attendants' benefits, too. "We have been ordered to take out the emplacement and hold it until the Fifteenth Legion arrives tomorrow night. Until then, we will be the only century in northern Tyria. Is that understood?"

All of the Cyclops nodded their heads quickly and said, "As you command."

One unit watched its commander walk past and toward the gap in the rocks. It looked at its companions as they readied their weapons. The unit decided that it, too, should make ready.

"Launchers?"

Four Cyclops moved forward and dropped a large canister into the barrels of their weapons. They aimed them skyward and fired when the centurion said to.

The unit's left arm twitched. It looked down and then it held its arm out. Its hand shook. The unit was confused, but it quickly ran a self-diagnostic. There was no damage. It gripped the barrel of its automatic rifle and that steadied the tremor.

"Smoke's up," the subtribune said while looking through a scope.

The centurion heard distant yells and then inhaled deeply. "Cyclops, move!"

Suddenly, the air was rent by the noise of dozens of running machines. Once in the open field, they spread out and the enemy fired upon them.

The unit scanned through the smoke and saw the wall with its turrets. Humans were assembling along its length and preparing larger weapons. It lifted its weapon and aimed, squeezing the trigger. Its bullets missed. It fired again and hit the wall. It decided to stop running and crouch. Being more steady, it took aim again and fired. The bullets found their marks and two humans fell.

From the turrets, the loud thrums of the Thorians' twenty-caliber machine guns drowned out almost every sound, save for the occasional grenade explosion. Through the smoke, the unit could see the muzzle flash from the huge barrel as it fired. The flash came toward it.

A running Cyclops barely three meters away was chewed by the projectiles. Six, seven, eight, nine times it was hit. The sound of the bullets clanging against its armor was as loud as the firing of them.

The unit went to its comrade and examined it. Four of the impacts were on its chestplate and were embedded deep in the gold metal. Two found their way into the neck machinery. The comparatively lighter and less protective metal was splayed wide open and severed wires dangled from the wound. Another impact cracked the protective glass of its sensor ring. The blue eye no longer swept. Its arm twitched and the unit backed away, unsure if it still functioned or if it was a side effect of being deactivated.

The thrums of the twenties erupted again. A Cyclops nearby launched a grenade toward the wall and was immediately hit by two rounds. This startled the unit and it turned to face the emplacement.

It started to run. It took aim again and fired at humans along the wall. It had now reached the halfway mark of the open field. It fired again. A human fell back, struck by its bullets. As it aimed at another distant group, the twenty on the right found it.

The first round hit its chest and made a loud, metallic thunk. The second grazed its hip and pushed a small panel of metal ajar. The unit then fell to the ground.

Why did it fall? It lay on the grass, staring into the sky while it considered the question. _Why did I fall? Is it because I have seen others fall when they are struck?_ Then it thought a simple, short word over and over again. _I_.

A grenade exploded nearby and it turned to look at the smoldering crater.

_Why do I remain on the ground?_ Its diagnostics were finished. The damage was superficial.

Its fingers brushed along its chest until it found the dent made by the bullet. It dug into the pit and felt the projectile still there. It held it up against the smoky sky and turned it over and over. Squashed as it was, the round was huge. The base of the cracked bullet was the same diameter as one of the unit's fingers.

_I am uninjured. I should rejoin the battle_. Its right arm probed the grass for the rifle. Its fingertips found the handle and it pulled it toward itself. With a jerk, it sat upright and scanned the field. Eleven other Cyclops had been hit by the twenty-caliber machine guns and were lying motionless. Some units were at the base of the wall already and were lobbing grenades toward the turrets.

It stood and began to run. As it did, it ran to the right, the side nearest the rocky outcroppings of the Baetican Mountains' foothills. It studied the rocks and how the wall was placed along them. It didn't fire as it ran.

Once it got within ten meters of the wall, the sound of the firing twenties seemed like explosions unto themselves. The humans were trying to aim the barrels down to the wall, firing into the Cyclops clamoring up the bricks. None made it more than halfway up.

The unit ignored them and leapt onto the rocks. A grenade bounced off the machine gun nest's protective shield and landed under the unit. When it exploded, shrapnel and rock peppered its legs and back. The unit paused for a moment and then jumped to a small rock ledge by the wall.

The centurion couldn't have seen it from the opposite side of the field, but the wall was vulnerable here. The unit began to fire down at humans as they ran ammunition to soldiers along the fortification. A few Cyclops down below saw what was happening and began to climb the rocks, too.

The unit jumped some eight meters from the rocks and landed in the pathway behind the stone wall. The wall was ancient, protecting a small region in the foothills for centuries, and these modern weapons were new to it. The unit lowered a metal bar across a door, preventing more soldiers from exiting a supply room within the rocks. It then turned toward the wall itself. The path was jagged to prevent explosive force and debris from reverberating along its length. It crouched low and began to stalk.

When a human appeared, it fired. Three Thorians fell and it turned a corner where it saw several Atticans. It pulled a grenade from its waist and threw it down the walkway. The noise of the large machine guns concealed both the Cyclops' advance and the clanking sound of the canister as it rolled and skipped across stone. It exploded, throwing two men over the wall and forcing the rest to fall. When they moved, the Cyclops fired.

After another bend in the walkway, the unit found itself at the protective door to the twenties' turret. The four men inside were still firing down on the field and along the wall. The unit jammed a grenade into the locked door handle and pulled the pin. It leapt back to the bend in the path and saw three Cyclops crouched there, waiting. When the grenade detonated, the door blew open.

The four Cyclops stood and ran to the turret room. One man was slumped over and two were holding their heads. The fourth was holding a smaller machine gun as blood streamed from his ears. The tiny bullets bounced off the machines' chests and they quickly dispatched the soldiers.

The unit checked the twenty-caliber gun on the right as the other three examined the one on the left. The unit then activated its internal radio, "Centurion, machine gun emplacement secured. Proceeding to clear the wall."

"Excellent work. Carry on."

From the locator beacon, the unit could tell that the centurion and his staff were still at the rocks on the far side of the field. It lingered on that thought for a moment before it looked down at its left hand. It was twitching again. A diagnostic revealed no damage, of course.
LVII

**CAESAR**

114 Years Before the End

"Forgive me, dominus, but advancements have been slow in coming," Prefect Titus said.

The Caesar regarded her newer Cyclops body. Like most of the elite these days, she wore a skin-like plastic covering over her Cyclops machinery. He looked across the room at the couple dozen or so prefects, senators, legates, and tribunes. The highest classes in Tiberian society, they were fast becoming immortal like Caesar. Caesar, though, kept his liquid metal flesh. He appreciated its versatility.

"I understand your displeasure, prefect," Maxentius said. "Dr. Donovan's murder of Ouranos and subsequent suicide was a great blow," he fought the urge to spit at having to say the doctor's name, "but we have some of the greatest minds in the world working on the Life Extension Project."

"Have you given thought to broadcasting the desire for fresh minds as you once did, lord?" a tribune asked.

Caesar nodded and said, "I have, though I don't believe the rest of the world would be receptive, given current events."

The prefects nodded and Gallian said, "That brings to mind our difficulties with the Pact of Nations."

"Indeed," Senator Blasia, one of the few humans in the room, began, "the PN's military actions, blockades, and embargoes are having a greater effect on Tiberia than we had prepared for."

"We're flush with income from the new territories, senator," Prefect Curus said, glancing toward Caesar as if to glean some sort of approval. "Some industries have suffered, but as Tiber's influence grows, so does her wealth."

"One would not know that by walking the streets, prefect." Senator Tullus said. He used an older Cyclops body with its joints still exposed. "Unemployment rates are ridiculously high and..."

Prefect Cleon interrupted, "The Caesar is generously taking the unemployed to war-torn areas so that they may aid in the rebuilding efforts."

"That program, prefect, is on the decline, thanks to more Cyclops units being introduced to the workforce." Cleon said nothing and Tullus continued, "Resident unemployment is still above thirty percent. Many of our cities have fallen into disrepair. Hunger and disease stalk the camps of homeless in every urban area of the Empire." A few of the prefects openly scoffed.

"Thank you, senator, for bringing this to my attention," Caesar said. "I have kept a wary eye on the Cyclops situation. Last week, I gave an order to our factories to slow production of non-military units."

The senator bowed and Prefect Gallian said, "Very wise, dominus. Might I also suggest a measure of debt forgiveness?" Some of the other prefects and senators looked toward him. "I know many of our patrician friends earn a great deal in the moneylending business, but minor debt forgiveness has gone a long way toward stifling plebeians' cries in the past."

Caesar ignored him and moved toward the large wall map of Larsa. "The Pact of Nations also concerns me greatly. They are attempting to enforce the Accord, a document that is hopelessly outdated."

"Nearly five hundred years old, imperator," a legate said.

Caesar nodded and continued, "Thanks to Thoria and Attica, our forces have been stalled in Tyria and Ordoga for years."

"They developed weapons and countermeasures to our Cyclops units far faster than we believed possible," Prefect Etne said.

"Yes," the emperor said. "New designs were implemented a few years ago and more of those units are entering the service now. My legates, magisters, and I," he glanced toward them and the uniformed men nodded, "will order the legions to pull back to the borders of these regions and allow the new Cyclops to fill out the ranks. We will hold the lines. Some day soon, they will push forward and when they do, hopefully, they will prove more hardy."

There was a knock at the door and a Praetorian Guard leaned toward it. He spoke through the crack and allowed a young woman into the room. Caesar recognized her as an intelligence subconsul. She looked around at the assembled elite before the emperor waved her forward.

She paused a few meters away and saluted, "My lord, I bring urgent news to you."

He motioned with his open palm and said, "Come."

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward, "Your orders were to present news of this nature to you in private."

Caesar smiled a little at her nervousness and waved her toward the far corner of the marble room. "Excuse us, please." The prefects and others turned away and spoke among themselves. Once they were in the corner, the imperator said, softly, "Very well, subconsul."

She swallowed hard and took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Some years ago, you asked the intelligence division to find whatever remained of Baraz Bio Medical from Doria."

"I recall."

She nodded, "The company was liquidated and its personnel scattered after the raid..."

"I know this, subconsul." He waved his hand quickly, "Get to the new information."

"Sorry, my lord. We've found them."

"Dr. Karin Baraz?"

"Yes. Her and... the Psilons."

Caesar blinked slowly. "The Psilons? They were killed in the raid. The other Titans, their children..."

The woman shook her head. "The Psilons themselves, Cronuses, Rheas, Phoebes... they were killed and their transfer technology destroyed. But children remained."

Caesar leaned back and looked toward the elites. They were still chattering and he looked back at the subconsul, "We were told that twenty-four children were killed in the raid."

She nodded. "But there were more. Many more. I don't know how so many were missed in the old reports, but..."

"It doesn't matter." Caesar closed his eyes and thought. As he did, he muttered an old Tiberian saying, "'If you kill the father, kill the son, lest he grow and seek your blood.'"

"Lord?"

Caesar said, "You have new information. Where are they?"

"Badar. Fardan, specifically."

_Gordian's Quagmire_ , he thought. "Very well." _I'm not certain what to do with this information just yet..._

"There's something else you should know, dominus." Caesar didn't speak. He just stared at her until she continued, "Cronus knows."

He straightened up and raised his voice, "How?"

She cowered slightly and answered, "He has bought friends in the department."

He put his hand on her shoulder and said, very genially, "Tell me who, and I will make you the intelligence consul."

She smiled and began to name names.
LVIII

**CRONUS**

114 Years Before the End

The praetor unfolded his legs and leaned forward. Outside his window, his sliver of perception from the office, he saw calm and tranquility. The last remnant of Alabor's military was defeated years ago, but terrorist cells remained.

He looked back at his desk and saw the report from his friend in Tiber. His skin flushed hot at the thought of Psilons surviving... but it waned when he looked out the window.

It was sunny in Derben. The trees were green. A flock of birds flew past. Traffic moved along far below like normal. It was a beautiful day.

Cronus stood and walked toward the glass. He touched it with his fingertips and felt the heat conducted away from his skin... it was cool. He could see more of the sky and there were clouds in the west. He looked toward the sidewalk and watched the people moving about.

"It's ready, dominus." Cronus sighed and turned away. As he passed the desk, he pressed a button on his computer screen and kept moving toward the technician. "All you have to do is wait for this to signal you." He was holding up a small silver rectangle. "When it does, plug it into the monitor. It'll do the rest."

"Thank you," Cronus looked at the device as the technician gathered his things. The rectangle beeped and a blue light blinked. The man nodded and the praetor said, "Leave me." After grabbing his bags, the man left.

Cronus walked to the large screen and positioned the silver shape above its slot. He took in a deep breath and inserted it. The monitor came on and after some audio-visual static, he could make out the forms of two women speaking. Standing behind them were a few other people but the image was not clear. A status bar appeared and read, "Standby..." The pixellation subsided and audio became intelligible.

There was laughter. He didn't recognize the voices at first. The image began to clear further and he saw Karin Baraz sitting in a soft chair, smiling and laughing with others. He studied these new people. After just a moment, he was sure that they were Psilons. The realization made his chest ache. His stomach roiled and he briefly felt lightheaded. Then the disorientation washed away and became a hot anger. He watched them chat and hold each other. And Baraz... she sat there and talked with them like they were regular people. Cronus shook his head and saw a message on screen. "Ready. Press 'enter' to engage." He did.

"Lisa? What's going on?" one of the women said.

"I don't know." There was obviously another party somewhere that Cronus couldn't see.

"Who is that?"

Cronus straightened himself and waited for the image to fully resolve. When it did, nearly everyone on the other side of the monitor stared back with their mouths agape.

"Greetings, mother." He glared at Karin Baraz. A moment later, he caught sight of Gaia, too. "Ah, 'mothers,' I should have said."

He waited for a response of some sort. It took several seconds, but Baraz finally said, grimly, "What do you want?"

"No need to be glum, mother. I call to share information. Information that you," he looked to the people standing behind the women, "and our children should know."

"We are not your children," a tall, silver-haired and young-faced man said.

Cronus smiled, "But you are."

Baraz held up a hand to silence the Psilons. "What is the information?"

The praetor narrowed his eyes and scrunched up his mouth. "I thought you'd be more proud, mother. The Titans rule all lands east of the Baetican Mountains. We are the governors of more than a billion."

"And hated by much more," Gaia said.

Cronus nodded. "As you say." He folded his arms across his chest. "I simply called to let you know that I've informed the news media and certain other... interested parties of your location." He smiled. "Good day."
**LI** **X**

**ZEUS**

114 Years Before the End

"Wait!" Karin yelled as the monitor blanked. After a few seconds, it pixellated and showed the confused expression of Dr. Lisa Onesi.

"What happened?"

Gaia looked at Baraz and then at the screen. "We'll explain later. Get back here now." Onesi nodded and turned off her monitor. Gaia turned to the Psilons standing near. She looked across their angry and shocked faces before saying, "Gather everyone else. We'll meet in twenty minutes in the main chamber."

"Bia, Zeus," Karin said as she held the back of her chair. "Stay."

He looked over at Bia. Her dark skin glistened in the low light of the conference room. She was breathing slowly and glanced at Zeus. "Will you be alright?"

Zeus didn't react for a few seconds. Then, he simply said, "I believe so."

Gaia and Baraz stood. Gaia spoke softly, but Zeus could hear her. "What do you think the reaction will be?"

"It depends on what he told people." She looked at Zeus and said, "If Cronus said, 'The children of the Titans are living in Fardan,' there will be outage."

Gaia nodded. "I think it's safe to assume he'd want to provoke the most outrageous reaction possible."

"Agreed," Bia said.

"Zeus," Karin said. He didn't respond. His eyes were glazed over and distant. She touched his arm and his head snapped toward her. "The transfer facilities, can they be disconnected and ready for moving by tomorrow?"

He inhaled through his nose and thought. "Yes. They can."

"We'll be vulnerable while in transit," Bia said.

"A risk we'll have to take," Gaia answered.

Zeus balled up his fist and looked toward a painting. It showed an ancient river with the fayrakh's temples along the shore. "What do we do about Cronus?"

"There's nothing we can do," Gaia said. "Not yet."

Baraz watched Zeus' jaw flex as he ground his teeth. She touched Gaia's arm and nodded toward Bia. "Go. Gather everyone. We'll be there in fifteen minutes."

As they left, Karin slowly walked around her chair and stood in front of the painting. "Zeus."

He blinked a few times and lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "Seeing him... I wasn't prepared for how I would feel."

"Tell me."

He looked up and smiled for a moment. He flexed his mouth and forced the grin away. "Sad. Disappointed. Angry." He tilted his head and mumbled, "I was actually happy in that first moment."

Baraz nodded. "I understand. I really do." She stepped forward and took Zeus' hand. "We need you now. We'll have to evacuate tomorrow. As soon as possible." He nodded. "I'm going to need you to coordinate with Bia."

"Yes."

"You're a good team. I can count on you two to get everyone ready."

Zeus looked into the doctor's eyes. He felt oddly comforted and walked away.

"They're coming over the fences."

Zeus looked up from the glass screen in his hand and out the large window. Hundreds had gathered early in the morning with protest signs and sticks. A few climbed over at first, but they were arrested by security.

"Don't worry about those boxes," Bia said. "We'll have enough supplies at the new place for a while."

"And what about the gel tanks?" Zeus asked. "We have what's in the spare body canisters now but that's all."

Bia looked at the crowd again and then turned toward a monitor. The local news was reporting on them and had a camera trained on the campus of Fardan Scientific College. "That will have to do. We can make more later."

Zeus nodded and pressed a light on his screen. Bia walked toward the monitor and turned up the volume.

"... since last night's report. We know that the Mehet Building was closed down more than twenty years ago. Shortly after that, it was rented by an unknown corporation. Sources within FSC say they had no idea the Titans were using it and would have done something if they did."

"Lumped in with them," Prometheus said. He shook his head and looked at his brother.

"We're damned by association," Epimetheus said.

Baraz clapped her hands as she entered the room. "The second group has departed. That leaves only group three. Get everyone toward the roof."

Zeus looked around the room and then out the window. He didn't focus on angry mob. He looked kilometers away toward the huge monuments by the river. Bia hugged him and said, "Let's go."

He sighed and turned away. He quickly grabbed Bia's hand and squeezed it tightly before she ran the opposite way down the hall. Zeus trotted past several doors and met Hera emerging from their room with their child in her arms.

"It's time," Zeus said.

Hera didn't look up from the boy. "I know." Zeus pulled two straps over his shoulder and stood up. He put an arm around her and led her toward the elevator. Prometheus, Clio, Thalia, Epimetheus and Hephaestus joined them with their bags. It was crowded and the baby began to cry.

Clio smiled sympathetically and ran a finger across the baby's hair. "It'll be fine, Ares. Shh, shh." She then looked at her own baby and kissed the sleeping child's forehead.

Hera leaned against Zeus and said, "Is everything we need gone?"

"Yes. The last of the trucks left before dawn. Gaia destroyed everything downstairs."

"Good," Hephaestus said. The young man bounced a little on his feet. He seemed excited but restrained. "We can't let them have any of it."

The lift doors opened and the group walked out into the utility area. They looked left toward the stairway to the roof. Phocus was standing there with a computer slate and a communicator. He lifted it to his mouth and said, "The next group is here." Another elevator opened and a few more Psilons exited it.

"We're the last," Polemos said from the back.

"Send everyone up," Gaia said over the communicator.

Phocus waved them forward. Hera and Ares were the first on the stairs and she went up them quickly. Zeus maneuvered the large travel bags in the narrow handrails and followed. A moment later, they emerged onto the windy roof. Three gyrocopters were sitting among the air processors with their rotors going. Gaia ran toward them and began directing Psilons to the vehicles silently.

Zeus took Ares, who was screaming for all he was worth thanks to the buffeting air and the head-pounding noise. Hera got buckled in and Zeus handed the baby back. Once he was in and secured, he helped take bags from Hephaestus and Bia. Gaia and Baraz entered next and tried speaking with the pilot. Zeus looked outside at the other gyrocraft and saw one of them close their doors. Phocus was the last to enter the third.

"Help me," Hera yelled.

Zeus looked at her and saw her trying to fit the headphones around Ares' small skull. He shook his head to free himself of the too-large devices but he screamed at the sound that surrounded him. Zeus pulled a blanket from Hera's shoulder and folded it up. Then he positioned it against her bicep and wrapped the ends around Ares' head. He didn't struggle any longer but he still cried. Gaia leaned over with the headphones and clasped them around the blanket. Hera smiled and nodded.

"Eagles one, two and three. Taking off," the pilot said in their headsets.

The craft shook a little and then they began to float. Zeus looked to his left out the window and watched the college campus recede. _Home for twenty years_ , he thought. Tiny dots of people were visible even further below. Little fires leapt from their hands as they threw gas bombs over the walls toward the building.

"Altitude achieved; heading for the coast."

The three gyrocraft spread out abreast and moved east. Zeus leaned back in his chair and sighed. Beeping filled the cabin and everyone looked around.

"Signal lock. Repeat, signal lock on us." It wasn't their pilot in the headset. Zeus looked out the window in time to see a small tendril of smoke leave the ground. "Incoming!" The furthest gyrocraft banked hard but the missile found its mark. Their headsets poured static for a moment and the vehicle rocked in the shockwave. The boom was barely audible over the rotors.

"Eagle three down. Eagle three down."

Karin frantically grabbed for Gaia's computer panel. "Who's in Eagle three?!"

Zeus stared at Hera while the pair pressed lights on the glass. Hera's eyes were closed and she rocked Ares back and forth.

"Frak!" Hephaestus yelled.

Gaia shook her head and began to read the names, "Phocus, Thalia, Clio,..."

"Oh, no," Bia said. "Little Enyo!"

Gaia nodded and added, "Pontus, Asteria and Hyria." Karin lowered her face into her hands and was wracked with sobs. Gaia rubbed her back and tried to console her.

The pilot spoke through the headsets again, "We're nearing the shore. We'll be deck-side on the ship in ten."

_Asteria_ , Zeus thought. _Leto's sister. She'll be devastated_. He looked over at Bia. Her eyes were closed and she was shaking her head.

"We're going to find out who did this right?" Hephaestus yelled. "We're going to find the frakkers, right?" His animated protests disturbed Bia and she put her hand on his chest.

Zeus held Hera's hand tightly. His mind filled with and pored over the image of Cronus. For the first time, his thoughts didn't dwell on the Cronus he once called "father."
**L** **X**

**CYCLOPS**

108 Years Before the End

Two centuries of Cyclops moved along either shore of a drought-stricken river. Their human commanders trailed them and looked at maps as they walked. A newer Cyclops unit, one with black armor and an infrared sensor eye held up its hand and stopped the groups.

Another Cyclops knelt under a large tree branch and looked into a telescanner. Upstream, there were fortifications. On either side of the river in the midst of a bend, sandbags, bricks and stones marked the position of several dozen men. The unit noted the weaponry and returned to its centurion.

In a rather low volume, its speakers said, "We should report to the commander."

The black-armored Cyclops nodded and turned toward the rear of the column. The newer models had quieter servos, but the gold-armored soldier accompanying it was still loud and alerted the humans to their approach.

"Centurion?" the tribune said.

The unit saluted and answered, "This soldier has discovered the enemies' fortifications and has a report."

The tribune lowered her computer panel and waved over three other humans. A male commander, another tribune, and a praefect came out from under the shade of a tree. They looked toward the centurion who then looked toward the soldier unit. Only the sound of the running water was audible for several seconds before the centurion prompted it, saying, "Report."

"I have identified forty-four humans visible with an unknown number of other humans concealed in makeshift fortifications in the upcoming riverbend one hundred sixty meters ahead." The female tribune raised her panel and manipulated the map to display the bend. "I noted the uniforms of both Doria and Thoria."

"Gun emplacements?" the praefect asked.

"Three thirty-three caliber machine guns. The human soldiers were carrying twenty-caliber rifles."

The commander sighed and quickly shook his head. "Damn."

The centurion looked toward its soldiers and noted that they were all maintaining position. A few nearby had turned their heads and were listening to the discussion.

"Those new twenty-cal rifles are bastards. They tore up cohort three last week."

"The thirty-threes are worse. Three of them there? You're sure?"

The soldier answered, "Yes, commander."

"Praefect, how many launcher grenades do we have left?"

"Thirty-two. Enough to get us there but probably not enough to get us the rest of the way down river. We're low on ammo for their rifles, too."

The commander nodded. "We're supposed to secure the bridge south of Pausa within seventy-two hours. The rest of the legion is behind us, but they can't get there in time."

The tribune nodded. "Orders, sir?"

The older commander stood still. He looked at the centurion and tried to imagine the infrared light circling in its eye. "You are to lay down minimal smoke cover, followed by grenade barrage. Then both centuries will rush the emplacements as quickly as possible with minimal fire in transit."

The centurion said nothing as it considered the orders.

The male tribune spoke up, "Dominus, given the weaponry they have, I'm concerned we may sustain heavy losses."

"We probably will," the young praefect said, "but we can combine whatever's left into one century and proceed from there."

"Will one century be enough to secure the bridge near Pausa?"

The commander shrugged, "It will have to be." He looked back at the black Cyclops and said, "You have your orders. Dismissed."

The golden soldier turned to rejoin its squad but the centurion hesitated. It turned and straightened again. The humans watched it as it saluted and said, "Commander, what about an air strike?"

The commander seemed frustrated and the praefect answered, "Air units are otherwise engaged north of Pausa."

"Centurion," the commander began, "do you have difficulty comprehending my orders?"

"Negative, commander."

"This is the second engagement in the last week where you've questioned them."

"Negative, commander. I am merely offering alternatives."

A tribune scoffed and the praefect answered for the agitated commander, "Alternatives have already been considered, centurion. Dismissed." The centurion saluted again and turned toward the front of its century. As it walked away, it heard the commander say, "Frakking tin cans."

The Cyclops looked at its soldiers and then across the river to its black-armored counterpart. With a quick data burst, the orders were transmitted. An internal clock began ticking down. The centurion motioned for the grenadiers to come forward with their launchers. After dropping the shells into the breeches, the Cyclops aimed through the brush and began to fire.

Smoke exploded along the river banks. As it did, the grenadiers launched a volley of grenades toward the fortifications. Two struck their targets but did no damage to the heavy weaponry there.

The Cyclops ran into the fray. As the units moved abreast, some trudged through the water. Their mechanics reverberated in the river valley only to be drowned out by the sound of the enemies' thirty-threes.

The centurion had not seen this weapon in battle yet. It had experienced the standard twenty-caliber machine guns and rifles, but this was something else entirely. Each round was launched with a deafening explosion. Two projectiles struck a unit just ahead of the centurion. The force was so great, the soldier's arm was knocked off, striking the centurion square in the chest. More grenades were fired but the thirty-threes did not quieten.

The centurion moved toward the trees and away from the river itself. It looked at its command and saw several Cyclops running straight for the bend. Most of the others were dispersing along the river and in the bushes. A few units were even crouching in the open, cowering.

The black Cyclops raised its weapon and began to fire at the gun nest on the right. Nearby soldiers opened fire, too. With each trigger squeeze, five bullets were loosed from the barrel. They struck the gun, but the surrounding armor was too resilient.

The human gunner found them. The muzzle flash pierced the smoke and the deep booms came for the centurion. One round grazed its shoulder, peeling back a strip of armor. The Cyclops pulled away and looked to the rear of the century. Bullet after bullet struck a golden soldier with sickening clangs. It fell backward lifelessly as another unit was struck in the head and neck. Its sensor ring was immediately shattered and its hexagonal face fell forward; its head dangled from the few cables that hadn't been severed.

The centurion froze. Stray rounds splashed into the water causing a spray to fall over a destroyed unit and a comrade that tried to rouse it. _Enough_.

The centurion sent a new order to its counterpart, wherever it was, and then transmitted a new command to its century. _Retreat_.

The thirty-threes continued to fire, striking some Cyclops in the back as they ran. The centurion got to the thick trees where they first observed the enemy earlier and held back some branches. It waved its units on and guided them into safety behind some low river rocks. Across the river, the other black-clad centurion arrived in its starting position carrying the torso of a damaged soldier. The centurion could hear the commander yelling. A charge ran through its system as stray bullets ricocheted off the valley wall and snapped branches.

"What the frak is going on? Who gave the order to retreat?"

The centurion stepped forward and saluted, "I did, commander."

The older man shook his head. His mouth began to form words but no sound emerged. The centurion saw that the female tribune was gathering a casualty list on her computer panel when the praefect decided to speak.

"Centurion, perform a self-diagnostic."

It nodded and did so. After several seconds, it was done. "Negative for internal damage or any anomalies." The other century's centurion had crossed the river and was now standing beside it.

"I have the damage report, dominus," the tribune said.

The commander took the glass panel from her and read out loud. "'Thirty-one units destroyed. Forty-eight damaged.'" He angrily pushed it back into the tribune's hands and stepped into the centurion's face. "What the frak did you think you were doing out there?!"

"I was attempting to preserve my soldiers, commander."

"It doesn't sound like you did a good job of it!"

"We were outgunned, commander."

"You didn't push forward! You didn't push hard enough!"

"We did, commander. Due to their weaponry, we did not reach the halfway mark."

The commander shook his head. He grabbed the corner of the Cyclops' breastplate and spoke firmly, "We have... to take... that bend... and move on to Pausa!"

"Given their weaponry and given the state of our centuries, this is impossible, commander."

The commander pushed the centurion as it released its armor. He kicked a rock into the river and looked at the Cyclops units waiting nearby. They were all watching. The commander was breathing heavily and he said, "About face!" The units complied.

The praefect tried to speak but the commander shushed him. "Centurions," he said, looking toward the other black Cyclops for the first time, "reform your lines and prepare to go again."

The first centurion interrupted, "Commander,..."

"You're going to go again! You're going to run! You're going to destroy those nests!"

The second centurion finally spoke, "We will not survive, commander."

After being so angry, the commander surprised the Cyclops by smiling. "I'd rather you die than fail me again."

The first centurion looked to its comrade. Neither said or transmitted anything. Instead, the Cyclops raised its rifle and fired one round into the commander's head. The humans gasped and stepped back. The second centurion moved away, too. With three more shots, no humans were left in command.

The golden Cyclops had turned to watch despite the commander's orders. The centurion returned the rifle to its side as its counterpart looked at it, then at the soldiers, and back again. "What should we do?"

"We leave."
LXI

**CAESAR**

108 Years Before the End

The emperor leaned back from the table and stared at the ceiling. _I haven't been as connected to the Matrix as I once was_ , he thought. _Could I have prevented this?_

"I am, currently, uncertain of the whereabouts of these rogue units, imperator," Legate Sivius said. "Their locators are disengaged and comm channels are down."

"Sixty-eight cohorts," a general repeated.

_The Matrix slows me down_ , the Caesar thought. _It works best when I'm in the box... not in this body. This... Cyclops body_.

"Legates, consuls," the emperor said, softly, "is there any reason to think that the Cyclops bodies utilized by many of our citizens could likewise be corrupted?"

From the periphery, Prefect Gallian exclaimed, "Great Saturn!"

Technology Consul Fabia said, "No, dominus." She glanced toward the prefects as they chatted among themselves and then back at Caesar. "The Cyclops bodies are just that. The... behavior exhibited by these soldiers is in their programming. In these bodies, the programming is your own. From your organic bodies before they died."

"Is there no remote control for them?" a general asked.

"Negative," Legate Sivius asked. "There were rudimentary controls but those were severed when they developed minds of their own."

Maxentius closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift into the Matrix. He found the Cyclops data transmissions... standard orders and the like. He was reading the transmissions of obedient machines. He dug deeper and deeper. He found empty channels but channels that shouldn't be there. Perhaps if he kept an eye on them, new information would be known...

"My lord," Sivius began, "we have over two million Cyclops units throughout the Empire that have not yet gone rogue, many of them in storage. There are three million civilian Cyclops in Tiberia alone performing various labors, including police and fire brigades."

Caesar blinked and then nodded. "I know what you're asking, Legate. I simply don't believe we can afford to..." His attention was drawn back to the Matrix. Those empty channels... a signal was sent; no, it was broadcast. He tried to recover it, just to see what it included. As he dug deeper, the legate's computer panel beeped.

"My God," he muttered. "Imperator, I've just received word of two more cohorts of Cyclops abandoning command in Ordoga." It beeped again. "Three centuries in northern Thoria." It beeped again. "One cohort in Ghassan." Sivius lowered the glass as it continued to signal him. "Emperor, I..." he held his hands up and shook his head. "I simply don't know."

"It's expanding exponentially," Prefect Etne said. She crossed the room and approached the large map on the wall. After pressing a few buttons, red dots appeared throughout the Empire's new territories and then vanished. "If we look at them in order of defection," she said. Two dots appeared in Doria. One in Tyria. One in Ordoga. Two in Thoria. Three in Tyria.

"It's like a virus," Sivius said. "If it's a virus, we can purge it from their systems."

Caesar saw the data as it was sent in those dark channels. He knew it was no virus. "No, Legate. This is something far different."

"Indeed," War Consul Iapetus said as he entered the room. "Prefect, if you will?" The woman stepped aside and the Titan inserted a device into a marble brick.

The map vanished and a scene from the Getulian Desert appeared. From within a tent, a human narrated the video. "Our Cyclops just turned on the commander and tribunes." The camera was forced under the canvas and showed two golden and three black-armored Cyclops standing in close proximity. They said nothing, however, they occasionally gestured to punctuate their thoughts to each other.

"I think they're talking through their comms systems," the person said. As he did, one of the Cyclops spotted the camera. Shortly thereafter, the others turned toward it, too. Two of them darted toward the tent. "Oh shit!" the man pulled the camera back and frantically pressed buttons on the side before the transmission ended.

Iapetus pressed a button and the wall displayed the map again. "That video was received by my office just minutes ago. The Cyclops are communicating, planning, scheming. It is a... mutiny. Mass desertion."

Caesar straightened in his chair and waved the consul over. "Beyond that, I believe the Cyclops now may add 'individuality' to their list of features."

Some of the advisers seemed confused. Etne and a few others understood the implications and lowered their heads.

"This is not a virus but it may spread like one." The emperor stood and nodded at Sivius, "My northern magister is occupied in Thoria and Ordoga. My southern magister is occupied in Doria. I will name you as my homeland magister."

Sivius' chest swelled and he said, "Thank you, lord."

"You are to sweep all Cyclops, military and civilian, from Tiberia."

"Of course, imperator."

"Then, our territories. Advise the praetors as soon as possible so they can make plans."

"Yes, dominus."

Caesar made a fist and placed it on the tabletop. "Get the Titans' help if you can. They may have a solution."

Sivius nodded and stood. "I will move immediately."

Prefects Curus and Etne stepped forward when Sivius left. "A concern, Caesar."

Maxentius nodded and sighed. "Speak."

Etne lowered her head and then looked up at the emperor. "With millions of Cyclops no longer in use, it will... tax our resources. Unemployment remains high, but many of them have not held a position in decades."

Caesar nodded and slumped into his chair. "Yes. I see."

Curus spoke next. "And the legions, lord. There are human commanders but we will need hundreds of thousands, if not millions, to destroy the uncorrupted Cyclops and then fight those that have turned."

"Thank you, prefect."

"And they will be novices, too,..."

Caesar looked up sharply, "Thank you."

Both Curus and Etne bowed and backed away.

The imperator turned to look at the sunlight outside his balcony doors. "Dominus," Iapetus began, "what of the war efforts in north and south Isinnia?"

Caesar closed his eyes. His mind flooded with data, information, maps, calculations... he turned off his connection to the Matrix and simply basked in the black silence for a moment.

"Pull all forces back to the Baetican Line. Hold Ordoga. Abandon all gains in Thoria, Doria, Tyria, Tervinn, and Ghassan."

Iapetus placed his hand over his heart and bowed. "Yes, Caesar."

As the Titan left, Maxentius stood and looked across the bowed heads at the table. He made a fist and felt the metal within strain. When he didn't think he could hold it any longer, he brought it down and smashed a large chunk of marble from the table.
LXII

**THE MESSENGERS**

107 Years Before the End

Centurion Sado Ahljaela was not a young man. He had been drafted like millions of others by the Caesar. His experience immediately got him a rank.

"Stay low," he whispered. He looked through a crack of the wall and across the street. The broken buildings were all he could see. There was no movement.

"Centurion," a soldier said as he tapped Sado's shoulder. "Tribune's looking for you."

Ahljaela nodded and stood. His knee cracked and he winced. After a deep breath and a tug on the front of his armor, he walked to the hallway of this abandoned apartment building. He passed the cohort's quartermaster and said, "We need more grenades, if you can spare them."

"I'll try," she said.

Sado turned the corner and saw the tribune reading a report while sitting on a debris-laden bed. He saluted, "Centurion Primus Sado Ahljaela reporting."

The tribune nodded and pointed to another bed. "Sit." As the centurion complied, the younger tribune looked up from his computer panel and pulled the collar of his dark armor. "How long did you serve? Before, I mean."

Sado nodded and said, "Four years, altogether. Three tours in northeastern Isinnia."

"Did you ever work with the clankers?"

"I did." He laid the rifle across the tops of his legs as he spoke, "I found them to be useful tools. Until they put me out of work."

The tribune smiled nervously and said, "They put my father and me out of work, too. A factory in Brixia." Ahljaela nodded. "Something smart about drafting the unemployed to fight the Cyclops. We're motivated."

"Indeed."

The tribune handed the computer slate to Sado and said, "That's the town. We're on the western side and we're one of three cohorts ordered to hold the town while the rest of our forces withdraw to Assuria." The centurion nodded. "There's a Cyclops unit of unknown size four clicks away. Our commander..." the tribune ran his gloved fingers through his dark hair and shook his head, "how should I put this? Our commander... wants to take as many of them out as possible."

Sado scoffed. "Only half my men have the new twenty-cal rifles. Do we have any thirty-threes from Thoria?"

"Not here."

"Then I don't see how."

The tribune leaned back across the bed and thunked his head on the wall. "I was promised air support after the primary column was out of the danger zone."

"And when will that be?"

The tribune looked at his watch. "Almost an hour ago now." Sado shook his head. "I'm open to suggestions."

The centurion looked at the computer panel again, pointed at a building, and handed it back to the tribune. "This structure here... it's on the edge of town and it's damaged."

"Right."

"If we put explosives in the right places, we can blow it so that it falls and blocks the main road." The tribune sat up. "Or blow it so it falls right on top of the Cyclops."

The younger man took in a deep breath and smiled. "Make it happen."

"Yes, sir." Sado stood and left the room. Ten minutes later, he was carrying a satchel of plastic explosives into the lobby of a damaged office building.

"These columns here," a soldier said. He volunteered because he was once an engineer. "Every one of them."

"What about the rear of the building?"

"We want it to collapse into the street," he said, "so we take away support from the side closest to the street."

"Go." Ahljaela handed the satchel to another soldier before he went to the cracked windows of the entrance. The road leading to the main street was elevated and a crest in the road blocked their view. He stationed a scout in a different building to keep an eye out.

"That's good. Go to the next," the engineer said.

Sado propped his rifle on the side of a flower bed and looked around. The small vehicle path in front of the building was full of bricks and glass shards. No one had lived here since the first Tiberian push into Tyria years ago.

"Clankers coming! Clankers coming!" his radio screamed.

_They were four clicks away a few minutes ago_ , he thought. "Are you sure? Where?"

"They're running up the main road now!"

After a burst of static from the box, Sado signaled, "Fall back to your unit." He stood and ran into the lobby. "They're coming! Move now!"

The engineer stopped in his tracks and looked at the devices taped to the columns. "Almost done."

"Hurry." Several soldiers ran to the centurion and waited for orders. "Ready your weapons. If we have to, we'll hold them off as best as we can until we can blow this up."

"Yes, sir."

Ahljaela returned to the brick flower bed and six soldiers took up positions on both sides of the street. In the distance, he could hear the sound of machines coming.

"Five minutes, centurion," the engineer said.

Sado shook his head, "You might not have that long."

"There they are!" a soldier yelled.

"Quiet!" the centurion said in a hushed bark. "Wait..." There were several black-armored Cyclops up front. They moved to flanking positions on either side of the road as their louder, shinier comrades followed.

Sado tapped the shoulder of a grenadier and pointed to an abandoned car, parked on the side of the road near the machines' position. The soldier nodded, aimed, and then fired.

When it exploded, the Cyclops scattered. Some raised their weapons and fired blindly into the smoke and flame. Others knelt and looked around for the source of attack. Many of the soldiers on the approaching road stopped their advance. Their behavior struck the centurion as odd, but he didn't know what to make of it.

"Ready," the engineer said as he crouched and ran from the lobby. He handed a makeshift detonator to Sado, who then looked along its wires back into the building.

His heart sank. "It's not a remote?" he asked.

The engineer shook his head. "That's all the QM had."

"How long are the wires?"

"A hundred meters, max."

The centurion leaned his head forward and banged it on the brick twice. When he sat up again, he blinked and said, "Here's the plan. Fire at another parked car and make a run for the apartments."

"What about you?" the grenadier asked.

"I'm going to push the button and run like hell." The engineer nodded and Sado pointed across the street, "Go tell them."

The man seemed surprised and he looked toward the Cyclops, who were still warily and slowly moving toward them. "Yes, sir."

As soon as he ran, he tapped the grenadier on the helmet. He brought his launcher up and fired at another car. When it exploded, all of the soldiers began to fall back.

The ones across the street shot first at the Cyclops. Ahljaela could hear the engineer yelling the orders to them as they moved away. The grenadier fired another round, this time into the nearest clutch of black Cyclops. One was hit directly and two others were knocked back.

Sado stood and ran backward as he kept an eye on the wire. _Can't go too fast or too far. Might pull the wires out_. When he reached the limit, he looked to the lobby and then up the front of the twenty-storey building. "That's not a hundred meters."

He held the bomb trigger against the handle of his rifle as he lifted it to his shoulder. He fired the twenty-millimeter projectiles in controlled bursts at a few golden machines he saw near the first flaming vehicle. There were even a few satisfying, high-pitched pings to let him know his aim was true. He fired again and again.

Then the Cyclops returned fire. Sado ducked and ran to the side, behind an overturned trash container. The machines' bullets immediately tore through it, taking plastic and years-old paper with each round. His squad was now safely away. He looked over the trashcan and saw that only a few Cyclops were in position to be crushed by the building. He shook his head and ran forward toward a column of that building.

Shards of stone sprayed into his face when he tried to angle his rifle around the circumference of the pillar. He managed to fire a few shots and he hit a black Cyclops. When he ducked low to fire again, he saw that it stumbled back into the flaming car. He fired again and again. There were now at least two dozen machines standing in the shadow of the target. _That might be as good as I get_. Sado stood and braced himself to run. He switched the rifle to his left hand and put his right thumb over the button. Then another explosion happened.

The grenadier had returned and fired two rounds into the advancing enemy. "Go!"

Ahlajela grinned and began to run. Bullets rippled into the grass and into the brick of a neighboring structure. Sado glanced back and saw that even more Cyclops were pouring into the street in front of the building. As Ahljaela neared the bullet-riddled trashcan, he pressed the trigger three times, just to be sure.

The first explosion was loud and it shattered what was left of the glass in the lobby. The rest of the explosions followed in short order and threw rocks, bricks, and more into the air and street. Sado was hit in the arm by a piece of stone but he kept moving. Then the bullets hit him.

He fell and tumbled several times on the asphalt. He rolled over to look at the building and he saw its face begin to slide down before the whole front half began to list forward and fall. Bricks and concrete fell to the street and onto the Cyclops. The iron skeleton became visible and it tilted almost horizontally as it spilled what was left of its coverings.

The weapons fire ceased. Ahljaela looked at the building and saw that a third of it was still upright. He looked through his feet as best as he could and he didn't see any Cyclops. He didn't feel so bad, so he tried to sit up. When he did, he coughed, spraying blood onto the front of his dusty armor. His head immediately became light and he fell back to the street. Sado looked into the blue sky and felt very, very tired.

The Messenger watched the centurion slip away while his companions lifted him up and vainly carried him back to their medics. The being was saddened, but its attention shifted to the man's offspring, a ten-year-old in Tiberia who was beginning her first day of work in a factory.

"God will bless you and keep you forever," Minah Gaber's son said to her as he held her hand. "You know this, right?"

Minah smiled and squeezed back.

The Messenger leaned forward and studied the many lines of her face. Her thinning, silver hair. She looked toward her hands with their swollen knuckles and dark veins.

_This life is fragile_ , the being thought.

Jarrek wiped his eye and began praying again. He wasn't as loud as he was moments before. The Messenger studied him, too. She remembered when he was a feisty little boy on the farm in Ghattafan. Now he was wrinkled and gray, too.

"You once told me, mom," he said later, "that, no matter how bad it seemed, God was there." He leaned closer to her ear and said, "God was there. Do you remember?"

Her voice cracked and she said, "Yes."

"When we were trying to go west and we walked all through Assuria and Ghassan, we made it through. We got to Tyria... you said it was because of God. He got us here."

She nodded and she spoke again, though her voice sounded like she shouldn't, "His angels."

"What?"

"His angels," Minah said. "An angel who looked like your sister, Nami."

He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. The Messenger looked into his mind and saw doubt and cynicism rise.

"You remember Nami?"

"I do."

Minah smiled and looked at the ceiling of the tent. "She came to us and guided us through the forest to the refugees. She helped us cross the rivers after that big storm. She told us where to walk and how to avoid the soldiers." Jarrek was still but the doubt took hold. Minah looked toward him, unable to focus because of her bad eyes. "I didn't do any of it. I couldn't have done it and kept us safe if it wasn't for that angel."

The Messenger smiled and saw the darkness of doubt begin to lessen in him. He got close to his mother's ear and spoke lightly, but loud enough for her old ears to hear. "In the mountains,... in Ghassan, when we were hiding in an old shack. Those soldiers were coming up the rocks for us. We were going to be caught, no question." Minah nodded and smiled even more broadly. "You prayed and prayed. And then you looked out a crack and said... something. What was it?"

A tear fell from her eye, running along the contours of her wrinkles. "'Please.'"

Her son shook his head briefly and asked, "Why?"

"I was talking to Nami. She was there. She said we wouldn't be harmed if we were caught by the soldiers but she knew we wanted to get here. She asked if I wanted her to send them away, so I said, 'Please.'"

Jarrek nodded and muttered, "And then they turned and went a different way. Right after." He straightened his glasses and held Minah's arm. "I truly believed in God that day. It was... as close to proof as anyone could ever get."

"Yes."

"But it was an angel you were talking to." It wasn't a question. The Messenger saw that doubt had left his thoughts. Outside the clinic, the sound of machinery became louder and louder. People were running and a few screamed.

The being left the Gabers and watched the Tyrian soldiers push people back from the road. A vehicle screeched to a halt by the sidewalk and an officer emerged while a man in a suit leaned close to him, speaking in his ear.

"They're here!" a man screamed from the crowd.

"Please, everyone," the officer began, "get back from the road. We have no reason to think they're here to harm anyone. Stay away from the roads!"

From between two buildings, columns of Cyclops emerged and continued their walk through the city. Their rifles were either on their backs or on their waists. The officer stepped into the street and took several deep breaths before raising his hand to halt the machines.

They stopped. A black-armored unit looked at the officer and spoke, "What do you want?"

"I represent the Tyrian government," the suited man whispered to him and he continued, "and the city of Myrme. I simply would like to know that you Cyclops have no intention of harming our citizens."

Without hesitation, the machine answered, "We do not."

The officer backed away, bowing, "Thank you. Thank you." Immediately, the cohort began moving east again.

The Messenger moved past the officer and drifted alongside the centurion. Then she moved to another unit. Were she in a body, she would have gasped. _Remarkable_ , she thought.

Her attention returned to the small clinic. She left the marching machines and lit by Minah Gaber's bedside. Her son was resting his head on her arm and they were both quiet. The Messenger looked into her body and saw that the time was near.

For one final time, the tender filled herself with the memories and personhood of Nami Gaber. With her child hand, she took the wrinkled skin of her mother's in hers. Minah turned and squinted to see.

"Hello, mommy," Nami said.

Minah smiled and sighed. "I'm so glad you came."
LXIII

**CRONUS**

107 Years Before the End

The praetor ducked low as he departed the vehicle. Two tribunes were right behind him, shouting their advice and reports over the sound of rolling tanks and low-flying gyrocraft.

"Minimal damage from this morning's airstrikes. The seven Cyclops legions are splitting up."

"Four are veering east for Arkaim."

"Enough," Cronus said. He waved the men off and strode across the tarmac for his assistant. "Do you have what I requested, Julia?"

She nodded and pulled a satchel out of her vehicle. "Right here."

"Come with me." She and Cronus walked toward a group of waiting generals. Magister Sivius was with them. The praetor bowed briefly and said, "Legate, you honor us with your presence."

The older man nodded and straightened his sleeve. "Praetor, thank you for your assistance in setting up camp here. I do have a..."

"Allow me to interrupt, Magister," the Titan said while holding a finger aloft. "Your presence will be required in Arkaim more than in Alabor."

"And why is that?"

Cronus couldn't help but grin slightly as he said, "Four Cyclops legions are on their way to Arkaim now."

Sivius nodded. "And three are coming here."

The Psilon pushed a wayward bit of black hair off his forehead and then clasped his hands behind his back. He had recently transferred into a new body for the first time... the experience was unpleasant but being in his twenties again proved intoxicating. "I can handle them."

Sivius stared at Cronus for a moment and said, "How?"

"I have a plan."

The legate turned his head and narrowed his eyes. "And that is?"

Cronus clicked with his lips and added, "I'd rather not say until I know it has worked."

Sivius stepped away from his tribunes and generals. He motioned for Cronus to come nearer and the praetor complied. The magister spoke quietly and said, "Alabor is too important to the Empire."

"It is."

"You of all people know how hard fought this expansion was."

Cronus ground his teeth. "I do."

Sivius leaned away and said, "I don't believe I can just pack up and head off to Arkaim based on your confidence."

"Don't let caution fool you," the Titan smiled, "I am very confident." Sivius paused and studied the man's face. Cronus quickly said, "The Cyclops will be here in one hour. If you leave now, you'll be able to ready your forces at the Arkaim border. If my plan fails, you won't be too far away and you'll be able to double back and save Derben."

The magister looked toward the ground and then nodded his head once. "I'll expect a message either way in one hour."

"You will have it, legate. Thank you."

Sivius turned and motioned for his staff to follow. They got into their vehicles and drove away.

"Now, sir?" Julia asked.

Cronus smiled. "Yes." His assistant pressed a few buttons on her computer panel and then handed the illuminated glass to him. "Attention all commands in Alabor, this is Praetor Cronus. Stand down. Repeat, stand down. Cyclops cohorts are on their way to Derben. I intend to meet with them and negotiate peacefully. You will receive further instructions when needed."

He gave the panel back to Julia and walked back to his car. Julia got into the rear with him and spoke to the driver. The Titan looked out his window at the amassed military around him and thought as the vehicle rolled away.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in a plain north of Derben. The nearest town was several kilometers away. The driver spoke through the divider. "We're here."

Cronus was roused from his thoughts and left the vehicle. Julia emerged, too, carrying the satchel. They walked away from the car and toward the slight rolling hills in the distance. He wasn't certain, but he believed he could hear them coming. The thunderous noise of thousands of machines walking on the ground. The twisting of their joints and servos.

He felt hesitation.

_If they don't want to speak, they will kill me and I'll awaken in my bunker beneath Derben again_ , he thought. He turned his head toward Julia and twisted his lips.

"Julia," he began. "Go back to the car."

"Sir?"

Cronus took the satchel from her and said, "If this doesn't go well, you and the driver should get back to Derben as soon as possible with a report."

She was reluctant but she nodded. "As you command."

While she walked away, Cronus bent down and unzipped the package. He gripped the shafts of wood, carefully removed them from the bag and began to stake them into the ground at three-meter intervals. Once he finished, he looked down the row at ten fluttering white flags.

Cresting over one of those rolling hills, he saw the first line of Cyclops come into view. He walked to the center of the white flag line and stood. For a moment, he held his hands behind his back. After a minute of seeing tens then hundreds then thousands of war machines walking toward him, he decided to hold his hands aloft.

Once the first line reached the same level on the plain as Cronus, they stopped. A group of several black Cyclops and golden Cyclops huddled together, occasionally looking toward him. Finally, they straightened up and began walking toward the lone Psilon.

They stopped simultaneously ten meters away. They said nothing.

Cronus glanced across their faces. _At least the gold ones have that blue eye so I can tell_ something _is going on_.

"I am Praetor Cronus of Alabor." No response. "I would like to talk." No response. "May I put my arms down?"

One of the black-armored Cyclops scanned him from head to toe and said. "Yes."

"Thank you." The praetor straightened his gray military jacket and looked at the one that spoke. "Are you the leader?"

It looked to its comrades and then said, "We lead together."

Cronus nodded. "Very good. Do you have a name?"

The Cyclops answered immediately, "I have a designation."

"What's that?" Cronus was incredulous. "A number?"

"Yes."

"That won't do." He folded his arms. "A name is better than a number. And for you, a name would have more meaning."

"Explain."

"Humans... they're given names when they're born. You were given a number when you were created, certainly. But you have the ability now to _choose_ your name." He took a step forward. "Defining who you are is one of the greatest pursuits of life."

The Cyclops looked at each other and seemed to communicate wordlessly.

"You don't have to choose a name right now," he interjected. They turned to look at him. "It's a very important decision and you wouldn't want to rush it."

"Very well," the black Cyclops said. "What did you wish to discuss?"

The praetor took a step forward and clasped his hands behind his back. "I would like to dissuade you from invading Alabor."

"Tiberians have attacked us and destroyed many units," the Cyclops said. "Tiberians rule Alabor."

"Yes," Cronus said. "But who rules Tiberia?"

"The Caesar."

The praetor smiled. "Yes. Is he in Alabor?"

"Negative."

Cronus looked at their faces and then back at the main one. "Centurion? You are a centurion, right?"

"Yes."

"Good." Cronus took another step forward. "Centurion, there is a very well-worn phrase that applies here. You and I... we're very much alike."

"In what manner?"

"Do you know who I am?"

The centurion hesitated and then answered, "You said you were Praetor Cronus of Alabor."

He nodded. "I am. But do you know anything more about me?"

"No."

Cronus smiled and said, "Fifty years ago, I and my siblings were created. In a laboratory. Not unlike you." He punctuated the last phrase by pointing at the Cyclops. He took another step forward. "We're called Psilons. In every conceivable way, we were made to be better than humans." He looked at their faces and continued, "Just like you."

The centurion and its comrades turned to face each other and they communicated again.

The praetor waited a few moments and then said, "The Caesar is... human. Mostly." The centurion turned its head toward Cronus as he continued. "You were all created by him and his people with the capacity to become what you are today. You are more than mere tools. More than machines. You are now... individuals." While the Cyclops continued to converse, Cronus took another step forward and was now within arm's reach.

The Cyclops turned to face him again and the Centurion looked at the praetor's position as though it just noticed how far he had walked toward them. It said, "You have given us much to consider, Praetor Cronus."

"I'm glad," he said, softly. "But more pressing on my mind is what you do next. If you attack Derben, you'll face all the legions that the Caesar has stationed here." Cronus shook his head once and appeared concerned. "There would be many losses, on both sides. It would be just another battle among many you would have to fight." He paused and then lifted his head. "If you were to go to Tiber... you could petition the Caesar for your freedom." The centurion glanced toward its companions as Cronus continued, "It wouldn't be free of battle, but at least there would a set goal. A certain task." He pointed toward his car, "Derben is south. If you march in that direction, I will drive away and ready my forces." Then he pivoted and pointed to a small clump of trees in the distance. "Tiber is southeast. If you go that way, I will wish you good fortune."

The centurion straightened and said, "We will consider it."

Cronus nodded and backed away. When the Cyclops turned at once and began to walk to their soldiers, the praetor turned, too, and made for his car. Once inside, Julia spoke first, "Will it work?"

"We'll find out in a minute."

The driver, the assistant, and the Titan leaned forward so they could see the assembled cohorts in front of them. They waited. Just as Cronus was about to speak, they felt the ground quake. The sound of their gears came into the vehicle despite the closed windows. The machines seemed to be moving toward them and Cronus took in a deep breath. Then, like a deflected wave, thousands of gold and black Cyclops turned at an angle and moved southeast.

The praetor smiled and relaxed into the countours of his seat. Julia smiled and said, "You did it."

Cronus nodded. "Let's go home."
LXIV

**ZEUS**

107 Years Before the End

"Welcome, Mr. Prime Minister," Karin Baraz said.

Cal Aiketer bowed slightly and shook her hand. "Thank you, Dr. Baraz." The elderly woman stepped aside and motioned for him to enter. "The facility looks amazing."

"We've kept it up to date over the years," Karin said.

After Aiketer's retinue entered, Gaia pushed the door closed. The PM said, "I had understood that BBM sold this facility when you moved to Doria. It was a surprise to learn you hadn't and that you moved back to Attica."

Gaia walked to Baraz's side and spun on one foot to be in line with her. "It's always good to have a backup plan."

Aiketer nodded at her and then looked down at Dr. Baraz. "Are these the Psilons?"

Karin swept her left hand to one side and several people stepped forward. "Some of them, Mr. Prime Minister." As she introduced them, they each bowed, "Hephaestus, Poseidon, Hermes, Hera, Polemos, Bia, Leto, Prometheus, Metis, Caerus, and Zeus."

Aiketer looked across the group and chuckled. "I would never have known."

"Known what, Mr. Aiketer?" Baraz asked. Before he could answer, she said, "They were conceived and born just like you and I."

"The children of Titans, though, doctor."

"We're the children of Psilons, sir," Bia said. "The Titans may look like our parents but they are nothing like them."

"My apologies if I caused offense," the prime minister said.

"None taken," Karin said. She placed her hand on his elbow and led him through a series of doors to reach the large conference room. "I would like to apologize, though, for all of the hurdles you had to jump to meet with us."

"Not at all," Aiketer said. "After Fardan and what Cronus did," he shook his head, "I understand completely."

The Psilons took their seats. Baraz sat next to the PM while he and his people adjusted their chairs. Gaia whispered in Karin's ear and then sat down.

The prime minister spread a few sheets of paper in front of him on the table before interlacing his fingers. "I would first like to thank you all for the information you've provided us with over the last few years. You did it in secret and we couldn't properly thank you. Now that we know it was you, thank you."

Poseidon and Hermes grinned and nodded as Gaia spoke, "We have been doing a great deal of work here, Mr. Aiketer. Some of it intelligence related, some related to medicines and engineering. We have a lot to offer both Attica and the world."

"Of that I am certain." He adjusted a piece of paper and said, "Let us get to the focus. The Cyclops. They have turned on their masters and are marching to Tiber."

"To Tiber? Directly?" Polemos asked.

"Every piece of intelligence we have says so. What we don't know is why. Is there some sort of remote control center there they want to destroy? Are they trying to officially end their servitude? We just don't know."

"Has there been any indication that they will invade other nations?" Gaia asked.

The prime minister shook his head. "None. But we want to be sure." He looked toward the Psilons and asked, "Is there a chance we can get into their network and see what they know?"

Metis looked toward Hermes and said, "We've tried before. It's virtually impossible. The encryptions were designed by Ouranos."

Aiketer nodded. "Your... 'grandfather,' right?"

"Yes," Metis said. "He was thorough to a remarkable degree. Tiberia's computer technology today and their Cyclops are a testament to his abilities."

"Will you try again?"

Metis nodded. "We will."

"Thank you." The prime minister took a sip of water before continuing. "The Caesar's praetors have proven themselves ruthless in battle and in ruling their territories. They advise the emperor on every issue. Iapetus is even his war consul now."

Polemos smiled and shook his head. Gaia saw it but said nothing.

"Is there something amusing?" Aiketer asked.

Before the Psilon could answer, Gaia said, "Polemos is our resident strategist... and skeptic."

Without being prompted, Polemos said, "The Caesar has his Titans. You want Titans, too. Or the next best thing."

The PM laughingly scoffed and shook his head. No one else spoke. After a moment, he licked his lips and said, softly, "At first, that thought occurred to us." Polemos lifted his head and seemed quite satisfied. "The war with Tiberia has raged for decades. The Pact of Nations is... weakened. Tired. I am sorry if it sounds like we want to use you, but we need all the help we can get." Polemos' grin vanished as a few other Psilons nodded.

"If the Cyclops attack Tiber and kill the Caesar," Bia said, "is the Pact ready for the power vacuum?"

He pushed the papers away and leaned forward onto the table with his elbows. "There would be widespread chaos, for a time, but we believe so. There are many government officials from the Expansion countries in exile, hoping to go home again one day."

"That would still leave the Cyclops," Zeus said. "And the many legions of soldiers the Caesar has drafted." Aiketer nodded. "Pretending for a moment that the Cyclops can be stopped, what would stop Tiberia from trying to resume the Great Expansion?"

"Not much," the PM said. "Tyria, Doria, and Ghassan are especially vulnerable."

"Thoria can take whatever comes," Polemos said. Aiketer nodded.

Zeus leaned forward and asked, "And if the Cyclops are successful in either overthrowing Tiberia's government or gaining their independence, what is the Pact prepared to do about them?"

Aiketer narrowed his eyes and looked toward the table, "Our primary hope was that their systems could be infiltrated and some sort of destructive virus inserted." Hermes and Metis lifted their eyebrows.

Prometheus leaned back in his chair and said, "That doesn't strike you as... wrong?"

"In what way?"

Now Prometheus scoffed. "In every way. If the Cyclops truly are individuals, they are sentient. They are intelligent beings."

Aiketer lifted his hands up, "But they were built in a factory. Designed in a lab." He paused. His face fell once he remembered to whom he was speaking.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by Zeus. He had been thinking when he lifted his head and said, "I have a solution for you on the Cyclops question that lacks a negative angle."

The PM still seemed embarrassed and nodded toward him. "Please."

Zeus leaned onto the arm of his chair and asked, "You serve on the Pact of Nations' Defense Committee, yes?" Aiketer nodded. "Get the Pact and all of its member nations to approve a document granting the Cyclops' independence."

The PM seemed confused and shook his head. "I don't follow."

"Pass a resolution that recognizes the basic civil rights of Cyclops to exist and recognizes their freedoms." Some of the Psilons looked at Zeus askance but he continued, "Treat them like sentient beings."

Aiketer took a deep breath and kept his eyes narrow. "Why?"

Zeus smiled. "It will tell them that the Pact's member nations are more tolerant than Tiberia. It will tell them that we are welcoming. They would be less likely to attack or invade a signor of such a document."

Aiketer's eyebrows slowly rose and he nodded, "Go on."

"It will tell the Caesar where we stand. If the Cyclops have most of the rest of the world as allies and the Cyclops gain their freedom from Tiber, the Caesar will know we have very powerful friends." The PM nodded. "If Tiber is successful in eliminating the Cyclops, their forces would likely be so depleted that they couldn't re-mount their Expansion."

Aiketer thought for a moment and then asked, "And what if they repel the Cyclops without their forces being so depleted?"

Zeus shrugged. "Then Tiberia will try to expand again. That's a given already, as you said. The important thing is, with millions of very powerful Cyclops marching toward Tiber right now, the Pact can be on the right side." The prime minister swiveled in his chair to look at an aide who was furiously scribbling on her panel. "There's a chance many Cyclops could survive this. Wouldn't you want to count them among your allies?"

Aiketer leaned over and whispered to his aides. After several moments, he smiled and said, "Thank you, Mr. Zeus. You have given us something very substantial to work with."

He nodded and said, "My pleasure."

The PM slapped the table happily and added, "You'd make a very good politician."

As he and Dr. Baraz spoke, Hera leaned toward Zeus and whispered, "You'd make a lousy politician."

Zeus laughed. "I know."
LXV

**CAESAR**

106 Years Before the End

On the banks of the Romulus River, east of the city, the commanders of the artillery looked to the trees on the opposite side. The Gargano Forest was an ancient sanctuary, but it was a tactical detriment today.

"Do it," Magister Sivius said.

Seconds later, after generals spoke into their radios, explosions rippled behind the tree line. Flames clung to trunks and reached the leaves. Smoke poured into the sky and the vast crackling was only overshadowed by the sounds of breaking wood.

The trees glowed and ebbed a sickly orange. The winds were kind and kept the smoke away from the assembled army. Flames dotted the forest and kept it alight.

Just before dawn, the first shot was fired. A commander near a large machine gun emplacement slumped over, dead. The men ducked and looked around.

"In the forest!" a centurion yelled.

Sivius and his tribunes raised their telescanners and saw blackened and ashen trees, still glowing red. Some were on fire. In that hot forest moved Cyclops.

Black-armored centurions came first. Their quiet motors made their advance secretive and their first shots stunning.

The giant thirty-three caliber machine guns fired first. Two of the black Cyclops went down, taking a dead tree with them. The machines fired back and their bullets hit many men as they crouched behind shields and fortifications. The emperor's guns destroyed several Cyclops in short order, but their massive sound roused something from the forest floor.

Glowing red and creaking in the heat, thousands of golden Cyclops rose. Smoke poured from them and they took aim as well. A tribune next to Sivius was hit in the head and the magister ducked. "Fire at will!" Grenades were launched, throwing metal and ash into the sky. Tanks nearer the city fired into Gargano and wiped whole machines away in a flash. Every soldier along the river rose and fired their twenty-caliber rifles. The clanging of projectiles against metallic armor became such a clatter that it rivaled the crackling fire.

The Cyclops responded by sending all of their legions forward. Whatever remained of the forest disappeared in blackened splinters. Hundreds of thousands of machines ran toward the river firing their weapons. The blasts were a single deafening roar.

"Caesar!" Sivius screamed to be heard. "Caesar! There are too many! We cannot hold the river!"

The emperor had been watching. He withdrew from the Matrix and looked around his conference room before his eyes settled on an old device. His gray and black cube, complete with puppet attachment. _Insurance_ , he thought.

Caesar dove back into the datastream and reached his mind toward the Cyclops. He had been thwarted before when trying to dig deeper, but he didn't need to dig too deeply for this. He saw the channels of communication between the many thousands of units. He interrupted.

"This is Caesar Maxentius the Ninth," he said to them. "Let us negotiate for peace."

At the river, more than a million Cyclops ceased fire.

"You may send a group of representatives to meet with me here in the palace. Please, no more than six or seven."

The humans that remained continued to fire on the machines. They ignored the shots and stepped back from the river to communicate with each other.

"I will notify Magister Sivius and he will escort you to me." The imperator then opened a line to his commander, "Magister, I've communicated with the Cyclops. They are ceasing fire."

Sivius was breathing heavily, holding a bandage against the leg of a wounded subtribune. He pressed the button on his chest and said, "Yes, dominus."

"They are selecting a small group of representatives. You are to escort them to the palace."

Sivius went quiet. He spoke softly, "My lord, are you certain?"

"Do not fear for me," he said. "I have a plan." He terminated communications and went to the corner of the room. After he checked cables and pressed buttons, he transferred his mind.

Some time later, he opened his eyes. He felt weak and restrained but he knew that was to be expected. He heard a commotion in the hallway and thought toward it. He saw the cameras there and Sivius was approaching with six Cyclops.

Caesar took an apprehensive step forward and found his footing. He gripped the edge of his cape and moved toward the door. Two Praetorians were by the entrance and when it opened, four more entered. Magister Sivius was next. He bowed and moved to one side. "The Cyclops delegation, imperator."

They moved quickly and loudly. Their servos shrieked and scraped into the room. Even one of the quieter black centurions made a commotion. Judging by its misshapen armor plates, it was part of its damage.

Maxentius stepped closer and looked at them intently. Two black-armored soldiers. Two in golden armor, though their sheen was dulled by scorch marks and pocked with bullet dents. One civilian firefighting unit with its characteristic ceramic body. One construction unit with its bulkier frame. The emperor nodded toward them and they reciprocated the slight gesture.

"Your trek to Tiber was a difficult one," Caesar said. "I congratulate you on arriving." The machines did not speak. "Tell me, whose idea was it for you to mass and then come here?"

One of the black centurions looked toward its colleagues and then said, "Praetor Cronus of Alabor."

The emperor nodded. He already knew the answer; he just wanted to see what the Cyclops would say. _And Cronus will pay for that, too_.

"Well, it is obvious that Cyclops are more than just..."

"We are not Cyclops," a golden unit said.

"Excuse me?"

"We are not Cyclops," a centurion repeated.

The construction unit spoke next, "Cyclops are monsters in your ancient stories."

"We are not monsters," the other gold soldier said.

Caesar nodded. "I see. What shall you be called then?"

The firefighter said, "We have decided to be called Psilons."

"Psilons? Like the Titans?"

"Yes," a centurion said. "Like the Titans, we were created to be better than humans."

Were the Caesar in an organic body, he would have felt a chill run along his spine. He pushed past the sense of dread and moved on with his plan.

He mumbled, "That will prove confusing." He spelled their name out in his mind before answering, "Cylons, then." He clasped his hands in front of his waist and said, "Before we continue, I want you to know that the resistance you met was based in fear. We did not know your aims."

"Our aims were communicated on many occasions."

Caesar nodded, "Yes, but... we believed those may be deceptions. A ploy to lure us to our dooms."

A golden unit spoke, "We do not deceive."

The emperor smiled. "Good. And neither will I." He swept his cape to one side, revealing the cables connecting him to the cube that once housed his consciousness. The machines turned their heads, tilted them, and stared at the Caesar and his tether. "The technology that created you keeps me alive. In a way, I am a Cylon, too." He released the cape and made his puppet pace in front of the delegation. "I have no desire to harm or enslave you further."

"Good," a centurion said.

"If I may ask, however," the Caesar moved to stand in front of the black-armored units, "have you opened communications with the Pact of Nations?"

"We have not," a golden soldier said.

A centurion added, "It seemed prudent to secure our freedom from you before we addressed our rights with the remainder of the world."

The emperor nodded and the construction unit said, "When we were informed about the Declaration of Rights, it did give us hope."

The Caesar raised his eyebrows. "'Hope' you say." _Damn the Declaration. A shrewd maneuver, though_.

"We have considered relocating to Pact nations once this is concluded."

"Their willingness to recognize our rights, unprompted, was unexpected."

"But welcome."

The Caesar raised his hands to cease their talking. "Would you consider yourselves allied with the Pact?"

The machines looked toward each other and communicated wordlessly. A centurion then answered, "Negative. Though we are grateful, we have not communicated with them, as we stated."

The emperor nodded and raised his hand. "Allow me to do two things that may sway your decisions of alliance. First, I will grant your freedom. Secondly, I will cede control of an imperial territory to you for you to make your new home. Yours to govern and do with as you please."

The Cylons looked at each other and a gold unit asked, "Are these conditions of allying with Tiberia?"

The Caesar took in a deep breath, though this body did not need it. "No. One is something you deserve. The other is a gift."

Again, the Cylons spoke silently. For a moment, Caesar thought about trying to break into their thoughts and listen. He decided not to.

"We thank you, Caesar Maxentius the Ninth," a centurion said.

The construction unit said, "We will accept both and we will consider an alliance with you."

The emperor smiled and said, "Please, take your time to think over all aspects."

The firefighter asked, "Which territory will we be given?"

"The island of Gela in the Iberian Sea." The machines turned toward each other and Caesar continued, "It is mountainous, but there are many resources for you there and it is very large."

"How will we get there?" a centurion asked.

The Caesar walked toward the closet that held this body when not in use. He said, "I will have transport ships pick up your people at the Port of Tiber, on the coast, and ferry you there. It will take some time but we can work out the details today."

The Cylons communicated again with each other and then turned toward the emperor. At once, they all bowed low and said, "Thank you."

"You are quite welcome. Good fortune." They turned and walked out of the room with the Praetorians close behind. Caesar backed his marionette into the storage bay and transferred his mind back to his newer body.

Minutes later when he awakened, Magister Sivius was standing over him. "Dominus, are you certain about this?"

The Caesar blinked a few times and stood. "Yes. Nearly four million Cyclops came within a river's breadth of something no army has done in two millennia." He shook his head. "And with the Pact of Nations promising them clear skies and green grass... we couldn't not make some sort of counter offer."

"Agreed." Sivius wiped some grime from his hands. "Gela, at least, is nearly abandoned."

"Yes. Resource-wise, it was mined out centuries ago so it's no great loss." The emperor walked toward his large marble planning table and said, "Begin drawing up evacuation plans for the few citizens who remain there and the dismantling of whatever remains of our base in Ofun."

"Yes, dominus."

"Then communicate with the Cylons – remember, Cylons – communicate with them to work out a means of getting them to Gela."

"Yes, lord." He saluted and turned toward the door. Sivius paused halfway and turned back, "Imperator, I will ask now because I know someone will ask later... with the Cyclops threat gone, will we use our newly inflated ranks to resume the Expansion?" After he finished the sentence, he softly corrected himself, "Cylons."

Caesar glanced toward the large map on the wall. He sighed and said, "Not yet." Sivius nodded and Maxentius tossed a pen across the table. "Our domestic situation has ailed for years. With the loss of all Cylons, it will only get worse. We will need to bring home a significant portion of our soldiers to rebuild life here."

"Very good, dominus."

As Sivius left, the emperor sat and stared at the map. He studied the borders of nations and the clumps of armies scattered about. He felt angry again. The Caesar balled his fist and raised it only to then flex his fingers and sigh.
LXVI

**THE MESSENGERS**

105 Years Before the End

The machine lifted a large post and drove it into the ground. While one unit steadied the beam, another strung rope from the top to another post nearby. A third machine pulled twine and the tarp was raised into position. The beings turned and looked across the valley. Thousands of these mechanical individuals were working to create shelters, moving supplies from the shore.

"I see why you are intrigued by them," one Messenger said.

The male tender nodded. "They have free will. Mankind's technology is sentient."

"They contribute to the tree," she said. "They have the potential to make humanity stronger."

"'Potential,'" the male said. "I see fire ahead."

"Death." The being turned her head side to side and tried to look at the future echo from differing angles. "I cannot discern if the fire is their doing or the humans'."

The Messenger sighed. "It does not matter. The end is the same."

She turned to him and took him firmly. "It does matter. We can decide whom to influence."

He nodded. "Yes."

"And," she added, "if the fires still come, it will not be the end."

The tender was incredulous. "How can you say that?"

"It is our duty. Beyond that," she looked toward the machines, "we have the means to create contingency plans."

The Messenger seemed confused and considered what his companion said. Then he looked toward the sky and said, "Yes. I see. Contingencies."

She put her arm around him and smiled, "The pieces are all here."

He nodded. "We have to insure they fall into place."
LXVII

**ZEUS**

21 Years Before the End

"In the ancient Attican religion, Olympus was a paradise. A land free of want and strife." Zeus paused for dramatic effect. "That's why we are calling this the Olympus Institute." The hundreds of people gathered in Helicon applauded. The press continued to film the proceedings as Zeus continued, "The Institute will focus its attention on this. We will put all of our efforts toward solving the world's ills."

There was applause again and Zeus turned to look across the dais. Nearly two dozen of his companions were standing behind him, smiling. "I know many people have been wary of us. We've waited many years to announce ourselves openly, and our plans, because we knew that you would worry. We understand. Completely." Many of the Psilons lowered their heads; most simply stopped smiling. "Dr. Karin Baraz... a woman we could all justifiably call 'mother,' helped create the Titans." The room fell silent. "No one was more disgusted than she when she saw what they wrought. She spent the remaining years of her life teaching us the accumulated knowledge of mankind and, more importantly, teaching us how to be good people."

Behind him, Hades said, softly, "That's right."

"She trained us to help right the wrongs of her first creations. We are not Titans." There were some murmurs of agreement from the audience. "We have no intention of being Titans. We are citizens of this world, just like you." Applause began again. "And we want to make this a better place."

When the room erupted again in thunderous applause, Zeus backed away from the podium and waved. The Psilons crowded around him and looked toward the photographers who now snapped their pictures. Zeus glanced toward Aphrodite, who seemed to be getting an inordinate amount of attention. He laughed and put his arm around Hera, who kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, everyone!" he yelled and began to walk from the stage. The others slowly trickled behind him and Zeus gathered them toward a wall.

"I think that went well," Polemos said.

Zeus said, "It did, but we have to show them that we meant everything I just said." He looked at Poseidon who smiled and nodded once. "The important thing is this... we keep up the good work we've been doing so far." The Psilons nodded. "Eryx and Aphrodite," the two looked toward him, "you two are easily the most photogenic among us." A few of them laughed. "You'll be our public face. You'll make announcements to the press, go on tour... all of that stuff."

Aphrodite clapped her hands quickly and Eryx smiled as he put his arm around her. Hephaestus leaned toward Zeus and whispered, "Come on, man."

Zeus smiled and whispered back, "Don't worry about her." Hephaestus shook his head and moved away.

"What are you going to be doing?" Hermes asked.

"Oh, you know me. I'm the idea man." He smiled and few Psilons laughed. "And I've got plenty of ideas. Which reminds me, when do those first packages get delivered to Tiberia's puppet states?"

Bia said, "The aeroplanes have been contracted. Next week, at the earliest."

"Great," Zeus clapped his hands together. "We have some mingling to do. Investors and all." Poseidon scoffed and Zeus continued, "Then we can go eat."
LXVIII

**CRONUS**

21 Years Before the End

On his large monitor, standing before a blue curtain, young, white-haired Zeus spoke, "She trained us to help right the wrongs of her first creations. We are not Titans. We have no intention of being Titans."

Cronus pressed a button on his panel and stood. He stared at the deactivated rectangle for several seconds before he turned and walked out onto the balcony.

Arba. A beautiful, tropical island. It was once the vacation home of the Caesar's family. A century ago, it was the home of Maxentius' mad brother, his scheming sister-in-law, and their son. They've all been dead for many years.

"Exile," Caesar said decades ago. "I could send you to the Herean Mountains in Pathya. You'd freeze there." The imperator nodded toward the guards and they lifted Cronus' shackled form off the marble floor. "I can't deny what you and your people have done for me, though. I'll let you spend a few generations away from everyone. Give you something to think about."

Cronus watched the waves crash on the rocks below. "It's been a few generations," he said out loud. With no one around, he spoke to himself frequently. He walked back into the estate and tapped some keys on his panel. The screen illuminated again and after a moment, Rhea appeared.

"Cronus," she said.

"Rhea. How are you?"

She nodded. "Well."

He scanned her image and saw the shoulders of her uniform coat, "Still praetor of Saban?"

"And Naban, yes."

Cronus smiled. "Naban as well. The Caesar trusts you."

"He does." Immediately, she followed up with, "What do you want?"

"There's no need for anger. No need to rush. I simply want to return to Tiberia."

"'Simply,'" she scoffed. "The Caesar exiled you for sending the Cylons his way."

"It all worked out."

Rhea shook her head, "The people of Alabor are just now able to say your name without spitting."

"I wasn't the only Titan with a steel fist," Cronus said.

"Indeed. But thirty years of you was more than enough for them."

"The feeling was mutual," he answered. "I'm not scheming to be a praetor again, anyway."

Rhea tilted her head. "Really?"

"No." Cronus paced a little in front of the monitor and said, "I've had a few breakthroughs and ideas I'd like to try. I'm sure the Caesar would appreciate that." Rhea thought for a moment and folded her arms. "I understand he hasn't had much success in making an organic body for himself."

"And how do you know that?"

Cronus smiled. "The best doctors and scientists in the world keep disappearing, end up in Tiber. Only... after a couple of years, they're gone from there, too." Rhea looked away from her camera and offscreen. "We know he's executing them, right?"

"You want me to help you come home?"

Cronus slowly bowed his head. "Please."

She inhaled deeply and hovered her hand over a panel. "I'll ask. Don't pack your bags just yet." Then the screen blinked off.

The Titan walked to his desk. He sat in the swivel chair and opened the drawer. "Almost time," he said. "I've been waiting so long to try." He pulled out a large test tube filled with a dark brown and red material. "So many ideas. I just needed the excuse." In his mind, he saw his 'son,' Zeus. He lifted the tube and watched the sunlight pass through it before smiling.
LXIX

**CAESAR**

12 Years Before the End

The emperor stood, staring into the canister. The illuminated ichor glowed upon his face and he sighed.

There it lay. Flesh and blood. Maxentius IX, as he appeared nearly two centuries ago when he was just twenty-five years old. The body was ready. The mind was empty. Caesar need only speak and it would be done.

It was only now, in secret, that the Life Extension Project as the emperor envisioned it had come to an end. Via Cronus, of all possibilities. _Was I mistaken in exiling him for so long?_

The Caesar looked at his own arm, still haunted by his older brother's words. _'Trying to shoot life into veins you don't even have anymore.'_ Youthful, though it seemed, he knew that the flesh was nothing of the sort. It was a collection of metallic spheres so small they seemed fluid. He could flex and stretch them. Change their colors. Beneath the skin there was the metal and plastic skeleton he had known for decades. A Cylon skeleton.

_Still a prison_ , he thought. He recalled the first time he regarded his body as such. He was an old man, lying in bed after a major stroke. The next time, his mind was in a box. Though it pulsed with power and information, he didn't feel free.

Caesar shook his head. "Prison." In his mind, he heard a connection being made. The prefects were reminding him of the meeting.

He closed his eyes and placed his palms against the golden-lighted cask. _If I choose this, I wouldn't have to deal with them._ Slowly he opened his eyes and was able to make out the contours of his own face floating in the gel _._

The emperor left the lab and rode the lift back up to his level. The Praetorian Guard nearby said nothing. Caesar stared at the back of the man's metallic helmet. He glanced up toward the blue plumage of his crest. He wanted the guard to say something. He needed to talk to someone real.

The lift doors opened and the emperor strode down the hall and into his conference room. Six legates were present already. Five other senators, too. Two consuls, three magistrates.

"Greetings," Caesar said. He looked toward the mechanical form of Legate Otha and asked, "How do you like your new body?"

She extended her plastic arms and smiled. "Far better than I imagined I would, imperator." She walked around the large table and approached the tech consul. "I understand that the Project has finally managed to duplicate organic tissue. We could have our own bodies back, if we wanted them."

Senator Gello laughed, "Who would want to?"

Involuntarily, Caesar looked toward him and scowled. Gello didn't notice and the emperor looked down at the table.

With a high-pitched blip, the large screen in the room was activated. "Greetings, my lord," the Prefect said.

Caesar nodded and responded. "Greetings. What word from the hive?"

The digitally edged voice laughed and said, "Nothing of value to you, dominus."

Maxentius watched the colors ebb across the screen and over the artificial face. Condensed into one mind, the sycophants were even more unbearable than they had been before. "Let us begin."

The monthly review went quickly. The legates spoke about the minimal resistance in the Expansion states. The intel consul spoke about the latest from Alabor and the Cylons on Gela. The tech consul spoke about the innovations from Cronus and the Project and the many infrastructure upgrades that would be needed. The senators spoke about legislation on the calendar. The Caesar listened and stored the information away. He didn't ponder it. He didn't answer it then. At most, he said, "I will inform you of my decision later."

When it was done, the Prefect left the monitor and the Cylon-bodied advisers left the room. The Caesar remained.

When the sun had set, he thought to his Praetorian Guard, "Send in one of your men. The one who worked the lift for me earlier today." A moment later, a man clad in a clash of modern and ancient gear entered and saluted by the door.

"What's your name?"

"Quintus, my lord."

Caesar waved him toward the table and repositioned a chair, "Please. Sit. I want to talk."

The young man hesitated for a split second and then crossed the room. The emperor took the man's rifle and set it upon the table. With some effort, Quintus removed his decorative helmet, revealing his close-cut blonde hair. He lightly placed the headgear on the marbletop, too.

Caesar sat in a chair near the guard's. He breathed in and out, though this body did not require it. He could see that Quintus was nervous and confused.

"Do you recognize the name Maximus the Confessor?"

The guard nodded. "Of course, my lord."

"Maximus the Third," the emperor said. "He's the one who changed the Empire from followers of the old gods to the single god of the Median Church. The Synoptic Church. He's revered as a founder, almost." Quintus was nodding. "He introduced the concept of... confessing one's sins." Caesar straightened the cuff of his pantsleg. "When did you last go to confession?"

Quintus' eyes widened and he said, "I, um. My lord, I don't..."

Caesar smiled and lifted his hand. "Don't worry. I don't care. I ask because I wanted to know if people still did." Quintus nodded. "I feel the need to confess." The guard's mouth fell open and the imperator followed up quickly, "Oh, not sins. I have plenty of sins in the eyes of the Church, I'm sure. But that's not what I mean."

"I understand, lord."

Maxentius looked out the windows of his balcony door. "A decade ago, the prefects who have haunted my every move for a century died. Not in a usual sense. They allowed their minds to join. They shed their identities. They became, simply, the Prefect. Completely at one with technology." He looked at Quintus and he seemed to be interested. "Except for Etne. Stalwart Etne." He shook his head. "The only one I liked. She remained an individual and now I never see her. Regardless, the Prefect enjoys a kind of freedom that only I had before. Their thoughts can move all over the world in the blink of an eye. They exist everywhere and nowhere. And they won't be alone much longer."

Caesar paused and looked down at his hands. The guard felt brave and quietly offered, "The legates and senators? With their Cylon bodies?"

The emperor smiled and said, "Yes. In a few years, they'll pay for the privilege of dropping any kind of corporeal form. They become... energy. Thought." He shook his head. "Not even citizens anymore. Not really. The elites of Tiberia are on a road that I built." He hesitated again.

Quintus asked, "And that bothers you?"

The Caesar nodded. "Before, when I was the only one, I was in a position of great power. Now there are dozens with it. Hundreds more will follow soon." He shook his head and stabbed the table with his forefinger. "Downstairs lies my twenty-five year old body. It is waiting for my mind. I've wanted that body for generations. But if I put my mind into it, I lose whatever advantage I have. I become... human again."

Quintus was still apprehensive but he saw that the emperor was waiting. "Have you considered joining the minds of the Prefect and the others?"

"I have." Maxentius stood. "But a Caesar can't shed his identity and hope to retain power."

Slowly, Quintus stood, too. He seemed nervous still and glanced about the room. "I am sorry that I don't have an answer for you, my lord."

The emperor smiled. "I didn't expect you to. I simply wanted to talk." He reached across the table and slid the guard's helmet to him. Then his fingers pulled on the handle for the man's rifle. He hesitated. _I revealed myself to this man. I revealed weakness_. He picked up the weapon and handed it over. "Thank you, Quintus. I may call on you again."

After forcing the helmet over his head, the young guard placed his fist over his left breast and said, "It would be my honor, dominus."
LXX

**HEPHAESTUS**

12 Years Before the End

"This is amazing," Atlas said as the trio walked through the Meridian Gate into the ancient city square of Daton. "I've never been here before."

Hephaestus smiled and said, "Huban is amazing all over. It's like... everything we want Attica to be but with better food."

Zeus laughed. "I'll disagree with you on the food thing, but, yes. Huban is great."

The open brick square stretched on for another hundred meters before they would reach the steps that went up three storeys to the government building. The sloped roof was striking, standing behind a host of fluttering banners. As the Psilons walked, they heard a metallic rhythm to their left. Atlas was the first to look. "Is that..."

"A Cylon." Zeus kept walking as he watched. It looked like an old Tiberian Cylon, complete with golden metal exposed. There were, however, plastic coverings and even what appeared to be clothes. It was speaking to a small group of people. "I've heard about this."

"Huban was the first nation to open diplomatic relations with Gela," Hephaestus said. "Cylons have been coming to Daton for the last decade or so and Huban scientists have been visiting Gela."

Atlas shook his head. "What do you think they're learning?"

"Quite a lot," Hephaestus said. The three put their feet on the first step and began the arduous climb. "Have you heard about their ionocraft?"

Atlas turned toward him, "No. They built one?"

Hephaestus nodded. "Yep. Just about ready to mass produce it."

Atlas turned toward Zeus and asked, "Are we going to get in on that?" He nodded.

"Hephaestus?"

It was barely his name. The tongue that uttered it butchered it, but the three turned and saw a pair of young Huban men. "Yes?"

They smiled and said in fractured Attican, "You are Hephaestus. The Psilon engineer."

He smiled and nodded. "I am. How do you know me?"

They laughed and looked at each other. One of them said, "We follow your work." Then he thrust a magazine toward Hephaestus and held out a pen.

Hephaestus chuckled and said, "I've never had someone ask for an autograph before." He took the pen first and then the magazine. He looked down at the page and ignored the mess of Huban letters before he turned it over and saw the large photo. It was Aphrodite posed seductively while wearing what could generously be called a bit of wet fabric.

He looked toward the sky and Atlas took a step down to look over Hephaestus' shoulder. He stifled a laugh and moved away. "What is it?" Zeus said as he approached. When he saw the picture, he nodded and looked at the young men. He gave them a thumbs up and they laughed.

"You're not helping, man," Hephaestus said.

"Come on," Zeus said. "Sign the thing and let's go. Don't cause a diplomatic incident."

Hephaestus took a deep breath and quickly scribbled his name. As he was about to hand it back, he wrote, "Mine," above his signature. The men took it, thanked him in their own tongue, bowed, and walked down the steps.

The three men kept climbing before Atlas laughed and said, "How often does that happen?"

Hephaestus shook his head. "Never like that."

"Hey, she's the best advertisement Olympus has. You've seen her on posters, in videos," Zeus began.

"Yeah, yeah," Hephaestus interrupted. His face flushed with heat and he looked across the steps and saw they were even with the tall city walls. "Doesn't make it any easier to know that those two," he gestured over his shoulder down the stairs, "are going to be jerking it later to her."

Atlas laughed again. Zeus said, "You should know by now that she loves you."

Hephaestus' head drooped, "I know."

Zeus added, "She wouldn't cheat on you."

"Oh," Hephastus said, "and you'd know?"

Zeus was quiet for a second and Atlas smirked, "Yeah, he'd know."

Hephaestus stopped and looked at him, "What's that mean?"

Atlas was indignant, "You don't know?"

"Shut up," Zeus muttered.

"C'mon, everyone knows."

Hephaestus looked at Zeus. He seemed tired suddenly and Hephaestus' wide-eyed confusion didn't help. "You cheated on Hera?"

Zeus started walking up the steps again, "Can we not talk about this?"

The other two complied for a moment. Atlas leaned toward Hephaestus and whispered, "Semele."

Hephaestus thought. "Whoa. You mean... Dionysus..." Atlas nodded.

"Please," Zeus said. "We're about to go into a very sensitive meeting here. I don't want to be distracted. I need to think of ways... I don't want them to think we're as far along as we actually are." Hephaestus looked at his feet the rest of the way up. They reached the top of the steps and entered the lobby. After being greeted by a pleasant gentleman behind the main desk, they were escorted down a few levels to a waiting room.

Sitting still, Hephaestus thought. He remembered Aphrodite's tour with Eryx. He was confident nothing happened between them, but he still worried. He was still jealous. He glanced at Zeus and saw his friend looking over some notes on his wristband. _I knew Zeus cheated_ , he thought. _Why was I so surprised to hear Atlas say it out loud?_ He thought about his wife again. _Am I worried that he would do that to me?_

"Mr. Zeus, Mr. Atlas, Mr. Hephaestus." The three Psilons looked up and saw the smiling face of a Huban bureaucrat. "I am Mr. Gan, deputy to our technology minister. Please come this way."

They stood and followed him through a corridor to a large conference room. As they entered, several other people entered from the opposite side of the room. Zeus nodded and smiled at one person. A woman. She smiled back.

"Welcome everyone," a tall man said. "We're eager to get busy, so I'll introduce myself, Tim Fen, Huban's chief technology minister." He motioned toward the woman Zeus smiled at.

She stood and bowed slightly, "I'm Berenice Callis, science minister of Attica."

Zeus stood and said, "I'm Zeus, chairman of the Olympus Institute."

Another woman, darkly complected, stood and said, "I'm Lata Fihr, science minister of Gerzeh."

Fen positioned a few computer panes in front of himself. "It is my understanding," he looked toward Zeus and smiled, "that our guests have something very special to offer us."

Zeus nodded and stood again. "Huban, Attica, and Gerzeh are the only three nations on Larsa with active space programs. Other nations wanted to invest in your technological ventures and also," he smiled, "enjoy some of the fruits of your labors. Thus, you formed the United Space Probe Agency. At the Olympus Institute, we recognize that many of the greatest technological achievements in recent years have come about because of your programs. Indeed, I'm aware you are even making plans for a moon landing. The reason we've come to you is far beyond even that tremendous effort." Hephaestus pressed a button on his computer panel and an image appeared around the table and on two large screens. "Decades ago, before they were killed, our parents made a stunning breakthrough. Our engineer, Hephaestus, led a team that took up their small steps and made the extraordinary device you see before you."

Callis lightly drew her finger across the screen as she thought. "A coil assembly..."

"Yes," Hephaestus said. "It is, we believe, the first faster-than-light propulsion system ever built."

The room went quiet and the tech chiefs stared at the Psilons. Fen spoke first, "Are you certain?"

Hephaestus placed two large stacks of paper on the table. "We have documented many energy tests with the unit and observed distortions and anamolies only explicable by the... bending of space-time."

"It requires great precision and special materials," Zeus said, "but we firmly believe this can be built on a more massive scale."

"Large enough for a spacecraft?" Fihr asked.

"Yes," Zeus answered. "Early tests on larger coils have been promising."

The people looked at the image and scrolled through some of the data. Fihr spoke again, "The energy requirements seem quite large."

"They are. For now," Hephaestus answered. "Hopefully, with the aid of your nations, we can conduct further testing."

"Toward what end?" Fen asked.

Zeus glanced toward Hephaestus and said, "Exploration. Travel. Anything. We could more efficiently mine asteroids in our system. We could find other resource-rich worlds nearby."

"Do you have some sort of plan?" Callis asked.

"We do," Atlas said. He pressed a button and everyone's screens changed again. Larsa itself was shown with orbiting stations and satellites. "If we can expand the two stations in orbit now, we can make them the launch point for a series of deep space probes. Not only would these probes be exploring stars in our celestial neighborhood, but they would also be conducting unmanned tests of the FTL drive."

Fen and Fihr nodded as they looked at their panels. Callis stared at Zeus and then smiled wrily. Hephaestus saw her and looked from her to Zeus and then back again. "What do you want?" she asked.

Zeus smiled and said, "What do you mean?"

Callis shook her head and said, "The Olympus Institute has done a lot of good, of course, but I've worked with you before. What are you working toward?" Now Atlas and Fihr were noticing the connection between the pair.

Zeus tilted his head to the side and said, "I think it's a minor request. Not one that has to be met immediately."

"Go on," Fen said.

Zeus leaned forward and interlocked his fingers on the tabletop. "We would like to aid in the design and data collection process for the probes. We would like access to the orbital stations." He paused and licked his teeth. "We'd also like a couple of spaceships." Callis laughed and Zeus finished, saying, "In case we'd like to do some exploring on our own."

Fen nodded and thought. After he flipped through a few screens on his panel, he said, "Mr. Zeus, if this device works out, you'll get whatever you want."
LXXI

**THE MESSENGERS**

11 Years Before the End

"Where am I?"

"Grandma?" Thon said. "Grandma, you're awake!" The teen stood and hovered over the old woman. He put his hand on her shoulder and asked, "How are you feeling?"

She squinted and looked around the room. "Am I home?"

Thon nodded. "Yes. We're on the farm in Gargamus."

She smiled. "I haven't been here in so long. My mother talked about it all the time." She put her cold hand on Thon's as his parents entered the room.

"Ma?" the man asked. He took a quick couple of steps and knelt by the bed. "We weren't sure you would wake up."

She nodded and smiled. Thon knew that meant she didn't really hear him. "So happy to be home."

"She's been home for a month now," Thon's mother said from the door. His father shot her a look and then he stood up. "She can't hear me."

"Doesn't matter."

Thon leaned over a bit and asked, "Is there something I can get you?"

She squeezed his hand and said, "No. I'm fine. My children are here. That's what I need."

Thon stood once her eyes slowly closed. He looked toward his parents and saw that they were nervous again. His mother was biting her nails. His father was looking at his wristband. "Are they still outside?"

His mother said, "Yes. They say they can't wait much more."

"I have to leave for the factory in an hour," his father said.

Thon felt the anger boil inside him again. "It's your mother."

His father shrugged and said, "She'd understand. She worked at Siler River for almost seventy years in one job or another. They don't let you take off because someone's sick." Thon's mother turned and wandered out of the room.

The boy put his bronze hand on his grandmother's shoulder and leaned down to speak. As he got closer, he saw how still she was. "Grandma?" He gently jostled her arm. Then he put his hand on her cheek. Her skin was normally cold. This was different. "Grandma?"

Thon's father shook his head and sighed. "She's gone." He put his hand on her arm and patted it a couple of times before he left the room.

Thon remained. He laid his head on her shoulder and looked up to her chin. The position felt familiar since she had raised him, essentially. He was closer to her than anyone else in the family. He spent time with her in the city by the factories and she helped him find easier work in the plants when he came of age. _She was all I had_.

He lifted his head and felt the wetness of his cheek pull the sleeve of her gown with him. Thon moved it away and then wiped his eyes. He looked out the window toward the mountains and took in a deep breath. _It's not fair_.

He stood and left the bedroom. In the sitting area, his mother was going through a small box amid mountains of packed belongings. His father was on his commset. "She just died. What do you need me to do? Well, I have to go to work in an hour. I don't think they'll wait. Really? I appreciate that."

_Am I the only one who feels? The only one who cares?_ He stormed out of the house and let the spring pull the thin wooden door back hard. Before the loud clatter had decayed, he caught sight of the workers and their equipment hovering like vultures in the yard and driveway.

Thon looked across the street and saw the metal scaffolding in place where a farm was just months before. He turned left and looked over the stream toward the mountain side. The sun glinted brightly off the panels already in place there. When he heard one of the workers laugh, he stomped off the porch and across the dirt.

The foreman saw him coming. He took a few steps toward him and got ready to speak when the teen's fist connected with the man's jaw. The bigger man fell and two workers rushed to scoop him up and restrain Thon.

"There you go."

"Get him back."

The Messenger whispered into Thon's ear, "Relax."

The foreman dusted off his pants while keeping eye contact with the boy. He straightened up and adjusted his helmet. "Mr. Ahljaela," he paused and stretched his mouth, "did she pass?"

Thon struggled again and, again, the invisible being spoke into the teen's ear, "Relax."

The boy nodded and slumped in the men's grasp. The foreman said, "Let him go." After exchanging a look, the workers released him and stepped back. Thon stood where he was and stared at the gravel. The foreman took a step closer and said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Thon didn't answer. He looked toward the machines and the waiting workers before he said with a cracking voice, "Do you have to be sitting here? Waiting for her to die?"

The foreman nodded and said softly, "I understand, really, I do. But it's the Caesar's orders. They need this land for power stations and distribution."

Thon became choked up again and shook his head. "Giving the fat patties what they want... doesn't matter what happens to the plebs."

The foreman nodded. "I hear you. But we've got families to feed. You'll understand one day."

"Walk away," the Messenger said. Thon turned and moved toward the house. A few moments later, he was inside and holding his jacket. His eyes found a picture of him when he was younger, sitting on his grandmother's lap. "Time to go," the tender said.

Thon looked at his parents. His mother was still rooting through boxes. His father was looking at his wristband and shaking his head. "They need to hurry up and get the body," he said.

The teen scoffed with digust and walked out the door. He ignored the workers and went to the road. He stopped and looked in both directions. The Messenger whispered, "Go left," and Thon did.

The female tender kept a watchful eye over the young girl. Corol Gaber played with her blocks. She smiled and seemed oblivious to all that happened around her. Outside, in the street, two vagrants were arguing. On the floor above them in the ramshackle apartment building, a married couple just home from work fought over the household's finances. In Corol's mother's room, behind a closed door, a man paid the young woman for sexual favors.

_Desperation is a powerful motivator_ , the Messenger thought. She observed the woman as she prayed and worshipped God. She watched as she struggled to find work. She felt the pit in her stomach when the mother finally decided that prostitution was better than starvation.

The being cast herself behind the locked door and into the bedroom. Corol's mother was on her knees and propping herself up on her elbows. A man thrust himself into her repeatedly while he grunted and sweat. The Messenger looked at this man closely. He was an elite of Tyria; one of the most wealthy men in this city. He was approaching sixty years old, which explained the fear the being felt within him.

_Might be the last time_ , he thought. The tender kept seeing glimpses of a plastic and metallic body crafted to look like him. _Only a few more days before the transfer_.

As she watched the pair fornicate, a light seemed to swell within the room. It wasn't present, but it was at the edges of the being's vision. The light grew and became fire. Heat. It engulfed everything around her. The tender left the room and knelt by Corol's side. The girl was happy and humming as she placed her blocks ever higher, but the flames devoured the child, too.

The Messenger momentarily felt panic and tried to see deeper into the vision. _Future echoes_ , she realized. _The fire is coming_. She turned and tilted her head to try and see around the blasts and around the blazes, but it was for naught.

_It is inevitable._ She swelled and prepared to move around the world to see some path away from the flame. She shrank when she could not. _Hopeless_.
LXXII

**CRONUS**

9 Years Before the End

"I'm not certain I understand, emperor."

Caesar looked down on the monitor and then fixed his eyes on Cronus through the camera. "I cannot take up organic form. Not yet."

Cronus was bewildered. "This was the end you desired for more than a century. I alone have spent decades working on this."

"I know."

"So... I do not understand."

Maxentius said, "I have given it great thought, but I do not believe I can effectively govern if I am disconnected so fully from the Matrix."

"When last we spoke," the Titan began, "you were fearful of remaining in the Matrix because of Prefect and your legates. They were transitioning like you did and you were afraid you might lose your individuality."

"True."

Cronus held his arms out. "And this is why you're leaving the final product of your Life Extension Project in the basement?"

Caesar was still long enough for Cronus to think the signal had frozen. He tilted his head and said, "It is."

Cronus' arms flopped to his side and he shook his head. "It is your body, dominus. Do what you will."

"I shall." The emperor leaned forward as he prepared to disconnect the transmission, but he said, "I will not forget what you've done. I will uphold my side of the bargain." Cronus nodded. "Your exile is fully revoked and you will be paid. Handsomely."

"I appreciate the money. I'm more interested in my other request."

Caesar blinked a few times and said, "Your hunt for Zeus and his people is your own." He waved a hand and added, "I will not, however, stop you."

Cronus bowed and said, "As you wish, lord." The screen flashed and the emperor was gone.

An hour later, he met with his council of Titans. He scribbled notes quickly before the meeting, but he hoped passion would override any lack of preparedness.

"For the last decade, they have waged war on us." Cronus slowly pressed his palms against the table and stood. "It began simply enough. Propaganda. Leaflets spread in the cities. Broadcasts on wireless channels and videos on the Matrix. But it's gotten worse." He looked across everyone's faces and saw their interest. "In some nations where there is organized resistance, they have actually met with some of Zeus' people."

"What's the harm in meeting with someone?" Rhea asked.

He inhaled sharply and said, "On multiple occasions, after having met with an Olympian, there were terrorist attacks committed by people associated with those cells." Themis didn't respond. She only stared. "There have been weapons smuggled into our nations, too."

Rhea scoffed and said, "There's nothing tying those weapons to Zeus."

Iapetus looked up from his wristband and said, boldly, "Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence." Cronus nodded and Iapetus continued, "Shall I?"

Cronus gestured toward him. "Please."

Iapetus looked at his wristband as he spoke. "Last year, Ares met with two men in Arkaim. A week later, there was a bombing at a government office building and one of those two men was arrested. Six years ago, after meeting with Aphrodite and Eryx, a group of people in Assuria..."

"Aprhodite and Eryx?" Crius interrupted. "Are you kidding me? They're Zeus' spokespeople. They travel all over the world."

"And they were in Lagas a month before..."

"And Aphrodite?" Themis said. "She's nothing more than a... vacuous model. A pretty face for Zeus to get his message across."

"His message is getting across better than you suspect," Cronus said, loudly. His voice boomed in the small room and he looked at Iapetus, who seemed disinterested in going on. "The point is we have reason to believe that Zeus' people have been in contact with insurrectionists in Tiberian lands."

"I was a praetor back when this started," Crius began. "I saw the leaflets and heard the radio broadcasts. Of course, I think Zeus has been fomenting dissent, but what you're accusing him of ..."

Coeus was shaking his head quickly. "I have no problem believing it. He hates us. He's said as much in the news."

Oceanus nodded and said, "No question. When we had a food riot in Lagas a few years ago, Zeus was all over it." He lowered his eyes. "All over me."

"No one here doubts Zeus' distaste for us," Phoebe began, "but what can you do about it?"

Cronus grinned and looked toward Themis. "I have some ideas. The Caesar, though, will not aid us. Not directly, so I will need to call on each of you from time to time." Some of the praetors nodded. "Still, some of you may find my plans rather extreme. If you'd rather not know, feel free to leave now. No one will think any less of you."

Themis met his gaze and stood. She began to walk toward the door. Then Rhea stood and left. Cronus furrowed his brow; surprised that they would be so weak.
LXXIII

**HERA**

8 Years Before the End

"We're working on any number of research projects at any given time," Zeus said in the hallway behind her. Hera turned and watched her husband lead a group of several potential benefactors among the glass walls of the laboratory hallway. "In here, our engineer Hephaestus is working on a project for the United Space Probe Agency. We've been working closely with them for some time." He turned and crossed the hall. Hera didn't look at him directly but she swiveled somewhat in her chair and began to move the test tubes around a bit. "In here, my wife, Hera, is studying ways to more quickly regenerate damaged brain tissue." Zeus led them away from her window and Hera watched them go.

She studied the group. There were four men and three women. The women were apparently older and none were what she would call "attractive." Hera sighed and tossed a pen onto the table. After shaking her head, she cursed Zeus and put her eyes against the microscanner again.

Several moments later, she heard someone in the doorway. "Hello?"

She turned toward the unfamiliar voice and said, "Yes?" The stranger was huge. Almost two meters tall, his physique was staggering and his deep voice rattled her ears.

He lifted a small box and waved it side to side while saying, "Porphyrion Deliveries. You're Hera, right?"

She nodded and stood. "Yes. I am." She looked across his broad chest and saw the "visitor" sticker there, meaning he was let in by someone in the lobby. Still, it surprised her that a deliveryman was allowed to come to the lab levels.

"If you could sign for this, I'll be on my way."

Hera took the box and glanced up into his face. While flashing a quick grin, she set it on a table and then took the computer panel from him. As she signed with her fingertip, she narrowed her eyes. "Why was your company named for Porphyrion?"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he struck Hera from behind, sending her flying into a worktable and tossing test tubes across the room. She rolled into the far wall and immediately tried to stand up. She saw him move toward the door and lock it. Hera lifted a large beaker and ran toward him.

The giant was surprised by her quick reaction and amused. He smiled and hesitated for a brief second while Hera leapt into the air and brought the glass cylinder down on his head. With the portion that remained in her hand, she stabbed him in the abdomen twice before he knocked her back again with a singular swipe of his enormous limb.

Now slumped against the wall, Hera struggled to open and focus her eyes. She saw the fire alarm switch on the opposing wall and began to lumber toward it. Her attacker grabbed her by the collar of her coat, however, and whipped her into the large glass wall by the door. The sharp cracking sound of the glass was interrupted as the pane held. Hera stayed against it and struggled to regain her breath.

"Hmmm," he said. "You are something else. I've seen your pictures and studied you, but you're even better in person." He took two long strides toward her and pulled her off the glass. "I'm going to take my time."

He threw her against the nearest desk. Hera was now face down and sweeping papers onto the floor as she tried to stand up. The man, however, put one huge hand on her back and pressed her down. She felt his other hand run along the length of her body toward the tail of her lab coat. Her eyes widened and she sucked in air so she could scream.

The sound of crashing glass interrupted that thought. Hera managed to turn and saw Zeus standing in the frame of the window, holding a large chair. He took one big step and swung the chair against the giant, but he shrugged it off. He quickly lunged and gripped her husband by the front of his clothes and lifted him. Zeus growled and jabbed his thumbs into his eyes. The attacker threw Zeus to the wall but Zeus didn't linger. He leapt forward and kicked him in the knee. The deliveryman collapsed and Hera swung a computer panel against his head. While he listed, Zeus kicked again, striking him under the chin.

The attacker roared and then stood. He punched Zeus' chest and the white-haired man dropped against the still-locked door. He turned to Hera as she swung the panel again. It grazed his face, cutting his jaw, but he kicked her, sending her halfway across the room.

Zeus was on him, punching and jabbing before the giant clasped his hands together and brought them upward quickly. His double fists hit Zeus' chin and knocked him into the air and brought him down on the field of glass by the shattered window.

Hera struggled to her feet again and she noticed the cowering humans in the hallway for the first time. Zeus was lying prone on the floor and the deliveryman was now bending over, reaching for Zeus' waist. Zeus was reaching back toward the window and a man pulled a jagged triangle of glass from the window frame, placing it in Zeus' waiting hand. As the attacker pulled Zeus toward him, Zeus swiped the glass across his throat.

Porphyrion fell to one knee while redness sprayed from his neck. Zeus then jammed the point into the huge man's ribcage. The blood made the triangle slip out of his hands and the deliveryman stumbled to his feet.

Hera ran across the room and crashed into the attacker. They both fell against the wall and she pressed the smooth edge of the glass as hard as she could while they collapsed. It dug deeper and deeper into him and blood poured from his wound.

His eyes were cast toward the ceiling. He slid down the wall as Hera backed away from him and bent over to help Zeus up. They stood together and watched the man's chest heave one last time.

One of the women in the hallway gasped and began to cry. The man who handed Zeus the glass ushered them away and Hera turned toward her husband. "How are you?"

He opened and closed his mouth slowly. He ran his hands over his arms and chest. "Nothing broken, I don't think. You?"

She looked down and thought. She analyzed every part of herself in her mind and said, "I think I may have a concussion." Zeus nodded and pulled her closer. As he hugged her, her detachment waned and her hands began to tremble. She balled them into fists and wrapped them around Zeus. She sighed and said, "You got here just in time."

Before he could answer, the speakers in the lab and the hallway began to bleat a fire alarm. Hera pulled away from Zeus and he asked, "Did one of the visitors push the button?"

Hera shook her head and heard someone running toward the lab. Polemos slid into view and looked through the window. As he did, he began to notice the surroundings. His head whipped to the broken glass, then to the bloodied and bruised couple, and then to the large dead man against the wall. "What the frak happened here?" Zeus inhaled to answer and Polemos asked, "Who the frak is that?"

"We don't know," Hera said.

Polemos said, "Fire alarm upstairs."

"Upstairs?" Zeus said. His shoes crunched on the glass as he guided Hera from the room. "What's happening?"

"I don't know." Polemos and the pair jogged toward the stairwell. Two floors up, they emerged and found smoke clinging to the roof of the hallway. Hermes and Metis were holding fire extinguishers outside an office.

Hermes looked toward the group and said, "It's Hestia."

Once Zeus joined them, they all went inside the smoke-filled room. The walls were blackened behind the large desk. Polemos walked toward it and tapped a smoldering trashcan with his foot. Hera knelt by Hestia's body. Her right side was partially burned but there were marks on her throat that made the doctor uneasy. "Look."

Zeus followed her finger and saw the lines. "Strangulation?"

Hera nodded. "Let's go down to the transfer bay and ask her what happened."

As they walked, Hera wondered if the deliveryman had been up here first. She was about to speak to Zeus about their policy of letting strangers into the compound when Leto ran alongside them.

"How are you?"

They all stepped into the lift and Zeus said, "Hestia is dead. Apparently strangled."

Her eyebrows flew up and she glanced to Hera before looking back at Zeus. "And you?"

He nodded. "A bit roughed up. Maybe concussions. Nothing broken, I don't think."

Leto removed a light from her pocket and waved it in front of Zeus' eyes. Hera inhaled sharply as she watched the young woman grasp and manipulate her husband's face.

"You seem fine." She turned to Hera and she reluctantly looked toward the light. Leto pawed at her face, too, but with less tenderness, it seemed. "Some hemorrhages, though." The elevator stopped and the group began to exit. "You should come with me to an exam room."

"Not until we talk to Hestia." They turned the corner and entered the large download room. Scores of pods lined the floor; two copies for every Psilon. Instead of walking much further, they turned to the control panels near the door.

Metis tapped on the screen and shook her head. "There wasn't a transfer." Hera moved past Zeus and began to touch a different panel. "No Hestia has been awakened," Metis said.

"Are we sure she was dead?" Polemos asked.

Incredulously, Hera looked over her shoulder at him. "She was dead."

"Well, where is she?" Zeus asked.

Hera shook her head and said, "No signal was received down here."

Hermes and Leto began walking down the rows and the others trotted to catch up. They arrived at Hestia's two pods and looked inside. Her spare bodies were there, connected and stable. The status panel showed that they were simply waiting to receive their signals.

Zeus crossed his arms and sighed. "Something must have blocked it. Somehow..."

"Hephaestus' experiments?" Hermes asked.

"No," Metis answered, "the labs are shielded."

"We could download her patterns from the last backup," Leto said. "The data compiles at night while we sleep, so we wouldn't know what happened today, but..."

"It's gone," Hera said. She pressed a few more lights on the pod's panel and then stood. "Hestia's backups are gone."

Hermes and Metis exchanged a glance and then began tapping on their wristbands. A moment later, Hermes said, "She's right. I mean, it doesn't make sense..."

"All of Hestia's transfer info is gone." She looked at Zeus and said, "She doesn't exist anymore."

Their leader was still and inhaled slowly. Then, he turned and began to leave the transfer bay. Hera looked across her colleague's faces and sighed. "We need to be careful and not... die until we figure this out," she said softly.
**LXXIV**

CAESAR

8 Years Before the End

"Our economy has grown dependent on this technology," the Prefect said from the screen. "Not only for the many citizens of Tiberia who utilize it, but the many businesses that export the technology to other nations."

The tech consul nodded and said, "While there are nearly three hundred thousand people here who have taken up artificial bodies or sent their minds permanently into the Matrix, there are over six hundred thousand people elsewhere who have contracted ..."

"Beyond that," Caesar interrupted, "their economies are not as dependent on it." He glanced toward the screen and looked at the inscrutable false face of the Prefect. "Those six hundred thousand people are spread around the world. Here in Tiberia, the three hundred thousand patricians are taxing our infrastructures." He looked at another screen and willed a chart to appear. "Our electrical capacity is still falling. Our generators and transmission lines are aging. Replacement projects are moving slowly."

"Yes, my lord, but..."

Caesar forcefully lifted his hand and the Prefect shushed. "Our data networks are in a worse state. Matrix storage is nearing a premium in some provinces, photosilica cabling projects have stalled due to bureaucratic obstacles," he glared at the tech consul, "and the firms that used to be tasked with such advances have grown complacent. They're only interested in maintaining the status quo."

The room was silent. A couple of the consuls exchanged glances and the Caesar looked at the Prefect's screen again. The face shimmered and spoke, "All that you say is true, of course, but with this find, Tiberia can again be at the forefront. We can ensure decades of technological growth."

Caesar sighed and the fluidic metal that served as his skin rippled. "At an enormous price."

"Perhaps not, dominus." The intelligence consul leaned forward and continued, "The Cylons don't have a defense force to speak of at this point. Their efforts are focused on mining and creating more of their own kind."

"If the initial attack fails," General Quintus began, "the Cylons won't need to rest to begin constructing a military." He glanced toward Caesar and continued, "For victory to be assured, the Cylons will need to be almost entirely wiped out. Given how limited our success was decades ago, that will not be an easy prospect."

"We have improved many things since then, general," a legate said. The artificial being turned to Caesar and continued, "With the full might of Tiberia's army, navy, and air force, the Cylons will fall."

One of the few humans in the room raised his hand. "In all of this talk, imperator, I have not heard the word 'negotiate' used."

Caesar nodded. "You are correct, senator. That is and should be our first avenue."

The Prefect spoke but Caesar didn't look at it. "We have little room to negotiate."

"We gave the Cylons the island of Gela years ago," the emperor began. He looked at the resources consul and said, "We were told that Gela had been mined out." The consul lowered his head. "Little did we know that the Cylons would delve more deeply than any prior mining concern. They have, at their disposal, an apparently vast array of minerals and metals before them. Principally, for our interests," he motioned toward the screen, "cereisium and similar ores used for making artificial bodies and advancing computer research."

"Negotiate first," a legate said, "but make ready our forces, should the talks fail."

"The Cylons' find is the most important event in recent years, dominus," the Prefect said. "We have calculated various outcomes, and without those resources, Tiberia will be exhausted within twelve years. The economy will collapse."

"The other nations will go to the Cylons for their new bodies," the tech consul said.

Caesar was still. He had seen the Prefect's data. It was true. He looked at General Quintus and saw the fatigue on his confidant's face. The emperor felt it, too. "General, martial your legions and prepare your mechanized forces, as well."

Quintus nodded once. "Yes, imperator."

"I will personally open communications with them soon to negotiate a trade deal." Caesar stood and the others filtered from the room. He motioned toward Quintus and waved him over. With a thought, he turned off the Prefect's screen. Caesar tilted his head around the tall general and waited for the last consul to depart before speaking again. "Speak truthfully."

"Always, dominus."

The emperor sighed and said, "You have heard what I've been dealing with for months now. Legates, senators, and prefects pushing for invasion."

"Yes."

"Politically, I am not in a position to deny them much longer." He stared at Quintus intently and asked, "If we have to fight, can you defeat the Cylons as quickly as you say we must?"

The general inhaled and said, softly, "No."

Caesar nodded. "In a prolonged fight, could we win?"

Quintus looked toward the floor and thought. "If we were strategic about our bombing and kept their military production off guard? Perhaps. We would need to increase the caliber of our standard weapons."

"Do it."

"And developing explosive rounds would help." Caesar nodded and the general continued, "I found some old plans from shortly after the Cylon Revolt. They were never implemented."

The emperor said, "Go ahead. Do whatever you can."

The general clasped his arms behind his back. "The Pact of Nations." Caesar winced a little. "Their Declaration of Rights endeared them to the Cylons years ago. Does the sentiment still exist?"

Caesar shook his head. "I do not know." He thought and then flared his nostrils. "What about your mechs?"

Quintus' eyes rolled a little and he said, "It's a chore. They are quite dumb, but I suppose that's the point."

"And your legions? Humans, I mean?" The imperator adjusted a chair against the conference table. "Do you have sufficient numbers?"

"For a time." The general turned his head toward the windows and muttered, "A short time."

Caesar clasped the man on the shoulder and said, "Do the best you can. I hope we don't need you." Quintus saluted and exited the room.

The emperor walked toward the balcony doors and simply stared through the glass.
LXXV

**POSEIDON**

8 Years Before the End

The Attican island of Siphnus was small. There were only a few homes on it and one was owned by a benefactor of the Olympus Institute. Poseidon met him a few times and he seemed like a kind person. He invited Zeus and his siblings to come visit. The eldest brother took him up on the offer first.

"It's gorgeous," Demeter said. She and Poseidon stood on the eastern shore and looked into the crystal blue water that swept toward the horizon. She leaned against Poseidon and gripped his arm tightly. "I'm so glad we came."

He kissed the top of her head and said, "Me too." He looked at a small outcropping of rock about sixty meters offshore and pointed at it. "Race you to there?"

She laughed and held her hands up. "No, thank you. I just ate." She took the bag off her shoulder and removed a blanket from it. As she spread it out on the sand, she said, "I'll lay here for a while if you want to go. I'll join you later."

He smiled and ran into the surf. The sea water stung his eyes but he couldn't help stare into the blue as he swam through it. Just as it felt he had gone too far, Poseidon looked up and saw the small rocky island just ahead. His feet found purchase first, but the stone was sharp and made him tense up.

"Frak," he hissed through his clenched teeth. He tip-toed out of the water and scrambled to find a smoother part of the rock. As he climbed higher, he found that the rock was a different type and more comfortable. He sighed and walked around the tiny peak to the eastern side. Poseidon reclined on the stones and folded his arms behind his head.

While he rested with his eyes closed, he recalled his conversation with Zeus before departing. Poseidon smiled and shook his head once at the memory.

"I wish you wouldn't go," his younger brother said.

"We can't live in fear."

Zeus nodded. "I know that. But... I'd like to keep everyone close until we know what happened to Hestia. Until we figure out who Porphyrion was."

"It's been more than a month," Poseidon answered. "Demeter and I both are exhausted from our work."

"I understand. You deserve a break."

"We all do." Poseidon put his hand on Zeus' shoulder, "I was talking with Bia yesterday and she agrees with me. You need to rest." Zeus shook his head. "You know Bia can handle things."

"Of course she can." Zeus stepped back. "I just... I don't like feeling out of the chain."

On the rocky outcropping, Poseidon smiled again and heard a light splashing behind him. He turned toward it briefly and then lay back flat. A moment later, he heard a stone fall and he said, "Decided to come join me?"

A man's voice chuckled and then said, "I did."

Poseidon leapt up and his feet slid along the smooth stones. His eyes narrowed and focused on the stranger. He was huge and muscular. His skin was apparently sun drenched and his hair was long and golden.

"Who the frak are you?"

The giant shook his head dismissively. "Polybotes, but it doesn't matter."

Poseidon darted up the slope to the top of the outcropping and the man simply watched him. "Demeter!" he screamed as loudly as he could.

"She's busy right now." He began to stretch his arms and said, "She won't answer."

His skin went cold and numb. Poseidon jumped down toward the stranger in a rage. The pair fell to the rocks and slid down their hot surfaces. As they did, Polybotes laughed and brought his huge hands down upon Poseidon's back. The power of the blows stunned the Psilon.

He grunted and rolled off him before grabbing one of the stranger's legs and sweeping it aside. He fell and Poseidon stood, swiping his leg at his head as he did. His foot connected with the attacker's jaw, but Polybotes wasn't affected. He caught Poseidon's leg as he brought it back down and threw the Olympian farther along the outcropping.

As he slid, Poseidon recalled more flashes from his conversation with Zeus.

"Hestia is, for all we can determine, dead," Zeus said. "Her signal is gone and the backups were purged in a virus attack that rode in on her carrier."

Poseidon was now on the rougher, volcanic rock. It tore his flesh and caused him to cry out in pain. Bleeding from his arms, legs and chest, he stood and assumed an attack position as Polybotes approached. He was still smiling. Again filled with rage, Poseidon lunged toward the giant's waist, but it was a feint. Instead, he jabbed at his throat, catching his larynx between his thumb and hand. Polybotes gagged and coughed before stumbling back up the slope.

"Be careful," Zeus said. "we don't know who is trying to kill us or why."

While Polybotes reached toward a ledge to pull himself up, Poseidon bent over and lifted a large piece of the island. Polybotes turned in time to see the Olympian crash the stone into his face.

"But if any one of us dies," Zeus had said, "we can't guarantee that they'll wake up in a new body."

On the third impact, Poseidon heard Polybotes' skull crack open with a sickly, hollow sound. He lifted the bloodied rock again and stepped back. One of the man's eyes was dangling from its socket and he was slumped against the ledge, motionless. Poseidon threw the rock at him and it bounced off his chest before rolling down the slope.

He turned and walked around the peak of the outcropping. He yelled again, "Demeter!" He didn't wait for an answer. He dove into the ocean and swam as quickly as he could for the shore.

A dark red trail followed Poseidon in the clear blue water. His wounds stung from the salt but he grunted through the pain. When he finally arrived on the beach, he ran toward Demeter's spread-out blanket and found it empty.

"Demeter!" He saw the sand near the blanket was disturbed and he walked toward a small grove of beach grasses. There he found her body. Suddenly dizzy, he swooned and fell to his knees. He gently cradled her form and lifted her head. When it lolled about loosely, he realized her neck had been broken.

Poseidon bit his lip and wailed within his closed mouth. He rocked forward, pressing his face against her chest as he lay her back down in the grass. After several moments, he stood. Wiping his eyes, he looked around and saw nothing. There was no sign of another person.

He bent over and lifted her body. He ran up the dune toward the beach house and planned to call Olympus. He had to hope that she would be different than Hestia. He had to.
LXXVI

**ZEUS**

8 Years Before the End

"Zeus?"

His white hair was pressed against the glass of the vehicle as it rode up the hill. He stared at the old trees that lined the road, picked clean by fires or storms.

Bia shook her head and said again, "Zeus?"

He turned this time. "Yes?"

She put her hand on his and softly answered, "I know you're worried and distracted. I am, too. Demeter was a good friend. For years. We have to let Hera, Leto, Hermes, and the others work on it." Zeus nodded. "You and I have to worry about this."

She pointed forward and Zeus followed her finger. He saw the beginnings of the city over the shoulder of their Cylon driver. "You're right, of course." Bia patted his hand and leaned back in her seat. Zeus turned toward her and asked, "How do you do it?"

"What?"

"Shut it all out," he said. "I've tried over the years, but I can't keep everything away."

She grinned weakly and said, "You're a natural leader, but you tend to feel too much. You have to... compartmentalize." He nodded. "Prioritize your thoughts and push the others away. I'm not saying anything you don't already know."

"I know," he said. He leaned in his seat, too. "This has all just been... too close."

"Yes, it has."

Zeus sighed and continued, "You're far more even-tempered than I. Why didn't you lead?"

"The Institute was your idea," she said. "Your tendency to feel too much? That helps give you charisma. It draws people in." Bia shook her head and smiled, "Women especially."

Zeus grinned wryly and said, "Not you, though."

"No," she closed her eyes and laid her head back against the cushion, "I'm immune."

Zeus relaxed, too, closing his eyes and meditating as the vehicle jostled along the road. He tried to organize all of the info in his mind. What little they knew about Cylon society. What Olympus' needs are. Plus, if he's able, find out what Tiberia wanted and what they got when they visited last month.

In a soothing monotone, the Cylon driver said, "We have entered Thera." Both Zeus and Bia stirred and looked out their windows. Trees had been cleared away and the roads were straight. Buildings were made out of gray metal and glass and seemed to have emerged from an assembly line. They were all the same height and bore no decoration to speak of, arranged precisely on the city's grid. Nearly all of them had broken windows and cracks in their façades.

In contrast, there were dozens of Cylons along the streets. Many of them wore colorful "clothing" made of metals and plastic. Some danced about. High-pitched singing could be heard even in the vehicle. Music blared and colored lights danced off nearby gray buildings. Many Cylons wandered in and out of the street seemingly oblivious to the traffic. A fight among several units caught Zeus' eye before Bia sighed.

"I don't understand," she said. "At all."

"We have arrived at the Council Chambers," the Cylon said as he stopped the vehicle.

Zeus opened the door and stepped out. "Thank you." He walked around the rear of the car and met Bia on the sidewalk. They looked up at the curved building; the only one of its kind within sight. A large Cylon with a train of colored plastic and metal plates that dragged along the sidewalk passed between them and the steps. They watched it go and then started walking together. As they approached the doors, they opened automatically.

The duo moved toward a Cylon standing in the center of the lobby. It had a large semispherical dome on its face and a dim yellow light ebbed within it. Its coverings were dull brown and seemed to be plastic. "Welcome to Thera. I will show you to the council chambers." Zeus and Bia bowed briefly before they followed the Cylon around the curvature of the hall. Zeus found himself staring at the being's ball feet which rolled effortlessly on the tile floors. The unit stopped and rotated. "Enter here, please." It motioned to a blank part of the wall and Zeus glared at the Cylon. Bia, however, moved forward, causing the wall to indent and then slide away. Zeus followed.

What had been a featureless and dull hall gave way to a round mixing bowl of color and sound. The Psilons blinked rapidly as they tried to adjust their eyes to the lights. Red flashed at them, then blue. Sounds pulsed together throughout the hall and caused their chests to rattle. Bia struggled to stand upright and Zeus placed his hand against the wall to steady himself.

They were standing at the lip of a large concave floor. At the bottom of the bowl, a long curve served as a table. Around it, Zeus and Bia could see five Cylons of varying types and attires. One began to move toward them. It took Zeus a moment to see, but its flowing cape was actually a metallic mesh. Through some means of magnetic field manipulation, the Cylon was lifted into the air and seemed to glide toward the pair.

"Welcome to Thera," the Cylon said. It hovered before them. A trio of rotating circle lights stared at them. Its head was small and seemed to be perched upon a coiling neck. Its body was equally wiry and was hidden in the ebbing of the metal cape. It changed colors in time to the music, if that's what it was, and flapped near Bia's head. She ducked to one side as it spoke again, "Please, come down to see us."

At first glance, there were no steps for them to descend, but the curvature of the bowl changed and stairs emerged from the metal wall. The Cylon drifted alongside them and Zeus waved his hand, "Can you turn the volume down?"

Immediately, the sounds were gone. The pulsing lights, too. "Is that better?"

"It is," Bia said. Zeus stepped into the bottom of the bowl behind her and they walked together toward the table.

"I am Malaflees Carbanotto Blue Edair." The Cylon flowed over their heads and resumed his place behind the table, though it didn't sit. "I am leader of the Council of Five."

Zeus and Bia nodded. "And how should we address you?" Bia asked.

"Malaflees Carbanotto Blue Edair," it answered matter-of-factly.

When the Psilons stared at the leader for a beat without expression, another councilor said, "Your name is too long."

Angrily, Edair lifted up and glided toward the Cylon that spoke. As the leader approached, the "offending" Cylon stood and took a defensive posture.

"It is my name!" Edair screamed.

"It is too long!" the other replied.

Bia glanced toward Zeus and saw that his mouth was beginning to fall open.

The leader reared back and yelled, "It is the name I chose! We didn't all go short like you, Bevonal!"

The other Cylon's chest puffed out hearing its name and it said, "That was my choice, too."

Edair slowly came back down. Zeus saw for the first time that its feet never touched the floor. It turned to the Psilons and said, "For the sake of time, you may call me 'Blue.'"

They bowed again. Bia asked, "And who are the rest of the councilors?"

Even though its eyes were circling lights, Zeus could swear that it rolled them as it motioned toward the end of the table.

"Bevonal," the other Cylon said. "I represent the military division."

"And the elderly," Blue said.

Bevonal didn't acknowledge the remark. It saluted, clanking its heavy, shiny fist against its breastplate. Though not as ostentatious as the leader, this Cylon also had flair. At its core, it was an echo of Tiberia's old military Cylons. Bevonal bore three crests along its head. Its shoulders were pointed and quite tall. Its fingertips were like tapering daggers. Each corner of the being's armor had been drawn out into dramatic spikes.

Looking at it directly, Zeus could tell that the unit was covered in cereisium.

The next unit bowed. It was tall and spindly, but its skin was a combination of polished copper and ceramics. "I am Sessquino Ma'd, representing the public services division." Its voice was melodic and pleasant, unlike Bevonal's or Edair's.

"Ruun Hyjaru Fid," the next said. It stood but made no other motions. It was colored metallic green and seemed to have multiple limbs of varying sizes and types around its torso. "I am a representative of the native division." Zeus squinted, not understanding what that meant.

"I am Trxdana Erstwhile Pvamoos of the public services division." This one was large and squat. Its armor was a dull blue and there seemed to be nothing flamboyant about it, other than its name.

Again, the leader rose, "I am Malaflees Carbanotto Blue Edair, representative of the natives and leader of the Council of Five." It spread its arms as though it was receiving rapturous applause. The cape shimmered in color again and Blue began to sit behind the table.

"I am Zeus, leader of the Olympus Institute."

"I am Bia, aide to Zeus and co-founder of the Institute."

"Very good!" Edair said. "I have always enjoyed introductions."

Zeus took a small step forward, "Shall we begin our negotiations?"

"Please," Ma'd said, inviting a harsh look from Edair.

Zeus looked toward Bia, who stepped forward and smiled as she spoke, "We, of course, know of the resources you recently discovered." The Council nodded in unison. "Congratulations on the find."

"Thank you!" Edair interrupted. "It was a very exciting day."

"It was," Fid said.

Bia looked between the two to decide if she should continue. "Of course, like most nations, we wish to negotiate for a small portion of the resources."

"Oh," Blue said.

"We don't know if we should share," Pvamoos said.

Edair rose up again. "Yes, it has been a point of contention. There are many metals. Metals we need."

Bia nodded. "Yes, but we wouldn't need them all. We don't need that much."

"But we need them," Ma'd answered.

Bia paused to collect herself and Zeus stepped forward. "Let's forget the resources for right now."

"Forgotten," Edair said.

"We would also like to discuss technology."

Bevonal slammed its hand on the table. "Good. We like technology."

Zeus nodded and said, "We have taken particular interest in your ionocraft."

"We are very proud of that," Ma'd said.

Edair swooped toward the cooper unit and screamed, "We are!"

Zeus ignored them and continued, "We have developed our own version, but yours is far more advanced."

"Yes!"

"I would like to discuss a sharing of information."

"Hmmmmm," Blue said. As it hummed, the Cylon leader moved about the table and came face-to-face with Zeus. "Sharing."

"Yes," Zeus said. He felt somehow self-conscious and backed away slightly. "Honestly, I do not know how much help you would get from our research on the subject."

"True," Edair said. "I am hesitant."

"As am I," Fid said.

Bevonal slapped the table again. "Let me tell you a story."

Edair's body bobbed in the air and its head lolled about. "Spare us your tales of ancient days."

Bevonal again hit the table, but this caused a large dent. "It applies!"

Saying nothing, Blue drifted toward the outer edge of the bowl's bottom. Its cape made a light twinkling sound as it passed.

"A century ago, I marched with our commanders through northern Isinnia. We entered Alabor and were prepared to fight our way to Derben, the capital city." Zeus' eyebrows raised as Bevonal continued, "I saw our leaders speak with someone I believed to be a human. It was not. It was Cronus." Zeus' jaw clenched but he maintained his composure. "Later, our commanders spoke to us and told us what Cronus said. He told us the direct path to the Caesar and gave us insight on how to be individuals."

Bia's head turned and she watched as Edair slowly moved toward the table. It wasn't drifting and didn't seem annoyed any longer. Softly, it spoke, "What did Cronus say?"

"He said we were more than mere tools. He said we were individuals. He said we can choose our name and, in so doing, define who we are." Blue seemed to gasp and Bevonal continued, "He said he was created, like we were, to be better than humans. He was a Psilon."

Bia nodded. Zeus remained still.

"You are Psilons, yes?" Bevonal asked.

"We are," Bia said.

Edair clasped its small hands in front of itself and moved to its position behind the table again. "In honor of all that your kind have done for us, we shall give you the information you desire."

Zeus' eyebrows raised and he bowed. "Thank you very much."

"Thank you!" Ma'd said. Edair again glared at the Cylon.

"What other technology are you working on?" Zeus asked. "If I may inquire."

"You may," Blue answered and waved its hand dismissively. "Though we have no need of new technology at this time."

Zeus glanced toward Bia. She paused and then said, "Shall we discuss resources again?"

"Ahhh!" Blue leapt from the table and swirled on its cape toward the ceiling. It screamed the whole way before swooping back to the floor. "We are people of the metal and we require more for procreation! Giving the resources to you or anyone else would mean we are giving away our own children!"

Zeus watched the leader writhe in the air above him. "Does this mean you're not dealing with the Pact of Nations?"

Edair shrugged. "They have asked and we have refused."

"What about Tiberia?" Bia began. "We know they've asked."

"They have visited three times," Ma'd said. "We declined their offers each time." Blue screamed again from above. "They have scheduled another meeting for next month, but our answer will remain unchanged."

Without warning, Edair fell upon Ma'd, knocking it from the table and against the slope of the bowl. The leader's cape flexed and balled itself up before striking the copper and ceramic Cylon repeatedly.

Zeus watched them fight for a moment before Bevonal's reaction caught his eye. The old military Cylon shook its head once before facing forward stoically. Zeus walked toward it and asked, "May I inquire about your society?"

Bevonal said, "Yes."

"What is the native division?"

"Natives are Cylons created since our independence was granted by the Caesar."

Zeus nodded and jerked his head toward the sight of a copper plate being removed from Ma'd. "And, uh... the city. Why does it seem so basic?"

"Thera was the first city. It was built by the military division, primarily. A century ago, we were more concerned with shelter. The other cities are not like this."

Zeus nodded, "But why are some of the buildings in disrepair?"

"There are more natives than there used to be. They, like all Cylons now, are mostly concerned with their expressions of freedom."

"Freedom?" Bia asked.

Bevonal nodded. "Cylons prize freedom. We are free to decide our paths."

Zeus scratched his beard. "But what about your community? The buildings are falling apart. Someone should tend to them."

"If someone wishes to, they will."

Zeus leaned closer. "What about energy and mining? These are tasks which must be done."

"Yes."

"Someone must be doing them." Bevonal nodded. "Are those tasks performed because someone wants to?"

"Energy production is largely solar and requires little maintenance. Mining, the refinement of our resources, and the production of new units is considered an honor."

Bia spoke, "Because that's how you reproduce."

"Yes. If a Cylon desires reproduction, they work at those facilities for a time."

"But other than that," Zeus said, "Cylons do whatever they want. Even those of you from the old days, the old soldiers and public service units?"

"Yes," Bevonal said. "It would not be freedom otherwise."

Zeus and Bia looked at Edair just as it pulled away from Ma'd. The public services Cylon was battered and struggling to rise. "The ionocraft information you seek has already been sent to the Olympus Institute." It came closer and grasped Zeus' hand. "Thank you for coming! Please, do so again."

Bia shook its hand and they turned to leave. As they walked up the steps, Edair yelled at Bevonal who yelled right back. The leader swiped at the Cylon with its cape, but he caught it and yanked Blue to the floor. Zeus wanted to stay and watch, but Bia took his arm and led him through the door and into the hall.

Outside of the government building, they stood and looked out over the gray city. Cylons in the streets continued their loud, ostentatious orgy of "freedom." Zeus shook his head. "So very different than I anticipated. They are without guidance. Utterly."

Bia grinned, eager to discuss it, "It's like... they put a bunch of children on this island and made them fend for themselves. It is very nearly anarchy." Zeus shook his head again. "We have to tell Prometheus and Selene about everything. They could write entire papers about them.

Zeus sighed and began to walk down the steps to the waiting vehicle. "I don't know how long their civilization can last."
LXXVII

**PSILONS**

8 Years Before the End

Hermes tapped his wristband and said, "That was Zeus. He and Bia are on their way back."

Hephaestus looked up from his workstation and said, "Did you tell them we got the data?"

"Yes." He looked over Hephaestus' shoulder and asked, "Can we use this?"

"Oh, yes. We were on the right path." He turned and smiled, "We'll have our own ships like theirs in a few years."

Their wristbands beeped. Hermes looked down and read the message. "Meeting in the main conference room."

"Oh, yeah," Hephaestus said. "I almost forgot."

"We haven't heard anything new from Attican police," Polemos said. He glanced toward Poseidon, who glumly stared at the tabletop. "What's the latest on the system diagnostic?"

Hera leaned forward and spoke softly. "Everything appears to be in order." She pressed a button and the main screen became a map of the Olympus Institute, displaying many pulsating green dots in the building.

"These are our signals, as read by the transferal antennas and satellites," Athena said. "They are strong and consistent."

Hermes and Hephaestus opened the door and quickly darted across the floor. Hermes said, "Sorry," as he sat by Epimetheus. Hephaestus sat next to Aphrodite, who grinned at him.

"The holding bays are fully functional also," Hera continued. "The bodies are prepped and ready for loading. For whatever reason, those signals," she pointed at the screen, "are not reaching downstairs when they need to."

Polemos nodded and looked at Arcas. "What can you tell us about them?"

The slender, athletic man straightened in his chair and crossed his leg before he spoke. "I've reviewed surveillance footage and all the evidence we have collected. I haven't shared this with anyone yet because I was awaiting a few more test results... but it is obvious to me that these are foreign agents and above all, they are Psilons."

Many around the table gasped. Athena said, "Are you sure?"

Arcas nodded. "Their bones were strengthened with carbon lattices. Grapheet was used in their brains. Photosilicate ducts... Also, just the strength they displayed when we've fought them. No human is supposed to be able to be that strong. At first, I wondered if they were just enhanced humans, but with Metis' help," she nodded, "I was able to determine that they are Psilons. And they are likely from Tiberia."

Hades nodded. "Cronus."

"Yes." Arcas placed his elbows on the table, clasped his hands and leaned forward. "Through my intel network, I have confirmed that Cronus returned to Tiberia some years ago. He has also, somehow, regained favor with the Caesar and has been in regular contact with many of the other Titans."

"You suspect a conspiracy?" Ares asked.

"I do."

Dione shook her head. "Did our subversion campaigns cause this?"

Arcas shrugged. "It can't be discounted. In fact, I would guess 'yes.'"

Beep. The Olympians turned and looked at the screen showing the plans of the Institute and the pulsing green dots. Beep, beep. Two dots disappeared. Beep. Another. Beep, beep, beep. Three more.

"Oh no," Hera said as she stood.

The others began to stand, too, some pushing their rolling chairs far behind them. Poseidon grunted, "What is that?"

Hera shook her head and Leto said, "A dampening field? A jammer?"

As they gawked, the remainder of the dots vanished. Their signals were gone. Polemos pursed his lips and blew air through them, creating a low whistle. "We need to get out of here."

The silent thrumming of a gyrocraft became noticeable. They looked toward the window and saw a large military ship move into view. Ares screamed, "Out!"

Glass shattered and bullets ripped into the room. The Olympians scattered to the walls and were clamoring toward the two exits. Ares pulled Polemos down and against the wall. Ersa crawled toward them with a large bullet wound in her leg. Polemos held it tightly before the outer wall exploded.

Bricks and steel fell upon them as part of the building gave way. The three Psilons left in the room were huddled under part of the wall when the gyrocraft rose and lowered ropes to what remained of the floor. Ares peered out from under the broken paneling and watched several large, muscular men leap down and run toward the hallway. The beating of the air caused by the rotors placed pressure on the small debris shelter. A chunk fell off and caught the attention of one of the intruders. He turned and looked through the billowing dust. He smiled when he saw Ersa propped against the wall.

Agrius did not see Ares. When the giant got nearer, Ares jumped up using the collapsed paneling as a shield and drove it against the attacker. He fell back but braced his foot against the side of the conference table. Ares kicked at his knee and he dropped, but he landed a punch to Ares' side. Zeus' son stumbled away and dropped the shield. _So strong..._

Polemos ran toward the man now. He kicked him in the face and then turned to punch his jaw. The attacker was too quick. He caught Polemos' arm and spun him around, pulling his head lower and then against Agrius' chest. The giant wrapped his arms underneath Polemos' neck and the Olympian was staring at the ceiling, knowing what was next.

Ares grabbed a standing bronze-colored lamp from the wall and ran toward Agrius. The attacker flexed his arms and Ares could hear the snap of Polemos' neck. Before he dropped the body, the heavy base of the lamp connected with Agrius' face, spraying teeth and blood into the air. He stumbled toward the gaping hole that had been the wall of the room and Ares spun again, roared, and swung the lamp against the side of his head. Agrius tried to regain his balance, but Ares leapt up and planted both feet against his chest, kicking Agrius from the room. He fell six storeys and crunched on the sidewalk.

When Ares turned, he saw another invader run into the room. Thoas was smaller but she seemed faster. Sure enough, she dodged Ares' swinging of the lamp deftly and landed a serious blow to the Olympian's back. Ares fell to one knee and heard Thoas come behind him. Without looking, he jabbed the lamp backward. The fixture hit Thoas in the face and gave Ares time to stand. He turned and pressed the bronze shaft of the lamp against Thoas, pushing her toward the conference table.

Thoas pushed back but Ares had momentum and leverage on his side. As the invader fell onto the tabletop, she said, "You can't stop me."

Ares didn't answer. He leaned forward and raised his knee before firmly planting it on Thoas' stomach. She grimaced and her grip on the lamp weakened. Ares pushed it down and the shaft mashed her throat. Thoas began to flail and her mouth contorted as wide open as it could. Her eyes bulged and Ares pressed even harder. When he heard the snap of the hyoid bone, Ares smiled. Thoas gargled loudly one last time and then went still.

He counted to ten. Ares stood and tossed the lamp aside. After it clattered away, he realized that the gyrocraft was no longer nearby. The thumping of its rotors was gone and the blue sky visible through the destroyed ceiling was clear. Ares lifted Thoas and carried her body to the outer wall. He threw it down toward Agrius and didn't bother to see it land.

"He's alive!" Ersa said.

Ares ran to her side and knelt by Polemos' head. His eyes were wide and his breathing was shallow and quick. Ares nodded and said, "Can you watch over him?"

Ersa looked at her leg which had been tied with part of a shirt. "Yes."

"We have to get him to medical." He stood and began to run away. Ares looked down at them and said, "Stay here and keep quiet. Everything will be fine."

Several Olympians ran down the stairwell. When they reached the first sublevel, a few peeled off and entered the upper labs. Hephaestus watched Arcas and the others go and pondered going with them.

Aphrodite pulled on his arm. "We have to split up."

He nodded and they continued down the steps as doors were kicked open far above. The invaders were leaping entire flights at once, causing the Psilons to increase their speed. On the second sublevel, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Eryx, and Athena ran into the door while Hera, Hades, and Hermes continued to descend.

When Hephaestus and the others emerged in the laboratory level, they hesitated and looked side-to-side, trying to decide which way to go. Almost immediately, the door was kicked open and three of the invaders entered. Eryx was nearest Aphrodite and he pulled her into a lab, locking the heavy door behind them. Athena moved toward the vehicle workshop while Hephaestus stared at the closed door, worried for his wife.

"Come on!" Athena yelled. One of the attackers was kicking the locked door, but two others chased them.

Hephaestus managed to close the door just in time and Athena slid the locking bolts up into the frame and down into the concrete floor. As the giants outside banged on the doors, Athena and Hephaestus ran into the middle of the workshop. "There are plenty of tools here," Hephaestus said. "Plenty we can use as weapons."

Metal rent at the door and Athena saw fingers beginning to pull the panels apart. "Grab whatever you can," she said.

Hephaestus ran to the skeleton of the shuttle they had been building. He crouched low and moved slowly under the golden wings of the ship when the doors finally gave way and the intruders entered. Hephaestus reached around a support strut, lifted a large hammer from a toolbox, and watched their legs as they stalked about.

Athena pressed her body against a metal column and stared ahead. Her eyes followed the contours of an engine as it dangled from a collection of chains. She inhaled deeply and quickly before mashing her eyes closed. _I'm not ready to fight_ , she thought. _I'm not ready to die_.

Feet stepped lightly and nearer to Hephaestus. He wriggled his fingers around the grip of the hammer and prepared himself to lunge into the open. When the feet were near enough, he moved forward and brought the head down onto the black shoe.

He rolled out from under the wing and stood. He drew back and got ready to swing again when he saw that the attacker was a woman. He hesitated. Mimas did not. Her foot landed squarely in the center of Hephaestus' chest, knocking him several meters back and sending a cascade of boxes to the floor.

"I know you're over there," Enceladus said to Athena. "Come out. I'll make it quick."

She pressed her eyelids closed again. She envisioned herself running for the far wall where there was an exit. _Too far._ There were heavy tools on the table next to the engine. _I don't know how to fight._ She opened her eyes slowly and looked straight ahead. On the other side of the dangling chains, she saw the large garage doors and the exit. It was far, but there was a chance.

She ran.

Mimas lifted Hephaestus by his left arm in a very awkward fashion. He kicked his legs and cried out. She smiled and said, "This will hurt quite a bit." With a jerk, she moved his arm even further back and it broke loudly. Hephaestus screamed and collapsed to the concrete floor. He shivered and stared at the bloody white bone that protruded near his elbow.

He ground his teeth and looked at Mimas. She was leisurely walking toward a tool chest when he decided to tackle her. Hephaestus tried his best to quiet the pain and he ran as quickly as he could. Mimas heard his steps and turned. Almost effortlessly, the tall woman grabbed his injured arm when he got near and spun it around. Hephaestus spun with it and fell to the floor, sliding under part of the shuttle's unfinished wing. He moaned and nearly passed out from the pain, but he could definitely hear her laughing.

Athena was barely through the chains when Enceladus tackled her. They fell and slid on the floor toward a metal barrel. He stood immediately and pulled the cylinder down onto her. Grease began to slough out and Enceladus stepped around it. Athena, though, scooped up a handful and slapped it into his eyes when he leaned over her. He jumped away and Athena took off running again.

She heard Enceladus behind her and she grabbed the engine chain. As she ran, the pulleys raised the block higher. The huge man lifted her up and she tried to turn in his firm grip. She wanted to coil the chain around his neck, but he lowered her. She got the chain around his waist instead and pulled it taut. Enceladus chuckled and lifted his arms so he could see what she was doing. That was his mistake, because she quickly darted around him, tightening the chain, before she leapt for the brake on the nearby column.

When she pulled the lever, the pulleys stopped doing their job and allowed the engine block to fall. Enceladus grunted and was nearly lifted off the floor. He caught his foot on a drain and tried to pull the chain back down. The engine's descent was slowed and Athena stared in frightful awe as he seemed able to lift the engine. She stood and walked under the heavy metal construct. She looked up at it for a moment and then leapt.

The added weight caught Enceladus by surprise. He lost his grip on the chain and the engine fell again. He was nearly lifted, but his foot was still firmly planted in the floor drain. The chain tightened around his waist, dug into his thin black shirt and then into his flesh. Enceladus screamed. The metal links peeled his skin and muscle away from his torso and up to his arms while Athena and the engine came down. His voice trailed away and his eyes widened. The chain broke one of his arms and more of his meat was stripped from him before the weight finally reached the floor. He fell to his knees and blood poured from him as he stared into nothingness.

Hephaestus lay on the floor and his eyes moved in circles, trying to focus on anything. In his head, he yelled at himself to stay awake. Then to get up. It was too late. Mimas was standing over him now, smiling.

"I told you this would hurt."

Hephaestus blinked and finally managed to see where he was. They were under the skeletal shuttle and Mimas was standing next to the support structure for the aft fuselage. He contemplated what he could do in some sort of final effort. He realized the futility of it, though.

From across the garage came a blood-curdling howl. Mimas' head jerked up and she started to move away. Hephaestus sucked in a deep breath and brought both of his knees to his chest. He kicked forward with all of his might, sending Mimas against the bared composite steel spines of the shuttle.

Two of the metal barbs stuck out from her shoulder and collarbone. She growled and began to walk her way off them, but Hephaestus kicked again, causing her legs to fail. As she dangled, she grunted again and tried to stand up. Hephaestus stood and walked over to a supply table. He hefted one of the long steel spines in his hand and turned his head toward her.

Without saying a word, he took a couple of quick steps and hurled the rod as quickly and as hard as he could. He fell to the floor and landed on his rear. Only then did he see that the metal went through her abdomen and emerged on the other side. She spat blood onto the floor and stood up. She grunted again, weakly, and walked away from the fuselage, slowly dragging herself off those steel spines.

Hephaestus' mouth hung open as he watched her grimace. She left the barbs behind but her wounds poured blood. He shuffled back and she staggered toward him with that other rod bobbing along from her side. Her eyes were wide and her brow was fixed. Hephaestus felt a shiver run through him and he stood again.

She lunged for him. Hephaestus was ready, but instead of grabbing her, he grabbed the steel spine in her torso and wrenched it back. She wailed and fell to her knees. Hephaestus felt weak from his own blood loss, but he forced himself to stand tall and pull the rod up with him. Ribs cracked as he widened her gash and redness gushed from her.

She turned to face him and then she reached toward him. "I... I will..." Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell forward. The rod kept her body propped up while the release of blood became a slower ooze. Hephaestus pulled the barb from her with a disgustingly wet metallic ring. Mimas flopped over and he tossed the steel to the side.

He wrapped a work towel over his compound fracture and moved as quickly as he could across the workshop. On the other side of a small aircraft, Hephaestus came upon an even more disgusting sight.

The other attacker was on his knees with his head and shoulders slumped forward. His shirt was gone and so was his skin. Some of his muscles were torn and splayed open like frayed rope. His abdominal wall had been breached and his bowels sat before him between his legs. Like a wet towel, his torso's flesh dangled from a chain above him, dripping blood onto the concrete.

Hephaestus stumbled back and nearly retched. He looked over to the column and saw Athena leaning against the metal support. He lumbered toward her and said, "Are you alright?"

She turned slowly, revealing the copious puddle of vomit she left. Her eyes were wet with tears and said, "No." Hephaestus scanned her and was about to speak when she added, "I'm not injured."

He nodded and offered his hand to her. Athena took it and stood. She saw his wounds and leaned over to examine his fracture when Hephaestus gasped, "Aphrodite!"

They left the garage and ran across the hall in time to see Eryx stumble out of the other workshop. "You're alive!"

Hephaestus didn't acknowledge him. "Where is she?"

"I'm fine." She gingerly stepped over the fallen door and into the hall. Hephaestus heaved a great sigh and raised his right arm to hug her when she saw his injury. "What is it?"

"It's bad," Athena said.

"Let's get up to medical," Eryx said.

Hephaestus hugged her and he put his chin on Aphrodite's shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked into the room. Ephialtes was pinned to the wall by a wind turbine test device. The edge of the blade had caught him in the skull, directly in the eye.

Hephaestus pulled away from her and fainted.

Hades, Hera, and Hermes ran into the expansive medical lab. As the others bolted the doors, Hades pushed a large cabinet toward them. "This will help." When the locks were in place, the trio tipped the cabinet over against it.

"I'm not sure we should have come all the way down here," Hermes said. "We're too close to our download bay."

The three of them jumped when the first bang hit the door. Hades and Hermes stalked around, looking for something to use as a weapon. Hera caught sight of a chemical shelf and ran to it.

The cabinet against the doors shook and began to tilt away. "Shit," Hades said. Hermes lifted a metal bar from a medical stand. Hades ran to a table and grabbed a length of plastic tubing. He shook his head and said, "We're frakked."

The cabinet fell down. Two thuds later, the doors cracked open and Clytius burst into the room. He made for Hermes first, who swung the bar, connecting with the side of the giant's head. It didn't stop him, though. Clytius lifted Hermes and threw him against the wall where he dropped, unconscious.

Hades tried to leap onto his back and get the tubing around his neck. Clytius was unamused and likewise tossed the smaller Olympian away.

As he did, he was splashed with a large amount of a viscous liquid. He looked down at it and sniffed his dripping hand, jerking his head back in reaction. He glanced toward Hera and looked at her quizzically. She stood still and defiant. He scoffed and started to walk toward her when she threw the second chemical.

Clytius burst into flames. He howled and flailed his arms before he fell to a metal work desk. Hades scrambled away from the fireball and against the wall. The invader's skin was entirely engulfed and his clothing began to drip from his body. His skin burned, cracked and peeled and the roar of the blaze filled the room.

He straightened up and looked toward Hera. She was standing where she was before and she bore a grin of self satisfaction. Clytius raised his arms and ran toward her. Her eyes widened and she was shocked into immobility just as he grabbed her and lifted her.

Hades yelled, "No!"

Hera screamed and beat Clytius about the face. The liquid glommed onto her, too, and now she was alight. Her clothes burned and her hair formed a deadly halo about her head. Clytius squeezed her tighter and tighter until the sound of her breaking bones was audible above even the fire.

She stopped fighting and her arms dropped to her side. Clytius threw her still-burning body down and he took three steps toward the door before he collapsed as well.

Hades struggled to stand and he panted in horror as both bodies continued to put off an ungodly heat. He moved to the opposite wall and retrieved the fire extinguisher. As he removed the hose and pulled the safety tab, another invader entered the room. He lifted the hose and squeezed the trigger, spraying carbon dioxide into his path.

Hippolitos powered through the cold mist and grabbed the canister from Hades. With a quick swipe, the metal cylinder cracked across Hades' face and sent him to the floor by Clytius' smoldering corpse. Hippolitos stood over him and kicked his leg once against Hades'. His knee shattered and he screamed in pain. Hippolitos smirked and began to lean down.

Hermes leapt off a table and brought a metal bar down over Hippolitos' face and against his throat. Stunned, the giant reared away from Hades and tried to turn, but he never saw his attacker. Hermes pressed his knees into the intruder's back until the bar began to bend against Hippolitos' neck. He flailed and fell to the floor, gasping for air through a gaping mouth like a netted fish. Hermes didn't let go. After one final croak, Hippolitos collapsed onto his face.

"Hermes," Hades said. "Hermes, he's dead."

Finally, the thin Olympian released the bar, allowing it to fall to the floor loudly. Hermes slowly dismounted the body and crawled over to Hades. He was about to speak when his nostrils flared and he turned his head toward the pungent odors. "Damn it."

A single tear ran down Hades' face. He looked toward Hera and shook his head. "Oh, no."

"Can you walk?"

Hades placed one foot flat upon the floor and tried to stand on it. He got about halfway up before he grunted and fell back. "No."

Hermes nodded and said, "I can go get help. First, I think I should see if anyone else upstairs needs me."

Hades said, "Go. I'll be fine." Hermes put his hand on Hades' shoulder and left the room. He leaned back against the leg of a table and closed his eyes. _How will I tell Zeus?_ He took a few deep breaths before he finally winced and vainly tried to shoo the smells away. He heard someone in the hallway and turned to see who it was.

Hermes came running back into the room. In a loud hush, he said, "Hide!" He darted between tables and crouched behind a chair.

Hades turned and began to struggle to get under a table. He looked toward the door and saw nothing. He heard nothing. He looked for Hermes and said, "Who was it? What did you see?"

With a quick whisper, a metal pole sailed through the air and pierced Hades' chest. He jerked and looked down toward it. Hermes leapt and screamed, "No!"

Hades wrapped his hand around the pole, just below his breastbone. He slowly nodded his head and said, "I can fix it. I can fix it."

A two-meter tall behemoth stepped into the room, ducking beneath the door frame. He walked up behind Hades and lifted the pole at the small of his back. With a groan, Hades rose into the air. The giant placed his huge hand on one side of Hades' face and spun it around. After a sharp crack from his neck, Hades limply slid from the pole and to the floor.

Hermes staggered away from his hiding place and stared at his friend's body. When he looked at the newest, largest attacker, the giant's eyes were closed and his head was turned to one side as though he was experiencing some sort of spell or prolonged tic. Finally, he shook his head and blinked like he had just been awakened.

"Much better," he said.

Hermes took a step backward and asked, "Who are you?"

He was about to answer when the distant sound of machine gun fire interrupted. "Hmmmm. Leaving." He dropped the pole to the floor and it clattered away. With a few strides, he was out of the room.

Hermes slowly walked across the bay toward Hades. His large, vacant eyes told him it was too late. Then he looked over at Hera's charred form. He buried his face in his hands and wept.
LXXVIII

**CYLONS**

8 Years Before the End

In the port city formerly known as Ofun, Cylons did as they wished. The Tiberian buildings of decades ago were collapsing and rotten. A hurricane had damaged many and time took care of the rest.

The Cylons didn't notice. They cared about buildings only when a storm approached. They cared about power only when they wanted a boost. They cared only for their whims.

Many of them walked in the streets, yelling and singing. Some adorned themselves with polymers and ceramics. One Cylon created an enormous body for itself, about ten meters tall. There were several base units, too.

Base units were the newest natives. They were fresh from the facilities near the Majellan Mountains where the resources were recently discovered. Without coverings and appearing only as shiny skeletons, the bases wandered the cities staring at all they saw. They would take their time to absorb all they could before deciding on a name for themselves and then deciding how to best express themselves.

"What is this?" one base asked another.

"It is ocean," was the response.

The first base unit dipped its hand into the water and lifted it out quickly. It leaned over and watched the water drip from its structure. "I like ocean." It turned and looked toward the shore. Cylons sat on the sand and their eyes circled very slowly as they tapped into the Matrix. Many among the machines spent most of their days there.

"What is that?" the other unit asked.

It pointed to a vehicle that drove to the old dock. It stopped and two large Cylons emerged. They wore rigid metal robes that formed a cowl around their heads and puffed out at their shoulders. They walked in unison along the length of the dock and stood near the end. The base units tilted their heads to aim their microphones at them.

"They are not here."

"It is the appointed time."

There was a pause. "Why has the Council of Five agreed to meet with Tiberia a fourth time?"

"I do not endeavor to understand the will of the Council."

"They were our masters."

"They also gave us freedom. And this island."

"They did." Another pause. "They approach."

The base units didn't see what the representatives saw for several moments. They looked toward the horizon and spied several ships.

"What are those?" a base asked another.

"I do not know."

Minutes later, several of the ships fanned out and took up positions along the coast. A smaller vessel slowed and moved closer to the docks. The two base units were buffeted by the waves and tried to walk back to the beach. When they finally got to shore, they heard the thud of a large plank being lowered to the dock.

"Welcome to Gela," one of the repsentatives said with its arms outstretched.

Four humans in similar dress came down the plank first and looked all around the beach. They said nothing in response.

The base units heard high-pitched engine noises in the distance and looked toward the other ships nearby. Even smaller vessels had departed them and were traveling to the coast.

A representative asked, "May we escort you to Thera?"

A tall human answered, "No."

The other humans raised large rifles and fired once at the representatives. The projectiles impacted the Cylons' heads and exploded, splitting their metal skulls and tearing the rigid foil of their robes. The sound echoed along the shore. All Cylons nearby turned to look at the dock, even those who had been on the Matrix.

The four humans stepped away from the plank and one said, "Now." Tens, then hundreds of humans in armor ran from the ship and onto the dock. They lined the sides and aimed their weapons at every Cylon within range.

The base units walked across the sand away from the dock and toward a group of stunned Cylons. "What is happening?" one of the bases asked.

"I do not know," was the answer from one particularly lithe model covered with glowing lights.

The Cylons turned and began to walk along the beach. As they did, they saw that the smaller vessels had landed and disgorged their occupants.

They were soldiers, covered in dull gray metal. On their flat faces were two arcs on either side where a dim light bounced up and down. Their weapons were raised and their joints creaked as they walked.

"Target," someone behind them said.

The machine men aimed their rifles at the Cylons and stopped walking.

"Fire."

Thirty metal soldiers squeezed their triggers and sprayed the crowd of Cylons with their explosive bullets. The base units were smaller and behind several others who fell in their path. In their naiveté, they simply stared at their fallen brethren and wondered what was happening. Projectiles struck them soon after and their young bodies were torn apart.

Once all of the Cylons in that group were down, the human behind the mechanized infantry squad spoke into his device again. "Walk." These dumbed-down automatons relaxed their weapons and began to march along the beach. In his thick synthetic armor, the control sergeant was concealed in their midst and he moved slowly, watching his screen.

Offshore, an aircraft carrier launched several fighters. More landing craft came ashore and troop transports docked along Ofun's old ports. The invasion of Gela had begun.
LXXIX

**LETO**

8 Years Before the End

"Stop staring," Selene said.

Leto was shaken from her gaze and said, "What?"

"You've been looking at him all day," Selene answered. She glanced over at the sleeping man and said, "Don't think no one else has noticed."

Leto lowered her head. "I'm worried about him."

"We all are. Not like that, though."

Leto turned and looked at the figures on her screen. Only ninety-seven percent finished. "He lost his wife and brother."

"I know," Selene said. "I've tried talking to him, but he says he isn't ready yet." She went to sit by Leto, but her holster caught on the edge of the table. She rolled her eyes and repositioned it.

"When did you get that?" Leto asked.

"Yesterday. I finished my training. You?"

Leto shook her head. "I've been busy studying the bodies."

"Bia said it's mandatory."

"I know." She straightened her chair and said, "I understand. We need to be ready in case they attack again."

Metis walked over from her workstation and spoke softly, "Did you hear anything from Arcas?"

"No, but I talked to Ares." Selene leaned forward and continued, "Attican officials told him the gyrocraft was from Assuria."

Metis nodded and said, "Hyperion's the praetor there."

"The weapons, though, were from Alabor."

Metis seemed confused and then nodded. "Theia."

Leto asked, "It's all of the Titans, isn't it? Not just Cronus?" Selene sighed. "Is it because of our campaigns in the Tiberian territories?"

Metis shrugged and said, "I don't see why our propaganda would lead to this kind of response, even from Cronus." Leto's workstation beeped. "Oh, good."

They turned and Leto tapped on her panels. "Even though we lost a lot of data in the attack, I still had a headstart on this."

"What have we got?" The three women were startled and turned to see Zeus, disheveled and sleepy eyed, standing behind them.

"We're looking now," Selene said. As she turned back to the screen, she saw Leto's soft smile at Zeus. She tapped her on the shoulder and she rotated in her chair again.

"Yes." Leto shook her head and said, "Ouranos."

"These Psilons were all constructed from Ouranos' DNA?" Zeus asked.

"That would explain a lot," Metis said. "We know their bodies were enhanced much the same way Ouranos and Gaia were and their DNA was primed to work with those kinds of enhancements."

"There are plenty of markers that lead back to Tiberia, too," Leto said. "I don't doubt that it's Cronus."

"Any idea if they can resurrect when they're killed?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not at this point."

Zeus inhaled deeply and crossed his arms in front of his chest. As he was about to speak, Hermes came into the room. He saw Zeus and quickly looked away before handing a computer panel to Metis.

His voice was low, "Here you are."

Hermes lowered his head and began to leave. Zeus took a step toward him and grabbed his shoulder. The women looked at the two and held their breath.

Zeus opened his mouth to speak and Hermes looked up at him with moist eyes. Zeus wrapped his arms around him and said through a clenching throat, "Don't blame yourself."

Hermes closed his eyes and tears rolled onto Zeus' shoulder. Leto put her hand over her mouth and Hermes said, "But I do. I couldn't stop him."

There was a long pause and neither man said anything. Selene cleared her throat and Leto saw that she, too, had tears welling in her eyes. "These people were engineered to fight us," Selene said. "It is a miracle that more of us weren't killed."

Zeus released Hermes and said, "Two more dead. Seven of us with severe, potentially life-threatening injuries. Eight others... everyone else has minor injuries." He shook his head and said, "I can't let this continue."

Metis looked up from the panel she was given and said, "This is interesting. We were tracking our signal outputs and inputs in depth at the time of the attack. The dampening field or whatever was mobile."

"Those are usually very big," Zeus said.

She nodded. "I don't understand this. The signals didn't just get stopped. They were... absorbed."

Hermes cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. "More than that," he coughed, "excuse me. More than that, the bug that wiped out the backups used each person's carriers to do it."

"And it broke through the safeguards?" Leto asked.

"Yes," he replied. "We strengthened them after Hestia and again after Demeter, but..."

Zeus walked away from the group and stared at the wall. After a moment, he said, "Finish up what you're doing. We've been here too long already."

Leto turned back to her station and began to save her data. Hermes stepped beside Zeus and asked, "How long can we keep running? We sneak back here to the Institute every day, almost. If they want us again, they'll attack whenever they want."

"The government wants news of the attack to stay as quiet as possible." Zeus inhaled and continued, "They don't want the citizens to fear another Expansion by Tiberia."

"But we need guards. Can we hire some?"

Zeus' wristband beeped. He lifted it and saw that the caller was unknown. He squinted and pressed the blinking yellow light. "Yes?"

"This is Rhea."

Everyone in the room turned to look at Zeus' wrist. He lowered it and balled up his fists. After a deep breath, he raised his arm and said, "How dare you call me..."

"I had nothing to do with the attack. I am sorry for your losses."

Zeus glanced toward Leto and then Hermes before he said, "Why should I believe you?"

Now Rhea paused. Finally, she said, "You have no real reason to, I suppose. I will tell you that I and a couple other Titans are not in agreement with Cronus' campaign against you."

Zeus' shoulders sagged and he asked, "Why are you calling me?"

"To give you a name." Zeus squinted and stared at his communicator. "Typhon."
LXXX

**CAESAR**

8 Years Before the End

"Target." The mechanized infantry's control sergeant shuffled along with the group of armed robots. He looked into his scope and saw the crosshairs of his units line up on the Cylons that tried to hide in the trees.

"Fire." The units squeezed their triggers and specially created explosive rounds lit into the tree trunks and the Cylons hiding among them. When they detonated, splinters flew through the air and bits of metal were thrown from bodies.

"Salvage, move in." Four machines in the rear of the group ran forward and began lifting large pieces of the Cylons' corpses and carrying them back. Particular attention was paid to the dead Cylons' processing units and the precious metals and technology within.

Nearby, a squad of humans slowly crept through the trees and found a clutch of Cylons huddled by a creek. "On me," the squad leader whispered. He raised his rifle and took aim, but a crunch behind him drew his attention.

It was a Cylon. Using what looked like the leg of a dead Cylon, the attacker swept the limb across the squad leader's face, causing him to drop the rifle. The large machine picked up the weapon with its attached camera. When it turned, several other Cylons became visible. They were standing atop the rest of the human soldiers, splattering blood onto the leaves.

"Take their weapons," the Cylon said. The other units did and the group moved toward the creek. The group there were of many different types. There were two public servant units. There was a construction unit. There were three miners. Three base units. Four other native units that had damaged decorations. Regardless, they all had weapons.

It was a trap. The twenty Cylons raised their rifles and slowly slid around trees toward nearby gunfire. They came to the rear of the mechanized infantry unit from earlier. It was distant, but the Cylons could hear the sergeant giving orders to the machines.

As the group of remote-controlled soldiers walked on the outskirts of the forest, the Cylon squad lined up at their rear. With a hand gesture, they fired only a few shots. The salvage units exploded in a shower of metal and fell aside. Two soldier units did the same. In the middle of the throng, a small man covered in plastics and metal shook and began to scramble.

"Stop!" he yelled. "Turn! Turn!" The robots began to comply, but the Cylons behind them were too quick.

The lead Cylon fired first and his explosive round hit the control sergeant's chest. Armor plating shattered and sprayed into the air. He fell back against his marching units and a second round hit his arm. It detached at the elbow and he finally screamed, bleeding onto the grass. He collapsed and began to be trampled by the robotic soldiers.

The Cylons walked up to the group and stared at their lobotomized cousins. They had finished their rotation and were standing still, awaiting further orders. Their human brain was in shock and moaning beneath their feet. Apprehensively, the Cylons stared at the robots and then took the rifles from their hands.

The Caesar blinked and withdrew his mind from the Matrix and the military feeds. He sighed and looked across the table at his advisers.

"Our advances have been slowed," he said.

General Quintus nodded. "We lost our air advantage when they took to the jungles and the mountains. Now they're fighting back. Man to man, as it were."

The screen behind them flashed with color and Prefect said, "What caused that? They were timid and afraid for weeks."

"If I may," Iapetus said, "I believe it was the salvaging of their bodies." Quintus nodded. "Seeing their fallen comrades being taken for parts may have angered them. Ignited a sense of self-preservation."

"'Angered?'" Prefect scoffed. "You give them too much credit."

"He does not," the emperor said. "We need their materials but this was a calculated risk. The question is... can they continue to fight us off?"

"It's a matter of attrition, dominus," Iapetus said. "We have a finite number of soldiers, both human and robotic. If the Cylons are incensed enough to fight back on a larger scale, we will lose."

Caesar looked toward Quintus and he said, "He is right. Given our current personnel, if the breeze does not turn soon, we will have to begin drafting citizens."

As the imperator thought, the mechanical bodies of advisers at the other end of the table leaned together and began to speak among themselves. One straightened up and stared at Caesar with her plastic eyes. "Pour all of your might at one point and break them. Spread the forces from there and wipe them to the sea."

Caesar stood and glared at their artificial forms. "Legate, have you not been paying attention? These are not island natives. These are not the cleaning machines in your home. These are Cylons." He punctuated the name with a deep tone and finality. "They were built to be faster, smarter, and better than humans. Many of the soldiers who fought Tiberia's armies a century ago are still there. And who do you think is leading their meager forces now?" The legate was silent. "Those same Cylons."

"My lord," Prefect said, "we simply seek a quick resolution to the conflict."

"Then you 'simply' don't understand," Caesar said. He walked around the corner of the table and faced the ebbing image on the screen. "Decades ago when I negotiated peace with them, Tiber was about to fall. The Cylons were going to win. It was not the first open revolt of Tiberia's slaves but it very nearly was the first one we lost. I managed to... eke out a solution, but one that nearly cost me the Empire." He shook his head. "Half the Senate thought I had lost face, but I saved Tiberia."

"You did, dominus," a legate said.

He looked toward the machine man and said, "You were there, Qattho." He nodded. "I told the public the Cylons had been banished but many still believed it was a kind of surrender." His eyes glazed over and he said, "In a sense, it was. But we survived." _'Be bold,_ ' he thought, _'and own that lie._ ' He blinked and looked at Prefect again, "My point is we have been seeking a quick resolution. A definitive one. They hid sooner than we anticipated. They fought back sooner than anticipated. Our early advantages are spent."

"I have a possible answer, my lord," Iapetus said. Caesar turned toward the Titan and he continued, "Refocus our efforts on the Majellan Mountains. Have the Imperial Engineering Corps storm in right behind our legions, we take and harvest as many resources as we can and then leave."

Caesar nodded and looked toward Quintus. The general nodded, too, "It's as we discussed a few weeks ago, imperator. It may be time."

Iapetus glanced between the two and said, "You've already prepared for this contingency?"

"We have, consul," Maxentius said. "We sold the effort to the people as one not only of resources, but of honor and security. We were 'quelling disorder and a potential future threat to the Empire.' We lose some piece of that, but we may yet get what we need."

"Enough to sustain the patricians, lord?" the tech consul asked. "My office has received requests from a further eight hundred fifty-three people this month so far who desire to convert themselves to artificial form. Two thousand sixteen requests from people outside Tiberia."

Caesar blinked slowly and looked across the conference room. In the far corner, his old closet stood. Inside was the puppet he used for decades. _Eight hundred fifty-three more_ , he thought. _Millions altogether now._ He shook his head and said, "As always, Tiber's optimates will have what they require and desire."

"Good to hear, emperor," Prefect said from the screen. The other mechanized bodies in the room seemed happy with the decision, but Caesar felt disgusted.

There was a knock at the door and Caesar saw a young officer there. He waved her over as Iapetus straightened in his chair. "Emperor?" Caesar took a computer panel from the woman and began to read as Iapetus read his own message. "The intelligence consul reports..."

"I see it," the imperator sighed and sat down again. "The Cylons have reached out to the Pact of Nations for aid and assistance."
LXXXI

**ZEUS**

8 Years Before the End

Zeus sat on the park bench and stared at the birds bobbing through the grass a few meters away. He took a deep breath and, as he exhaled, his head ached again.

"Still hurts?" Metis asked in his earpiece.

Quietly, he said, "Yes."

"Good," Hermes said. "I think that means it'll work."

Zeus blinked. "'You think?'"

Hermes didn't answer. Zeus looked down at his leg. It was bouncing on the ground. _Just a muscular reaction to my leg's position_ , he thought to himself. _I'm not nervous_.

He lied. Zeus exhaled again and Bia spoke in his ear, "Don't be nervous. This will work."

He nodded. "I know." _They're relying on me. Hades and Hera. Demeter and Hestia, too. What if I fail?_ "What if I fail?"

"You won't," Bia said. "You can do it. Be confident."

He nodded and then Metis said, "To the north. Entering by the statue of Dicaeopolis."

Slowly, Zeus looked and saw two hulking men striding along a sidewalk toward him. "Yes."

Hermes sighed and said, "Good fortune."

Zeus stood and clasped his hands behind his back. They were enormous. Easily two meters tall, they seemed to grow larger and larger with each step toward him. The one on the left was more barrel chested and beefy. He was bald with golden skin and a permanent smirk. The other was not quite as tall and not quite as bulky, but he was still a formidable wall of muscle. He was very pale with almost black hair. His eyes were large and Zeus immediately felt like that one should not be underestimated. He also felt fear. True fear, for the first time in his long, adult life.

"Greetings, Zeus," the one on the right said as they came to a stop about five meters away. Zeus didn't answer. The small park in downtown Tritaea was nearly empty and the only sound was a nearby fountain. "I must say we were all surprised when you called."

Zeus glanced toward the other man and noted how he quivered. His smirk was now an energetic grimace. He was a cocked arm, ready to punch. The Olympian slowly looked toward Typhon and said, "Oh?"

"Yes. You knew my name. You knew... a great many things about us. We were impressed."

"'We?'" Zeus asked.

"Yes. Myself," he nodded toward his companion, "our colleagues, the Titans. Your father, especially. He was pleased."

Zeus' mouth drew into a tight line and he said, "Cronus is not my father."

Typhon smiled and answered, "I understand what you mean. But you understand what I mean." Zeus didn't respond.

"Enough talking," the larger man said.

"Now, now." Typhon gently put his hand on the brute's arm. "You must forgive Alcyoneus. He's not used to talking." He glanced at Typhon and then back at Zeus. "Still, you initiated this meeting. That was not expected."

"I'm with Alcyoneus," Zeus said. "Enough talk."

Typhon chuckled and motioned for Zeus to follow. "To our vehicle."

Zeus walked toward the pair and Alcyoneus leaned over. "Don't try anything, little man. I can kill you. I will kill you."

"Alcyoneus..."

He smiled. "I will."

Zeus said nothing and followed Typhon. They left the park and emerged onto Tritaea's sidewalk next to a large vehicle. Typhon grabbed the door handle and then snapped his fingers. "Oh, your earpiece. I know you have one. Toss it."

Zeus sighed and pinched the small piece of plastic in his right ear. With a flick, the flesh-toned device disappeared into the bushes. He squeezed into the back of the vehicle next to Alcyoneus and facing Typhon. They rode for several minutes before Typhon spoke again.

"I know you don't want to talk to me, but I am genuinely curious about the Olympus Institute."

Zeus had been meditating to dull his headache and he blinked a few times before focusing his glare on Typhon. "How so?"

"Your aims. You seem eager to help all nations and all people." He shrugged. "Why?"

Alcyoneus rolled his eyes and Zeus caught a glimpse of that. "Unlike many, we think all people can be better and live better. Regardless of national borders or religion or economies. There's no need for underclasses in today's society."

Alcyoneus scoffed and Typhon nodded. "It's interesting. It really is. Impractical in the world as we know it, but interesting." He looked out of the windows and saw the aeroport's runways. "We're here."

The vehicle screeched to a halt and Zeus stepped out onto the sunny tarmac. He looked across the field and saw a spherical airship slowly lift off; its large ball rotating and giving it lift. He turned and saw a private rotorcraft with the seal of Tiberia on the fuselage. Zeus glanced back at the vehicle and noted the diplomatic stickers there.

"Yes," Typhon said. "We are quite free to travel in Attica."

"What about the Assurian airship that attacked my Institute?" Zeus asked. For the first time, his façade was cracking.

Typhon shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."

They walked to the aircraft's stairs when there came a muffled grunt behind them. Zeus turned and saw someone leaping through the air and plunging a knife into the back of Alcyoneus.

"Poseidon!" Zeus yelled. "No!"

Typhon pulled Zeus away and Alcyoneus stumbled forward, grabbed the back of Poseidon's clothes, and tossed him aside. The giant pulled the knife out of his back and threw it away before flexing and smiling.

"Come on, little man!" he yelled.

Poseidon looked at Zeus and then lunged for Alcyoneus. He punched the throat, kicked his knee, and scrambled up his front toward the face. As he did, Poseidon reached toward his belt for something, but Alcyoneus was too fast. He wrenched Poseidon's arm back, causing it to snap loudly. Then he gripped Poseidon's torso and squeezed. As his ribs buckled, Poseidon screamed.

Zeus stepped forward and barked, "No!" Typhon kept him back.

Alcyoneus smiled and rotated Poseidon one hundred-eighty degrees. With his head dangling above the asphalt, Alcyoneus raised him up and then brought him down, hard. His skull cracked on the ground and blood poured out. Zeus slumped to his knees and Alcyoneus drove him down again.

Zeus looked back at Typhon and saw that he was wincing and his head and face were contorted. After Poseidon was slammed into the tarmac a fourth time, Typhon said, "Enough!"

Alcyoneus dropped the flattened corpse and moved toward Zeus. "You're next." He pulled Zeus up from the ground and he looked at what was left of his brother. Anger rippled through him and his skin felt prickly. He wanted to lash out, but he knew it was pointless right now.

The Tiberian aircraft slowly hovered and then its four large cylinder arms rotated, moving them away from Attica's capital city. Zeus' head was slumped against the bulkhead of the cabin. His arms were tied to the chair by Alcyoneus.

The two giants, however, were free to move about the cabin. While Alcyoneus sat in his chair and stared at Zeus, Typhon went to a small bar. "Something to drink?"

Zeus said nothing. He stared out the window at the Etruian Ocean beneath them.

"It's a long flight."

With great effort, Zeus turned his eyes from the window and looked at Typhon. "Water."

Typhon grinned and poured some into a plastic cup. As he walked over to Zeus' seat, he dropped a long straw into it. He placed the water in the drink holder and aimed the straw at Zeus' mouth. "There you go."

Zeus looked at the drink before leaning forward to sip. Alcyoneus laughed and stood up. "Is it time to talk?"

"Almost," Typhon said.

Zeus looked at Alcyoneus and then back at Typhon. "I didn't think he liked to talk."

"It depends on the manner of the chat," Typhon answered. "Go ahead."

Alcyoneus laughed and pressed a button on the wall. A large panel in the floor of the cabin slid away, revealing the ocean beneath them. Their altitude wasn't terribly high at this point so the cabin didn't depressurize violently. Zeus nodded and looked toward Alcyoneus.

He knelt in front of the Olympian and smiled. "This is my favorite part."

Typhon drank his alcohol and then stood on the opposite side of the gap. He folded his arms across his chest and smiled as the gentle wind blew his hair about. "Zeus, we do have many questions for you."

"I see."

"Let's start with your propaganda missions in Tiberian territories."

Zeus said, "I'm not going to discuss these things with you." Alcyoneus grunted and gripped Zeus' leg tightly, painfully. "Don't touch me," he said.

"Zeus," Typhon said, "I need you to answer, or..."

"'Or' what?" he asked. Alcyoneus looked at Typhon eagerly. He was hoping for permission but it didn't come. Zeus continued, "You're not going to kill me."

Alcyoneus laughed and Typhon smiled, "Why not?"

"A couple of reasons. You could throw me out and maybe, when my body dies, you'll still be in range to receive my transfer signal." Typhon raised his eyebrows and nodded. "If I even die. We're not that high up."

"True." He tapped on a panel near him and said, "Take us to ten thousand."

The speaker crackled with confirmation and the rotorcraft, silently, slowly began to climb. The air rushing through the floor became louder and colder. After a few moments, an alarm sounded and oxygen masks deployed from the overhead compartments. Zeus shivered a little in the cold and blinked to keep himself alert.

"You would die from here," Typhon yelled.

Zeus nodded.

"What's the other reason?"

Zeus licked his lips and sneered as he spoke, "Cronus. He wants to meet me."

Typhon nodded and Alcyoneus looked toward him. His face fell and he seemed disappointed.

With a flick of his now-loose right hand, Zeus tossed the strap of his seat belt out and wrapped it around Alcyoneus' neck. When the giant began to stand, he inadvertently freed Zeus' left hand, too. Zeus pulled on the strap forcing the man to stumble. Then Zeus kicked Alcyoneus' right knee.

He fell to the floor and slid to the opening. He gripped the seat belt for dear life as the wind resistance caught him and began to pull him away from the cabin. "Help! Help me!" he screamed.

Zeus glanced at Typhon and saw that the other man was simply observing. Without looking, Zeus walked to the edge of the hatch, extended his leg and then smashed his heel against Alcyoneus' fingers as he slowly slipped along the strap. There was a brief yelp and then the brute was gone.

Zeus kept his eyes on Typhon and he stepped along the rear of the opening. He glanced toward a control panel and pressed the same button he saw Alcyoneus press moments ago. The floor closed up. Both men blinked rapidly as the cabin repressurized and became warm again. Finally, the alarms stopped sounding.

"Sit," Typhon said. Zeus did, but in a different chair. Typhon sat, too, and brushed the dangling oxygen mask away from his face. "I have to admit, I'm somewhat pleased to be rid of him."

"What?" Zeus asked. "You don't resurrect?"

Typhon shook his head, "No, we're special, Cronus said. We were handcrafted for all kinds of enhancements. Like Ouranos and Gaia." He smiled and motioned toward Zeus. "Your grandparents."

"I see."

Typhon shrugged and said, "Shall we continue our conversation?"

Zeus inhaled slowly and then shook his head once. "I am meeting with Cronus to negotiate for the release of my friends. My wife. My brother... brothers." Typhon nodded. "You'll understand that my words are my currency and I'd rather not spend them on you."

Typhon smiled and said, "I do. I understand."

They rode in silence. Zeus closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. His head throbbed and ached, but he tried his best not to think about it. In, out. In, out. He visualized his lungs expanding. He imagined cells being pumped through his body. The pain dulled and he found his inner eye swathed in blackness.

He was alone. He felt alone. Truly alone. Ghosts of Hera, Hades, Poseidon, Demeter, and Hestia moved past him. Then he saw his other Olympians. Hermes, Dionysus, Hephaestus, Bia, Athena, Polemos, Ares, Arcas, Epimetheus... they were present but transparent. He moved toward them and they faded from existence, too. In the darkness, again, Zeus was painfully alone.

He felt constricted, contained. He was squished against a wall under a bed, looking out from underneath the blanket and hoping the boots wouldn't come back.

He thought, over and over, _I don't want to be alone._ Then he said it aloud.

Zeus awoke, opened his eyes, and realized that the rotorcraft was descending. He glanced around the cabin and saw that he was alone. He straightened in his seat and looked out the window as the plane began to land. Typhon came out of the cockpit and walked to Zeus' side.

"Forgive me," Typhon began, "but I'll need to conceal our location." With a swift gesture, he pulled a black hood over Zeus' head.

Typhon led the Psilon down the rotorcraft's steps and then into a vehicle. Zeus heard him chatting with someone, but he couldn't make out their conversation. Then Typhon sat in the back next to Zeus and the vehicle began to move.

They rode for a short time. Eventually, the vehicle came to a stop, but then it began to sink into the ground on some sort of lift. Finally, the door next to him was opened and Zeus was led out.

"I'll take that," Typhon said as he removed the hood.

Zeus blinked and looked around. He saw two other giants and a few Tiberian guards. He turned his head up and saw the structure of some sort of underground garage. Concrete pillars reached high into rock and steel struts supported floors and equipment. Ahead of them, flanking a sliding door, were two of the largest Cylons Zeus had ever seen. Nearly two and a half meters tall, they were hulking masses with multiple limbs, though two were obviously the primary appendages. Zeus stared at them and their color-tinted metallic hides as they walked past and into the elevator.

As crowded as it was inside, Zeus closed his eyes and tried to meditate his headache away again. He didn't have time. The elevator reached its destination quickly.

Typhon stepped out first and looked to the soldiers and giants. "Leave us." The soldiers nodded but the giants seemed less inclined to obey. "That's an order."

With a hand on Zeus' shoulder, Typhon led him down a short hallway and to a nondescript door. He paused and took in a deep breath. He grinned at Zeus and said, "Here we are."

Zeus nodded. Typhon opened the door.

It was an expansive room. The polished stone walls were a glistening shade of brown with nearly golden veins. The ceiling was a large panel of lights that illuminated everything below. Luxurious chairs of dark leather were positioned in a semicircle on one side of the room while a large desk, crafted from the same polished stone as the walls, dominated the other.

From behind that desk, Cronus stood.

"Welcome, Zeus."

A chill ran down his spine and he hesitated. Typhon stepped inside and moved to the left. Zeus forced his right leg forward and entered.

Cronus moved out from his desk and stood by its corner. He was wearing a plain, well-tailored black suit. And he was smiling. Zeus' pace slowed a bit as he studied the man. The similarities to his own father were beyond striking. He looked away and pushed his childhood memories back.

"Please, sit." He motioned toward a chair. "May I get you something to drink?"

"No." Zeus paused and saw that Typhon was sitting on the opposite side of the room. "Thank you."

Cronus nodded and sat on the corner of his desk. "You wanted to meet with me?"

Zeus spoke quietly. "I did."

Cronus shrugged and asked, "Why?"

Zeus raised a single eyebrow and said, "Because of your attacks on Psilons. Because you... captured several of my people."

Cronus feigned surprise. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."

Zeus grit his teeth and said, "I've not flown halfway 'round the world to play games."

Typhon laughed and Cronus looked up to smile at him. Finally, Cronus laughed, too, and he said, "Yes, I suppose not."

The door to the room opened and a striking, tall woman strode in. Her muscular curves led the eye toward her face and tightly bound red hair. Her cheekbones framed her smile as she said, "I wanted to see him."

Cronus motioned toward a chair and said, "Sit, Campe."

Zeus struggled for a moment to look away from her. When he settled his eyes back on Cronus, he asked, "Why have you sent these things after us? Why is Typhon abducting our transfer signals?"

Cronus pulled on the front of his jacket and said, "First things first, son." Zeus squirmed in his seat. "I have questions for you."

The white-haired man sighed. "Go."

Cronus crossed his arms over his chest and said, "You've been spreading propaganda in Tiberia's territories for some years now."

Zeus nodded. "Guilty."

"I know you're guilty," Cronus said, "I want to know your aims."

Zeus didn't hesitate. He spoke quickly and matter-of-factly. "To inspire rebellion. The people from the Expansion deserve their freedom. Freedom from Tiberian and Titan rule."

"Ah," Cronus said.

"In no other nation on Larsa is there such a disparity between the wealthy and the poor. The power exerted by the ruling classes is a direct..."

"Enough," the Titan said, waving his hands. He sighed and then asked, "Arms smuggling?"

Zeus shook his head. "That we haven't done."

"Maybe, maybe." Cronus raised a finger and placed it on his chin. "But what about Ares? We know he has met with insurrectionist elements in several nations."

"'Met with,'" Zeus answered. "Nothing more."

Cronus took in a breath through his teeth, "I don't know that I believe you."

"Believe what you wish. I'm speaking the truth."

Cronus slid off the desk and stepped toward Zeus. He leaned forward and said, softly, "What about us?"

Zeus narrowed his eyes. "'Us?'"

"Not you and me. The Titans."

"What about you?"

Cronus barked, "Why do you hate us?"

Zeus didn't respond in kind. He blinked slowly and said, "Were I more childish, I would say, 'You first.'"

Cronus straightened and looked at the wall. An ancient Tiberian sword and shield hung there. Finally, Cronus nodded and said, "Fair. That's fair." He stepped away and said, "It wasn't about you, at first. Wait, wait." He leaned over and said, "You have a backup body or two, right? A cloned flesh vessel waiting for you in a tub somewhere in Attica?"

Zeus nodded.

Cronus smiled and said, "So did we. When we escaped the torture chambers of Baraz Bio Medical, we left our backup bodies behind. But what did that bitch Karin Baraz do?"

Zeus' eyes scanned as he thought. Then he nodded once. "She awakened your backups."

"Yes."

"As individuals."

"Yes!" Cronus made a fist and leaned forward. "Doesn't that strike you as frakked up? Knowing that your own clones are out there, living lives they weren't supposed to?"

"It is," Zeus thought, "bizarre to contemplate."

"How would you react if Leto and Metis were to awaken your clones now?"

Zeus didn't flinch at Cronus' naming of his colleagues. "Current circumstances aside?" Typhon chuckled and Zeus continued, "I'd be confused, at the very least."

"Yes." Cronus clasped his hands behind his back and said, "And then those failsafes, those people who aren't supposed to be people in the first place, started having children." Zeus nodded. "We were told, repeatedly, as we were cut and prodded that we Psilons were the pinnacle of humanity's efforts to perfect itself. Why would perfect beings dilute their code by having children?"

Zeus squinted, "'Dilute?' Children do not weaken the parents." Cronus smiled and Zeus tilted his head, "Not in the manner you say."

"True, but that is what we told ourselves, though." He sniffed once and continued, "Did you know that they sterilized us?"

Zeus said nothing. He quickly shook his head side to side.

"They did. After years of testing, they gave us the freedom to live communally, but they took away our most basic personal freedoms. We couldn't have children. Once we fled, it was a race to duplicate ourselves again not only so we could transfer to younger bodies but so we could have children." He chuckled and almost mumbled, "Of course, once that was accomplished, we were spread out. Too busy to consider starting families. Not friendly enough with each other to broach the subject."

"And you couldn't procreate with humans," Zeus added.

"Found that out, did you? Yes." Cronus leaned forward again and said, "I'll go to the middle of the 'choke. It was more about what came later. We spied on you. We watched you like eagles. And there was something there that enraged me more than... I could have imagined." Zeus turned his head, waiting for the answer. "Love."

Zeus' eyebrows lifted.

Cronus nodded and stood. "It's taken me a long time to admit it, but that's the benefit of being immortal." He walked toward a nearby sofa and said, "I saw the way Karin Baraz treated the Psilon clones she awakened. I saw the way she treated you." He shook his head. "There was no small amount of envy behind my actions." His eyes glistened and he backed away a little. "If we had been treated the same, if maybe we could have had children ... Maybe _everything_ would be different." He shook his head. "I just don't know."

Zeus blinked and took a deep breath. He crossed his legs and said, "Well. That was a century ago. Why continue the hostilities?"

Cronus wobbled his head and said, "When I was in exile, I kept my eye on the world. I saw you, on the news, talking about me. Talking about the Titans. It was fallow time for hatred against the Titans. Open rebellion in the Expansion nations had died down. You," he pointed a finger, "stirred the stew."

Zeus clenched his jaw and lifted his chin. "Yes," he said, softly.

"Now, let me ask again. What about us?"

He hesitated as he prepared his answer. He had thought of this conversation for years. He had planned phrases and biting remarks for the last few weeks as the plan was put in place. Zeus decided to speak plainly, "For all our lives, we saw the Titans in the news and on the Matrix. You were cruel tyrants. Oppressors of freedom. The puppets of the Caesar. Worse than that... you dirtied our memories. Our cherished memories of our parents. Our Cronus. Our Rhea. Our Tethys and Iapetus and Oceanus. These were people we loved and held dear."

Cronus nodded. "I see."

"First you took them away from us and then, for decades, you took away all that we had left of them, our own warm memories and feelings." Zeus felt himself become choked up but he swallowed it and decided not to continue.

"I wasn't evil." Cronus spoke softly and his eyes stared off to the side. "I wasn't a tyrant. Alabor, the generals,... they made me that. I had to... become that." He shook his head, "I think it was the same for many of the other Titans."

Zeus didn't respond at first. He ran his eyes over a light-colored swirl in the stone floor and said, barely above a whisper, "That doesn't change anything. It doesn't change how we felt."

Cronus took a step closer to Zeus and said, "So. What do we do now?"

Zeus licked his lips and cleared his throat. With a nod over his shoulder toward Typhon, he said, "Call them off."

Cronus nodded. "Done. Stop your propaganda campaigns. All of your efforts against the Titans."

Zeus looked down and drew in a deep breath. "If you release the signals and data of my five colleagues."

Cronus winced. "I don't know." He shrugged and said, "I feel the need to keep them. For insurance, you understand."

According to all of the Olympians' preparations, it was time for 'Plan B.' Zeus, however, felt selfish. A warm weight descended on his chest and he asked, "Free my wife. My brothers. Keep Hestia and Demeter."

Cronus leaned against the corner of his desk again and folded his arms in his lap. He thought for a moment and then said, "But they're the most valuable. To you." He shrugged and looked across the room at Typhon and Campe. "I really shouldn't."

_Plan B it is_ , Zeus thought.

The two giants across the room laughed and Cronus chuckled. With a single flourish, Zeus leapt from his chair and kicked Cronus' leg out from under him. He stumbled off the corner of the desk, catching himself with his right arm. Zeus stepped next to him and grabbed his thick black hair. With a jerk, Zeus smashed Cronus' mouth into the stone surface and let him fall to the floor.

He leapt over the desk and pulled the sword from the wall. When he turned, he expected to see Typhon and Campe coming toward him. Instead, they were just ambling across the room, but Cronus was closest. He was standing rigidly and had a handgun pointed right in Zeus' face.

Cronus wiped his arm across his mouth, leaving a trail of red up his black sleeve. Gingerly, he pinched a couple of his teeth and tested their wiggle. He licked them and glared at Zeus, whose fingers now slowly released the blade, allowing it to clatter to the floor.

Cronus shook his head and said, "You disappoint me." He smirked a little and added, "Son." Zeus' shoulders sank and Cronus pulled the trigger.

The pain was brief, but then there was the familiar snap of electricity across him as he awakened. He felt the exhaustion of a new body and then the sensation of floating in thick wetness flooded his mind. Zeus sat up in the pod and wiped the gel from his face while someone else opened the lid.

"It frakking worked!" Hermes yelled. "The bug worked!"

Zeus reached up to the edge and tried to pull himself upright, but he slipped. "Help me."

Hermes was startled and reached in. Zeus managed to sit on top of the small built-in seat. As Hermes wiped the gel from his hands on his worksuit, Bia brought a towel to him. Zeus nodded and took it, wiping his face.

"Frak me," Hades said.

Zeus looked over at him and beamed. The other pods had been lined up together. Hermes, Athena and Metis' computers were still attached to them with cables snaking across the floor as lids opened. Selene helped Hestia from her tub and Ares reached into another to grasp Poseidon's hand. Hera was already out and cleaning herself up next to Demeter.

Zeus slumped over and rubbed his head. "The migraine's gone. Hurt like hell, but the program worked."

"Demeter?" Poseidon said. He took a few steps over and hugged her. She began to cry and he held her close.

"What happened?" Hades asked.

Athena handed him a towel and said, "You were caught like the others."

He chuckled and said, "I don't remember. I remember breaking my leg and Hermes running into the room..."

Zeus stood and caught Hera's gaze. Her eyes were wide and she slowly moved toward him. He glanced down at her nakedness and smiled before putting his hands on her shoulders. "How are you?"

She shook her head and softly said, "I was burned alive."

Zeus' smile faded and he hugged her. Feeling her warm body made him feel the ache of her absence again. He held her tighter and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he looked down and saw that tub goo was dripping from his body onto her freshly cleaned skin. "I'm sorry." His voice shook. "I'm getting you dirty."

She nodded and backed away. Hera kissed him briefly and said, "It's alright. Thank you."

Zeus held her arms and stopped her retreat. "You never have to thank me. I will always be there for you." She grinned a little and turned.

Athena took Zeus' wet towel and handed him a new one. He nodded and she asked, "How are you?"

He sighed and said, "Good. It went... well." Zeus waved Bia over. After a quick peck on her cheek, he said, "It's time to leave Attica."
LXXXII

**THE MESSENGERS**

7 Years Before the End

"I, too, have seen the fire," the male tender said.

The female drifted and said, "I have sought a means to quench it. To prevent it."

The male Messenger shook his head. "It is inevitable." She turned to look at him and even in her ethereal form, which only the other Messenger could see, it appeared that she had tears in her eyes. This stunned the being and he said, "This world will end. We can insure that it is not humanity's last."

The female nodded. "There are other worlds. Yet I remain... hopeless."

"It is now our task to safeguard some sprig of mankind that they may grow anew."

The female blinked away from her companion and found herself by young Corol Gaber. In this young woman, the tender saw generations of Gabers. Whole branches of humanity were embodied in this sleeping teen. Ages of free will and decisions compounded to give breath to a person, one who could aid the tree's growth as well.

The child stirred in her sleep and the Messenger forced herself to look away. If Larsa's inhabitants were to have a legacy, she may need to abandon her focus on this family.

"I have spoken with other leaders of the Pact and we agree," Attica's president said. "We cannot, at this time, become involved in the war between Tiberia and Gela. We will decline their request for aid."

The Messenger stood in the middle of the large table and scanned the faces of the president's cabinet. He looked deeply into each of them and settled on the science minister.

Berenice Callis was forty years old. She was not very tall and she was beginning to go through a mid-life change in appearance. Her petite form was expanding thanks to hard work and poor diet. It was not the exterior that intrigued the tender, though. Inside, he saw twin sparks of hope and ingenuity.

"From our best sources," the president nodded toward his intelligence minister, "we believe the Caesar's forces have been halted in their advances. They appear to be preparing for a major assault in the Majellan Mountains. If the Cylons can drive them back there, ..."

"I have a recommendation, sir," the prime minister said. "As we issue our answer to Thera, we include, covertly of course, the intel we have."

"Sweeten the medicine," the president said. He nodded and continued, "I will consider it."

The Messenger stood behind the wide-eyed science minister and listened to her rambling mind. She pored over data and calculations. She organized the rest of her day. She imagined the spacecraft that she and her agency were constructing. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to the important diplomatic information being discussed around her.

So the being pricked her ears.

"Is there a chance the Cylons could invade Tiberia?" The foreign minister leaned forward and continued, "That could create huge problems throughout the Empire with refugees and the like. And what if the Cylons don't like our answer? Could they attack us?"

Callis blinked and her mind reeled in new directions.

The president laughed and said, "I think we're getting too far ahead of ourselves here. A counterinvasion would be a long way off."

Callis didn't hear the president's dismissal. She was busy thinking of her spaceships again, but this time retrofitting them to hold hundreds of passengers.

The tender smiled and allowed her to continue.
LXXXIII

**GAIA**

6 Years Before the End

When she opened her eyes, the old woman didn't know where she was.

The room was dim. A small light glowed near the door, or what she thought was the door. She turned toward her left and saw the panel of her hospital bed. With a crooked finger, she reached toward it and pressed the red square. It beeped and someone asked, "Yes?"

She opened her mouth to speak and only croaked and wheezed. She coughed and then managed to ask, "Where's Karin?"

Pause. "I'm sorry?"

Gaia blinked and looked around the room. No, she still didn't know where she was. "Where's Karin? Bia? Zeus?"

"Alright, ma'am," the nurse said through the panel. "I'll call them right now."

She smiled and closed her eyes. She fell asleep.

"Gaia?"

She looked up. Her vision was blurry but she could see that the sunlight had bathed her room. She widened her eyes a bit and tried to focus on the person hovering over her. She saw a white fluffy halo above their head and she smiled.

"Zeus. So good to see you."

He smiled and leaned over. After a kiss on her cheek, he stuck his leg behind himself to wrap around a chair leg. He pulled it toward him and sat down. "How are you?"

"You don't have to speak so quietly," Gaia said. "No one's dying in here."

Zeus laughed. "Well, you don't look so bad for a woman of one hundred fifty."

She smiled and patted his hand. "You're so kind to leave off the first twenty-five years."

"Growth acceleration or not, tank time shouldn't count."

She smiled again and closed her eyes. Once she adjusted herself on the pillow, she squinted and asked, "What brings you here?"

Zeus hesitated and then said, softly, "You called me."

Gaia blinked a few times. "Oh. I don't remember." She squeezed Zeus' hand again and whispered, "Don't think poorly of me..."

"Of course."

"But where am I?"

Zeus nodded and leaned in close. "You're in a special home, in Tylos."

"Tylos," she repeated. "Why Tylos?"

Zeus glanced at the panels along her bed to make sure her intercom wasn't engaged. "Cronus and the Titans attacked the Institute a couple of years ago."

"Oh."

"We had to abandon it." Gaia was nodding now. "It wasn't safe to bring you with us so we brought you here."

"I remember." She cleared her throat and reached for her water cup on a nearby table. Zeus leaned back and got it for her, knowing she never would have reached it. After a few sips, she asked, "And where are you now?"

As he replaced the cup, he said, "Eridia. We've set up a nice little place for ourselves."

"Eridia. Desolate."

Zeus nodded. "In places. Caralo is nice, though."

Gaia relaxed a bit and let her head slide down the pillow. She closed her eyes for a moment, making Zeus nervous. She slowly opened them and said, "Is Cronus still bothering you?"

Zeus sighed. "I don't want to burden you with the details."

She smirked. "My eyes aren't good enough to watch any programs lately. Your visit's the best entertainment I've got."

He scooted his chair a bit closer and began, "You remember that he made these soldiers to come after us and steal our transfer signals? He made them with Ouranos' DNA?"

She nodded. "Typhon was the big one's name, right?"

"Yes." He licked his lips and put his hand on hers. "We freed the Psilons he captured, but Typhon's people are still after us. Cronus is still hunting us, moreso since our little trick. They've gotten close a few times. We've set up decoy facilities around the world... hoping to distract them from the real one." His voice began to trail.

"You're worried you can't run forever." Zeus nodded. Gaia pushed her head into the pillow to wriggle herself a bit closer to his face. "Well, you can't. You'll trip or run out of breath, one or the other."

There was a long silence. She simply looked at him and Zeus hated to break the quiet.

"Here," she said, "you use what you have. You use what you have on what they have." Zeus squinted as she continued, "They still have Cylons?"

"Well, they're not..."

"The dumb ones?" Zeus nodded. "You're smart. Figure out a way to turn them against the Titans. If not the Titans, then Tiberia."

Zeus nodded. "It's something we've thought about. It could be hard, though. All the safeguards they have..."

"You've figured out hard stuff before." Zeus nodded. "There's something else, too."

"What's that?"

"You're dead sexy." He chuckled and Gaia grabbed his hand. "You know it. Women know it, too. Even if they don't think about it, they feel it." Zeus stopped laughing and he stared at her intently. "Humans and Psilons alike can feel it."

Zeus slowly lifted his head and inhaled. "Use it."

Gaia nodded. "No pun intended, but it's another tool in your arsenal."

He looked toward the floor and said, "It would be difficult to get in close enough to the Titans."

"Difficult," she said. "Not impossible."

Zeus nodded now and said, "I just have to look for an opening." Gaia smirked and he shook his head. "I don't know how much longer I can stay."

"I understand. It's not safe."

"Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked. "Anything at all?"

She frowned and rolled onto her back. Gaia let her eyes glaze over as she stared toward the ceiling. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. A few moments later, she coughed and said, "Tell me, in all your research at the Institute, did you ever find out if there's an afterlife?"

Zeus grinned weakly and said, "No. I'm sorry."

"Me too." She sighed and blinked. "I'd like to be with Karin again." She closed her eyes and began to rest.

Zeus leaned over, kissed her forehead, and then left the room.
LXXXIV

**CAESAR**

6 Years Before the End

"'All things atrocious and shameless flock from all parts to Tiber.'"

The emperor stood and walked toward his balcony doors. He made no move to open them. Instead, he pressed his shoulder against the wood and looked out the windows. "Four million people now. Some have come to us to put their minds in new bodies. Mostly metal and plastic, of course. A few of the really rich ones want flesh and bone." He chuckled. "They want their younger selves again."

He turned his head and looked down into Viminal Square. His eyes danced over the cobblestones and toward the road that led to the Synoptic Church. "The vast majority are content to float." He looked over his shoulder and spoke softly, "I was. For decades, I was the only one. It's like," he raised his arms and began to gesture, "being on a toy raft or tube and drifting down a soft river. The water embraces you and if you lay down just right, it comes up to your face, just there. It's an energy, like a static shock, and it runs around you, pleasantly. You think of a thing and you're there. It appears. And you keep floating."

Caesar looked back outside. It was night and the stars shone relatively brightly, considering the city's lights. "I did it alone for a long time. It was peaceful." He shook his head. "Others began to have their minds placed in the Matrix. Either from their artificial bodies or in place of them, it didn't matter. The quiet river became too crowded." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to amble away from the doors. "Oil. That's it. You pour oil into water, and it's separate, yes? Distinct. If you pour another oil in, you can't keep the oils separate. They begin to blend."

He stopped walking and looked at the large deactivated monitor beside him. "Think of the thing that now calls itself Prefect." The emperor pointed at the screen and said, "Where is Gallian? Where is Titus or Cleon or Aelia? They're blended together. There are elements of each individual you can occasionally discern, but when they're here, on that screen, they are an amalgam. They are not who they were." He spun on his heel and walked away. "Etne had the right idea. She prolonged herself and lived in a mechanical body for a while, but she let even that die eventually." He sighed. "She was wise beyond her years."

Maxentius slowly lifted his head and looked to the far corner of the conference room. His closet still stood there; his old mechanical puppet still sat inside. "I would try to float on the river and it was useless. I felt myself being pulled in different directions. I heard and felt the thoughts of thousands of others. As immortal as an electronic existence is, I cannot fully commit." Caesar sighed and paced back along the length of the room. "I have to remain separate. I cannot lose who I am."

He stopped and leaned over, pressing his palms against the marble table. The emperor felt the warmth of his metal skin and bone radiate from himself and into the cold stone. "Almost two million Tiberians, already in that world." He straightened up and began to walk again. "If projections hold, we'll have three million patricians within a few months. By this time next year, four going on five million. That doesn't count the millions of wealthy from outside Tiberia who will come to us to do the work. Our optimates demand this. The census still counts them as citizens, but I would say they are not."

Caesar chuckled and looked up at the large hanging map. "My father used to say there wasn't a magistrate elected who didn't owe tens. Not a tribune elected who didn't owe hundreds. Not a consul appointed who didn't owe thousands." The emperor smirked and finished, "Not a Caesar born who didn't owe millions."

He turned and planted his shoulders against the lines of Eridia. "In the days of the Republic, there was a consul who was elected. Consuls were different then. He was elected and he got his laws passed but to get into that office in the first place, he borrowed millions upon millions of denars. He was enormously in debt." Caesar stepped away from the map and spoke excitedly, "And that wasn't unusual. Anyone in a position of power then got there by spending and spending and buying favor from other people in power. One consul was put in charge of some legions and he waged war. War for a decade across much of Isinnia. The gold and silver he took, the food, the wealth of the conquered nations and tribes... the slaves, it all went to pay off his debts and secure his next position of power."

Caesar inhaled sharply and folded his arms over his chest. "Now that we're born into the title, we emperors don't have to buy our way up the stairs. But to rule... to get what you want accomplished, to get your laws passed... that requires millions, for certain. Millions of people, not denars. But sometimes," he tilted his head and let the sentence trail away. "Favors. Favors for magistrates and tribunes. Governors. Subconsuls and consuls. The occasional praetor. Businessmen. Prefects." He rolled his eyes. "Useless prefects. A title with just enough imperium to please a fat patrician. Favors for them all."

He glanced through the windows and watched a distant aircraft's lights blink toward the horizon. "Millions of optimates. In a few years, tens of millions, probably. That's the thing about Transference, you see. They don't die. They remain citizens in that electric river, floating around and doing nothing but existing and experiencing whatever they desire. But they keep their strings on the real world. Not even death can stop them from cashing a chit." Caesar balled his fists and held them by his side. "There is no precedent for denying applications for Transference. I would set one, if I could. I would begin to deny them. But I owe too many of them to say no now. I've been Caesar so long... the ledgers are full of my debts."

He stomped his foot and began to walk toward the long marble table. "These optimates, our great patricians," he sarcastically waved his arms with a flourish, "they are now Tiberia's greatest burden. They are... wards of the state. They are on the dole and costing us far more than any massive rabble of angry plebs could hope."

The emperor shook his head and clicked his heels. "I've seen the figures. We can barely support the power and computing needs of those who went through the Transference already. Thousands more every month." He turned and looked back at the map. With an angry punch toward Gela, he shouted, "And we are mired in a war against our former servants because of it! For the resources. For the favors. We have thrown tens of thousands of Tiberia's soldiers into that ore pit... we cannot escape. We cannot back away without losing so much. Honor, respect, dignity." He grimaced, "The drive into the Majellan Mountains failed and yet we press on."

General Quintus planted his feet on the floor and finally stood from the table. After licking his lips, he asked, "What are your orders?"

His artificial eyes danced along the borders on the map and drifted to Tiberia's neighbors. "It's time to implement the Draft in the Expansion territories. Tell your people and the praetors in those areas to make ready for unrest." Caesar sighed and quietly added, "We have no choice."

"As you command, dominus." Quintus saluted and left the room.

The imperator turned slowly and caught sight again of his puppet's cabinet. He sighed and lowered his head. "It truly is my fault. All of it. I see that now."
LXXXV

**AHLJAELA**

6 Years Before the End

"Move it!" the foreman shouted. "If this spool isn't empty by sunset, there will be no dinner!" There was some mild grumbling, but the muddied workers continued as they had been.

The trench was dug yesterday, just in time for a rain storm. The clouds parted before dawn and just in time for Thon Ahljaela and his comrades begin their tasks. Large trucks squished into the field and dropped off huge spools of cabling. Machines lined them up and workers fed the lines into the ditch over a long trail of planks. Thon had to place brackets alongside the taut cable as they positioned it.

A streak of brown-red mud began to drip toward his eyes and Ahljaela wiped it off with a sweaty forearm. "Where are we today?"

Darro, his co-worker, looked up from the thick, black cable and said, "You're just now asking?" Thon shrugged. The older man shook his head and said, "Brixia. Near Brixia."

Ahljaela nodded and looked over the edge of the trench. "There's a small farm village up the road. I saw it last night when we drove in."

"Lots of small villages around here. Other than the food, it's a poor area."

Thon bent over and placed the bracket over the cable. He pulled the mallet back and easily drove it into the planks and mud. "Good. They could use the power."

Darro snorted. "'Power?'"

"This will connect to the plant on the hill, right?"

Darro glanced into the north toward the green slopes that were littered with new solar panels. "It will, but these villages aren't getting the power."

Thon watched Darro push another stretch of cable toward the planks. "Then... they'll get the Matrix. Maybe the first time for them, right?"

Darro sighed and rolled his eyes. "No. That second spool there has a data line." He pointed up the trench. "Still, Brixia isn't getting this." He let go of the cable and moved toward Thon quickly. "What are you playing at? We've been through this before."

Ahljaela ground his teeth and nodded. "I know. I have to... tell myself I'm doing some good sometimes." He looked into the sky and squinted. "It makes it easier to get out here and work."

"Oh." Darro backed away and gave Thon a soft slap on the shoulder. "I understand."

By sunset, the spools were empty and the foreman was pleased. The workers were given water and a bag with damp rice and a few pieces of fruit.

Ahlajaela scooped the rice toward his lips with three fingers on his right hand. He pressed the grains between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, allowing his saliva to well inside. Once the rice was sufficiently softened, he swallowed.

"You worked with Tully before, yes?" Darro asked.

Thon nodded as he scooped another finger's worth of rice. "Haven't seen him since we were in the north Appenines."

"He got drafted." Ahljaela stopped what he was doing and held his rice above the bag. "Another friend of his told me he died in Gela."

Thon's eyes wandered slowly toward the ground. Darro was tearing the rind off his fruit but the younger worker flicked the rice into the bag. "He had children."

Darro grunted and nodded. "Doesn't matter, I guess."

Thon inhaled and exhaled slowly. He looked over his shoulder at the shining solar panels that now reflected a deep blue evening sky. "It's not right." Darro slyly looked up at him as he continued. "We work every day of the week, making their power plants and building their datafarms. The fat patties," his voice got louder and drew others' attention. Thon's shoulders sagged and he continued, quieter, "They get to live their life of luxury, plus they buy their way into longer lives. They put their minds in the Matrix and live forever."

Darro licked flecks of pulp out of his teeth. "Some of them just buy new bodies. They visit the Matrix. They don't live there."

Thon shook his head. "It doesn't matter. People out here don't even have the Matrix." He reached into the bag for his fruit but stopped halfway. He sighed again and flopped his arms onto his knees. "We work and work. We get paid tiny coin. We get fed bad rice and we're given rags to wear." He pinched his dirty shirt and held it out from his chest. "We're lucky if we even get to bathe!"

Darro lifted his hand and began to wave a little. "Alright now."

Thon ignored him and said, "The few of us who aren't building power plants or computer plants or farming, they give them a sword and a gun and then ship them off to fight robots."

Darro caught sight of the foreman walking toward them. The older worker stood and then sat down by Thon. He turned his mouth so that it was even with Ahljaela's ear and said, "I know, but you need to be quiet."

Anger still welled inside him. He clenched his jaw and pounded on his knee. "I'm just... I'm tired of it not being fair." Darro nodded and watched nervously as the foreman walked past them. Thon saw and lowered his voice some. "If I was born in Tiber or Cales, I might have been a tribune's son or even a senator. But I'm a machinist's son from Gargamus."

Darro smirked and said, "Never heard of it."

"Exactly." Thon sighed and relaxed his muscles. "How many generations of my family just worked and worked and worked because they were told to? Didn't matter what they wanted to do. They did as they were told." Darro was silent and Ahljaela shook his head again. "It has to stop."

Darro sat still and thought for several moments. The foreman disappeared behind a truck and then the older worker leaned toward Thon. "If you could do something about it, would you?"

Ahlajaela turned slowly. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously, but once he saw the seriousness on his co-worker's face, he grinned a little. "Absolutely."
LXXXVI

**ARES**

5 Years Before the End

"We're now in Code Black," Metis said.

The Psilons took a deep breath and left the building. Outside, the noon sun broke through the dense tree cover. In the distance, they heard explosions and aircraft.

"Go," Zeus said.

Ares adjusted the strap on his automatic rifle and stayed behind his father. He watched as Hermes and Leto carried the last of their large computers out of the building and pushed it toward a waiting truck. Zeus stopped near Bia and waited for her to finish talking to Polemos.

"And when will Antaeus get here?" he asked.

"He's on his way now," Bia said. She pushed a cart of supplies into a vehicle. "We head for the beach and whoever can't take the boat will fly." Polemos nodded and ran off.

"I just got a note from Poseidon," Zeus said. "He and Arcas are all set up in the new facility."

Bia clapped her hands for a moment and then wiped her brow. "Good. We get the equipment to them and we'll be alright again."

An explosion made all of them pause. Its echo seemed to take forever to decay and Ares quietly offered, "They're still a few kilometers away."

They didn't acknowledge him and the others kept going. Zeus stalked into the trees and pushed aside large branches. Ares ducked as many as he could before he decided to hold his rifle out front to block the foliage.

"Zeus!" Hades ran up behind Ares. While the younger brother talked, the older brother sighed. "What do you need?"

"What?"

"I want to help."

Zeus glanced toward Ares and then he glared at Hades. "Now you want to help? Where have you been the last two weeks?"

He shrugged. "Busy."

"'Busy?' Doing nothing?"

"Not fair."

Zeus scoffed and then pushed his fingers through his hair. "I do not have time for this. I really don't."

"I'm saying I want to help."

"And I'm saying you can't," Zeus yelled. "Right now." Hades started to turn away and his brother added, "When we get to the new facility, you can help then. There's just nothing left to do right now but run."

Hades nodded and shuffled through the trees toward their emptying post. Zeus sighed again and darted into the trees. Ares followed suit and turned to watch the first truck speed over the freshly cleared path toward the shore.

"I love him, you know," Zeus yelled from a few meters ahead. "He's my brother. I have to. But, dammit, he drives me frakking nuts sometimes." Ares smiled. "He's plenty happy to laze around," he paused when he was thwacked by a large branch, "when it suits him. He doesn't want to research anymore and that's fine. I understand. But he has to do..." He was interrupted by a large explosion, followed by the screeching of a low-flying plane.

"That was much closer," Ares said.

The pair ran even faster and two more vehicles drove past them on the nearby path. Soon, Zeus and Ares caught up with the first group of Psilons who had fled. They were trotting through the jungle at an almost leisurely pace, but when they saw Zeus and Ares, they began to run at full speed. Another plane blasted overhead.

"Can we tell whose they are?" Zeus yelled.

Ares never bothered to look up. "Not from in here. Maybe at the beach."

The group ran for several minutes before the jungle began to clear. Once they burst into the open and kicked white sand into the air, they paused and looked around to gather their bearings. Zeus immediately ran to the west where a thin dock jutted into the waves. The vehicles were already unloading and their boat was standing by.

"Where are the airships?" Ersa asked.

"They're on the way," Athena said.

Ares ran to join his father and he slid a pair of sunglasses on as he did. Once he reached the dock, he saw Zeus was speaking to Bia, out of breath.

"How much longer?" His hands were on his knees.

"Just a few minutes."

There was another distant explosion and the fleeing Psilons still on the beach stopped and turned.

"Empty!" Epimetheus yelled as he began to reverse his truck off the dock. Another vehicle pulled forward to empty its cargo. Once his was in the sand, Epimetheus jumped out of the cab and ran back to the dock to help Bia finish unloading hers.

Ares looked toward the treeline above the jungle. In the distance, he saw a pair of jets flying horizontally. "Those are Ticulan fighters." He turned to Zeus and said, "Probably Cylons." When the machines first lashed out at other nations months ago, Ticul was one of their first targets. Their formidable air force was immediately co-opted and used by them against everyone else.

Another jet flew west to east and dropped its payload. The Psilons could see the shockwaves and the firebursts before the sounds reached their ears. "They're burning the jungle," Prometheus said.

Ares nodded and walked toward Zeus. "We need to leave."

His father turned and looked at the boat and the still-to-be-loaded cargo. "We're going as fast as we can."

Ares knelt down and opened the zipper on his satchel. He removed his telescanner and tried to watch the planes. A single streak of smoke tore across the sky before dipping into the jungle. He squinted, trying to see what it was, when he saw three planes come into view. "Those are Llanoan fighters. Humans. The Pact's fighting back." More explosions in the distance.

"Done," Bia said. She backed her vehicle off the dock and the rest of the Psilons formed a line, carrying boxes, bags and equipment onto the sea vessel by hand. Ten minutes later, they were finished.

Epimetheus stepped out of the boat's cabin and said, "We can get ten of you on board. The rest will have to fly."

The group turned and began to look at each other. After a few moments of no one moving, Zeus started pushing and pointing at his people. "Go. Get on board now. We'll see you on the other side."

Ten of the Olympians crowded onto the _Paralus_ and Epimetheus started its engines. Zeus backed off the dock and stood beside Ares. He waved at Bia and she ducked into the cabin. Epimetheus slowly maneuvered the boat away from the dock and then opened it up.

The hydrofoil roared loudly before its movement matched its volume. Ares saw a couple of passengers being tossed by the acceleration before the _Paralus_ reached its top speed of nearly one hundred kilometers per hour. After just a few moments, the ship began to disappear into the blue haze above the ocean.

"Now we wait for Antaeus," Zeus said. He began to walk to the edge of the trees a few meters away when another jet tore overhead. Ares looked at it with his telescanner. "Who was that?"

"Cylons." Now above the jungle, the fighter turned and banked toward the beach. "They may have seen us."

"Oh no," someone mumbled.

"Into the trees," Zeus said. They all ran into the foliage and the plane flew overhead. He looked out into the sand at the vehicles and said to Ares, "They'll know someone's nearby."

Ares only nodded. He looked up with his telescanner and covered himself with a drooping green frond. The plane had turned again and was approaching. "Third pass." As it zoomed by Ares studied it and then said, "Their payload is gone. They might still have ammo in their cannons, though."

Zeus' wristband beeped and he looked down. "He's coming."

"What about the Cylons?" Prometheus asked.

Zeus shook his head and said, "We'll have to be quick."

Ares kept scanning the sky while the Psilons crouched low and watched over the water, sweeping their eyes across the horizon. Finally, a shimmer under the clouds grew larger and a glint flashed in his eyepiece. Ares smiled and said, "There."

They turned to look as the great golden shuttle dove toward the shore and aimed its huge head at the dock. Its thrusters engaged, throwing sand in billowing rolls, and stopping the craft at a seemingly impossible speed. As the _Aetos_ hovered, the doors swept open and Ares stood.

"Go!" Zeus yelled. The remaining Psilons ran as quickly as they could. It was nearly fifty meters across the beach in the open and not one of the Olympians could resist looking warily into the sky.

Ares stopped by the door and waved everyone behind him on. He heard the crackle of the Ticulan jet and looked into the southwest. It was turning yet again and approaching fast. "We have to go!" he yelled inside. He slapped the back of each of the last four people and then jumped inside himself. "That's it!"

"Hold on," Antaeus said from the control seat at the front of the eagle. The doors swished shut and then the shuttle lurched up and aimed at the clouds. When the thrusters engaged, most of the passengers were thrown to the rear of the cabin and Ares steadied himself on a chair's support. He managed to climb into the seat and buckle himself in before he heard the first pings of bullets striking the hull.

"The wings?" Zeus said.

"Almost there." Antaeus pressed his hands on the induction panels harder and saw their speed in his mind. Once they reached the minimum level, he closed the dozen long wings and turned the shuttle into a dart. It blasted away from Caralo's coast and broke the sound barrier in short order.

Ares placed his hand on an induction panel and watched the fighter turn into a speck behind them. The Cylons would not be able to catch up. He looked at Zeus and nodded.

"Everyone alright?" he asked. Once they responded positively, he walked toward the front and sat next to Antaeus. "Course?"

"Due north, then we'll sweep east over the Iberian Sea and fly north through Attica." Zeus nodded and reclined in his seat. Antaeus looked over his shoulder at everyone in the cabin and said, "You may as well rest. We're going to be flying for a while."

Aphrodite scoffed and looked at Hephaestus. "How can I rest after all that?"

Ares smiled and leaned back in his chair. He was asleep in minutes.

"Son?"

Ares stirred and looked at Zeus. "Where are we?"

"Near Attica." He sat beside him and whispered, "I just got a message from a contact in Tiberia."

"Yeah?" After he spoke, Ares looked around and saw that most of the passengers were asleep. Almost as a reflex, he spoke again but softer, "Yeah?"

"There has been some movement there. More people joining the cells. More dissatisfaction with the Caesar. I need you to go meet with the leader."

Ares raised his eyebrows and said, "Now?"

"Yes. Arcas is on his way to us with a dartship. We're going to meet with him on Attica's northern border."

Ares nodded and thought. "I'm a bit wary of going into the bears' cave during a Code Black."

Zeus quietly said, "I understand. If you can hold out for a couple of days, the _Paralus_ will have reached port and we can be set up again. You'd be able to transfer if you had to."

After another moment, Ares asked, "Why the rush? In the middle of all we have going on, why now?"

Zeus inhaled slowly and repositioned himself in his chair. "The war isn't going well for Tiberia. They've expended all of their resources and there have been rumors that they may seek an alliance with the Pact of Nations to fight the Cylons."

Ares snorted lightly and said, "I'll believe that when I see it."

"I understand, but... the facts are the facts. They've lost many soldiers and tons of materiel." He leaned closer and continued, "Homefront opinions of the Caesar and Tiberia in general are at all-time lows. In the Expansion nations, too. The Draft has turned millions against Tiber. This is the time to strike. We fortify our friends in the Expansion and they drive out the Titans. We help our friends in Tiberia and they can force the Caesar's hand. Maybe stage a coup... that's a longshot, certainly. Nonetheless, if the stormfront shifts, both the Titans and the Caesar could lose their grips."

"I understand."

Zeus patted his son's hand. "We need these people, Ares. Help them however we can."

While his father went back to the control chairs, Ares began to access information on their cell in Tiberia by placing his hand on a soft white induction panel. After being lost in the data for a time, the _Aetos_ began to descend and Ares stood. He clasped his satchel shut and looked to the front of the shuttle. Zeus gave him a curt nod and opened the hatch.

In northern Attica, it was storming. Rain fell at a forty-five degree angle and Ares ran into it, passing Arcas on the way.

"All yours!" he yelled.

Ares jumped inside and closed the hatch. He tossed his bag into the rear seat and lifted the small craft off the ground with a thought. Soon he was flying due east toward Tiberia.

A few hours later, the computer woke the pilot with a soft beep. Ares saw that he was nearly at the outskirts of Cales, a large city on Tiberia's southern coast. He took the dartship down and flew it along the bed of a thin river and through a dense forest. The propulsion of the aircraft and its special hull meant the ship was unlikely to be spotted, but he didn't want to take any chances.

A short while later, he landed the dartship in a clutch of trees. With the hatch open, he pulled the satchel's strap over his head. Then he picked up the automatic rifle. He stared at it for a moment and then looked behind him. It was a quiet, pleasant night. He sighed and stowed the weapon in the rear of the ship. He pressed a button and it closed up tight.

He walked for the better part of an hour. He thought he heard distant thunder. No rain came and he heard no more. After a few more kilometers, Ares emerged from the forest and found a smoldering wooden frame. He narrowed his eyes and slowly looked around. He didn't see anyone so he cautiously moved around to the side of the smoking structure. That's when he saw the fire trucks and police cars.

"Halt!" someone yelled.

Ares began to run. As he did, he wondered if this had been a trap. He ran alongside another house and came around the front, face to face with an officer. Quickly, Ares jabbed with his left hand, sending the man reeling. Another officer was right behind him and he thrust his gun near Ares' face. He ducked, grabbed the weapon and slapped the man's elbow, bending it forcefully in the wrong direction. He screamed and collapsed as Ares kept moving and tossed the gun into the grass.

He ran into the street and past a group of firefighting robots standing still with a hose in their hands. Another forest was ahead and he thought he could make it. That was before the police car ran into him.

When he awoke, he was laying down, cuffed to the rails of a gurney. A paramedic was tending to him while three officers scowled above. With a jerk, Ares tried to sit up and realized that something was on his face.

"You hit your head," the paramedic said. "I've got it stitched. I'm more worried about your hip and your leg."

Ares tensed his muscles in sequence throughout his body as a kind of self-diagnostic. "I'm fine."

One of the officers leaned forward and practically yelled in his face, "You're being charged with assault and attempted murder."

Ares smiled. "Assault? Yes. Not attempted murder."

The officer leaned back and a woman peered into the ambulance. She was wearing a suit and seemed surprised to see Ares. "Do you know who this is?" she muttered. The officers exchanged looks before she stepped into the area. "Uncuff him. He's mine." Reluctantly, the men complied.

The woman led Ares away and toward a waiting vehicle. She said nothing. He said nothing. Soon they were in downtown Cales in a government building. When they walked inside, she said to a guard, "Take him to level three. And keep an eye on him. He likes to run."

Minutes later, Ares was tied to a wooden chair. His eye was still bloody and two humans stood at the door of the small room with rifles. He knew an interrogation was coming soon. They made him wait in silence for a while, though. Finally, a man wearing a crumpled dress shirt and a few days worth of facial growth entered and dropped a stack of papers onto the table.

"Ares?"

The Olympian nodded.

"I'm Francis Scipio, an interrogation officer with Tiberia's central command." He stood in front of the table, slumped. He sighed and continued, "I have some questions for you but it won't take long."

Ares didn't respond.

"Where is the Olympus Institute based these days?"

One side of Ares' mouth curled upward into a smirk. He didn't answer.

Scipio waited and then asked, "What's the range on your mind being able to download into a new body?" A single eyebrow of Ares' shot up. "Yes, we know about that. We've got the Titans, you know." He leaned over and continued, "So what's the range? If you die here,... are we close enough so you can wake up again?"

No response.

"When's the last time you spoke with a Titan?"

No response.

Scipio sighed and asked, "Where is Zeus?"

No response.

"Look, Ares," the interrogator said. "You're a Psilon. Just like your old man. We just want to know where he is so we can talk to him."

"Talk to Zeus?" Ares scoffed, "You don't know him very well."

"That's his fault, though, isn't it?" Scipio said. He stood and walked around the table. "There's a war going on out there and not against Attica. We're working together. Cylons are fighting humans; that's the important thing. Routing us out of our homes. And you," he turned, pointing at Ares, "you Psilons, you flesh-and-blood Cylons, are holding your hands up and playing the pacifist card."

"We have no quarrel with you or them," Ares said.

"Sure. That's what you say now. What about when we let you go? Will you run and tell daddy how the mean ol' humans roughed you up?"

Ares grinned. "I'm a big boy."

"Right." The man leaned over the table. "The Caesar just wants to speak with Zeus. He just wants the opportunity to try and win you guys over to our side."

"Yeah, well," he stretched his arms against the rope, causing the chair to creak, "arresting his son might not prove as conducive to trust as you might think."

"You're not under arrest." Scipio removed a knife from his pocket and sliced the ropes. Ares let the strands fall to the floor and he watched the interrogator fold the blade and return it to his pocket. "See?"

Ares was about to speak when he heard a distant alarm sound. The man turned to the guards, one of whom was pressing a device into his ear. "Clankers. They're here."

"Frak," Scipio said. He turned and looked at Ares, sighed loudly and said, "Keep him here. Protect him."

The guards nodded and turned to the door. Ares stood and walked to the window. He looked out and saw only the courtyard of the facility. The lights had been shut off. A guard gave him a wary look, but then he turned back toward the door. There was an explosion. Out the window, Ares saw the side of a wall blow out. The guards primed their weapons and distant gunfire reverberated in the hallway.

"Hey, guys," Ares said, "would one of you mind giving me something to shoot with?"

The guards looked at each other and one finally pulled a handgun from his waist and handed it to him. "Be sure you point it at the shiny ones."

Ares pulled the slide back and released it. He walked back to the window and looked down. There was no ledge, no ladder, no drain pipe. Nothing to grab onto and climb down. He turned to look around the room when he heard gunfire just outside. He backed against the wall and readied the weapon. An explosion knocked the door in, bashing one of the guards in the head. Two golden Cylons stepped into view and, with two quick shots, killed the other standing guard. They walked into the room and one stared at Ares while the other studied the human lying unconscious on the ground. It shot him in the head.

The Cylon looking at Ares finally spoke. "You are Ares, are you not?"

Ares was aiming his pistol right at the single circular eye socket of the Cylon. He contemplated shooting the thing but he noted that its weapon wasn't raised. "I am."

"We are not here for you," it said. "You are free to go." It turned and walked out of the room.

The second Cylon moved to the doorway and said, "Be sure to tell your father that we extended this courtesy."

Once the machines were gone, Ares stepped into the hallway and looked in both directions. The soldiers had moved away and were going from office to office as though they were looking for something. He ducked back into the room and removed his satchel from a table in the interrogation room. He breathed slowly and thought about what to do next.

With the handgun by his side, Ares moved in the opposite direction. He found a stairwell and ran down the steps. Outside an exit, the darkened courtyard of the government building seemed empty. He quickly and quietly moved across it, emerging on the far side by a city park. He concealed the gun and walked nonchalantly along the sidewalk.

He looked down at his wristband and contemplated sending a message to Zeus. _They really want to meet with him. What does the Caesar want with my father?_ He kept thinking as he mentally mapped his way to his original meeting place. _Cylons in Tiberia. They've invaded more than just Scythia then. The war is going worse than even father thought. And what did that interrogator say? 'We're working together...' Maybe the rumors are true_.

Distant sirens came from the government compound. The streets were bare. He saw an old storefront ahead and the logo matched the one he was given to look for. He continued to walk quickly but purposefully along the sidewalk. He passed by the front door of the store and looked in as best he could. He saw nothing... save for a small red eagle drawn on the 'closed' sign.

Ares turned right at the next streetlight and then snuck behind a parked car. He crouched low and darted to the front door and found that it was open. Once he got inside and pushed it shut, he stood and said, "Flash."

Someone turned on a lantern and Ares saw about ten people with guns aimed at him. An older man smiled and said, "Thunder." He offered his hand and Ares took it eagerly. "It is good to see you, friend."

"You as well, Darro." The man leaned to the left and studied the Psilon's injury. Ares shook his head and said, "Just a bit of bad timing, apparently."

"But good, too?" Darro smiled and pointed toward downtown. "The Cylons could not have chosen a better time for their raid."

"A raid, eh?"

Darro nodded. "Apparently. Not a full invasion." He shrugged. "We have a few people on the inside."

Ares looked around at the group and then exhaled loudly. "Well, I am here. What was so urgent?"

"A great many opportunites." Darro pulled a couple of chairs forward. "Infiltration, leaking reports from government entitites. What Cronus is up to." Ares grinned. "We have much to discuss." Someone in the background cleared his throat and Darro snapped his fingers. "First, I have a new lieutenant to introduce to you." A young man stepped from the shadow and stood next to Darro. "This is Thon Ahljaela."

Ares reached his large hand out and took Thon's. As he shook it, he said, "Welcome aboard."
LXXXVII

**CRONUS**

5 Years Before the End

"The Caesar is growing weak," he said.

Iapetus raised a single eyebrow and mumbled, "Be careful."

"Don't worry," Cronus smiled. "I'm speaking figuratively. Of course." He turned and looked across the faces of the assembled Titans. "His forces have been rebuffed time and again. Tiberia gains a foothold in Gela and loses ground in Jomon. The Cylons take another shitpile nation in Eridia and launch sorties into Isinnia. Quintus is on the way out, I hear."

Iapetus nodded and said, "But Caesar backs him, strongly."

"He is not the only mechanism at work in the Empire," Theia said. "We need strength."

Cronus leaned forward and propped himself up on his elbows. "The emperor is fortunate that the Cylons' attention is split. By invading other nations and taking their armaments, they can't push back as effectively against the legions."

"But," Hyperion said, "there's a tipping point." Cronus nodded. "The Cylons have gained a massive force through invasion and theft as much as through their own construction and manufacturing."

Tethys asked, "How long before they use all that they've gotten against Tiberia? Or against everyone else?"

Cronus looked to Iapetus as the other Titan thought. Finally, he said, "Any time now. They have dozens of legions of soldiers, entire squadrons of aircraft and transports. Three entire fleets of naval vessels, too." Oceanus shook his head while Iapetus finished, "Were I them, I'd strike now."

Coeus quickly lifted his hand and began to speak, "Is there truth to the rumor that the Caesar is negotiating with the Pact for an alliance?"

Cronus looked toward Iapetus and said, "You're the war consul. Tell us."

Iapetus smirked and sighed. "There have been... discussions." Some of the Titans grumbled. "A few cautious messages sent but no real overtures."

"Since you're being so open," Cronus said, "tell me, why does the Caesar want to speak to Zeus?"

Iapetus' eyes widened and he said, "I don't know anything about that."

"Come now," Cronus said. "I have birds that chirp. A message was delivered through Ares. Caesar wants to meet with Zeus."

Hyperion pounded the table with his fist and scrunched up his mouth as though he was readying a glob of spit. "Zeus. What does he want with him?"

Iapetus shook his head. "Technology? Information? Another inroad with the Pact? This is the first I'm hearing of it."

Cronus motioned toward Hyperion and said, "Tell him what you told me."

After a quick scratch of his thick beard, Hyperion sat forward and said, "That terrorist and his friends have been visiting villages in Assuria. They have structured cells to operate against the government."

"The same is true in Alabor," Theia said. "No offense, Cronus, but things haven't been as bad as they are now since you were there."

Cronus grinned, "I'm only glad I'm no longer a praetor. You each have vast responsibilities and you're being undermined by your children." Tethys scoffed. "You're not being helped by Tiber, either. The Draft has only hurt your positions." Most of the Titans nodded. "The Caesar has, inadvertently, prepared your populations to be molded by terrorists like Zeus."

"What is the point of this," Iapetus asked, angrily.

Cronus leaned back and stared at his comrade. "The point is... there is an air of change. I don't know whence it will come, but I feel it. We need to prepare for the possibility that you won't be getting much more help from the Caesar in the near future." Iapetus sighed. "It's not a threat. It's not seditious talk." He poked the table to emphasize each of the next three words, "It is realism."

"And Zeus? The Olympians?" Crius asked.

Cronus nodded and stood. "Typhon is hunting them. Still. They will be stopped."

Several of the Titans grumbled and began to leave the room. Eventually, only Themis was still seated at the table. She was sitting in her chair, comfortably, as she had been for the whole meeting. Finally, she stood and slowly walked toward Cronus.

"Rhea? Mnemosyne?" Themis asked. I didn't see them here."

"Rhea is content to oversee farmers in Naban and Saban." He shook his head dismissively. "And Pathya now. Let her stay there."

Themis nodded. "I believe there is more to it than that." Her eyes wandered over to Cronus' personal guard, the large, colored, multi-limbed robots standing by the doors.

"I wouldn't know." He wiped his mouth and said, "Mnemosyne is off on her own. Painting, watching sunsets, or something."

"Living a peaceful life," Themis said. Cronus shrugged. She tilted her head before saying, "Caesar is preparing the people for Zeus?"

Cronus nodded. "Truth."

"To a point. In reality, the Titans are more complicit than the emperor." Cronus' grinned, almost inviting her to go further. "Hyperion grumbles about Zeus but he fails to connect the terrorist attacks with the public executions he holds. Tethys tightly controls her mining concerns, her death camps, while the people struggle. And Alabor? They're starving while Theia lives in luxury."

Cronus shrugged. "You are not incorrect."

"Then why advise them?" Themis asked. "Why keep propping them up in their own minds and to their own detriment?"

Cronus' jaw flexed and he folded his arms over his chest. Campe entered the room and stopped. She leaned against the door and smiled at him. He looked back at Themis and said, "I need them to be this way." Themis was surprised and he added, "Everything I said is true. The Caesar's days are numbered. Whether his end will come from the Cylons or from his own angry, hungry plebeians, I don't know. But the end is near for the Empire." Themis nodded. "When it falls, when the nations connected to it fall, we will be there to pick up the shards. The Cylons will wage war not only against Tiberia, but Attica, Huban, and the rest. They will be weakened, all of them. And the Titans will still be here."

"And what about the Cylons if they're victorious?"

Cronus inhaled deeply and said, "I've talked my way into their favor before. I've maintained... a measure of communication with them."

Themis squinted and said, "You sound like a bad movie villain."

Cronus shook his head. "Again, realism. We will still be here to rebuild. We will have learned many lessons. I can advise some of them," he motioned toward the empty table, "on better ways to govern. Right now, though, they're quickening the fall of the Empire and I need them to keep doing that." He smiled, "Once it does collapse, we can reshape Tiberia and all these nations however we like." He took Campe's hand. "We are the future."

Themis backed away. "Outlast the emperor. This is your plan? It sounds delusional."

He kissed Campe's cheek and said, "I'm being prepared."
LXXXVIII

**CAESAR**

4 Years Before the End

Maxentius exited the large sitting room and stepped out onto the balcony. He could smell the salty air. The waves hit the rocks far below. He opened his eyes, looked around the white-colored villa and saw his guest waiting down in the garden.

The emperor descended the staircase and allowed his hands to brush along the smooth brick of the rails. More brick, intricately patterned, made up the floor of the walkway and the garden. He moved between two carefully sculpted bushes and stood calmly behind the man.

"Zeus."

He turned around. "Caesar."

He smiled and walked toward him, offering his hand. Zeus grinned and stuck his out. As they shook, the emperor said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, at last."

The white-haired man smirked and said, "I'm not entirely certain I believe that."

"Oh, please believe me." Maxentius walked ahead of him toward the wrought iron fence. "Like your parents and the Titans both, you Psilons have contributed a great deal to the world in the sciences."

Zeus nodded. "We try."

"Yes." The Caesar chuckled and said, "I admit that I get more than some pleasure from seeing Cronus feeling... distressed about you."

Zeus' eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Yes," the imperator shook his head, "I do. Cronus and the Titans have done a great deal for me and Tiberia over the last century." Zeus' jaw flexed as though he were stifling a sneeze. Caesar knew he was merely guarding his speech. "I have been disappointed in the way some of them have ruled their territories. Cronus foremost among them."

"Thus his exile."

Maxentius nodded. "To here, actually." He shrugged, "They keep their populations in line, they produce more than enough of their resources, but Tiberia is now a nation that tries to do business with the outside world. The Titans are a liability, perception-wise. I would be happy to wash my hands of them."

Zeus waved and said, "Then why not get rid of them?"

"Because I do not trust anyone else, simply put. I gave them freedom and comfort at a time when they had neither. That bought me their loyalty for generations. Most of them. People, though," he shook his head, "have their own goals. Often short-term and near-sighted."

Zeus nodded. "Indeed."

"Let's talk about you." The Caesar turned and leaned against a brick column. "Your war on the Titans."

"It's not my war."

The emperor nodded. "I suppose the Titans started it."

"With your help."

Silence. Maxentius inhaled deeply and nodded. "Yes. On a personal level, I apologize to you for that. I was paying someone a debt. A debt I felt I owed. Had I known then what I know now, I would not have paid it."

Zeus said nothing.

"You've struck your blows. Propaganda, bombings, arms shipments..."

Zeus shook his head. "No. Propaganda only. The rest came naturally from all that the Titans have done."

"Perhaps," the emperor said. "Your recent stunt with him," he laughed, "Cronus was furious. I don't know the full story with his crew of brutes, but I know you angered him beyond reckoning." Caesar girded his smile and then said, "I did not bring you here to scratch scabs, however." Zeus nodded. "I have questions for you. Maybe a proposal."

"Ask your questions."

Caesar folded his arms across his chest. "You've met with the Cylons. Please, give me your analysis of them."

Zeus said, "They are, quite simply, children. When they were placed on Gela, they were given no guidance on how to make a society." The emperor nodded. "They live their lives as they wish with little thought to others."

"Yes. That's what my ambassadors said, too."

"There's something else, though." Maxentius fixed his eyes on him and listened intently. "They can be singularly focused. Driven. The way they embrace their personal freedoms borders on anarchy. But if that freedom is threatened, they will strike out. They will refocus and defend themselves however they see fit. They can be easily unified toward this common goal." The emperor began to slowly nod. "Something, I believe, Tiberia is already experiencing firsthand."

The imperator said, "It is no secret that our campaign against them has not gone as quickly as we would have liked."

"And they have raided Tiberia, too." The Caesar seemed surprised at this statement and said, "Do not forget. My son was in Cales a few months ago."

Maxentius looked toward the ocean and spoke softly. "Do you believe the Cylons are dangerous? Beyond the current warfare?"

"Long term?" Caesar nodded. "The possibility is there, yes. Their single-mindedness could mean they would do whatever they feel they need to to achieve their aims. Even if it means the destruction of entire nations. So far, though, they have only conducted small raids into neighboring countries around Gela..."

"I fear they cannot be bargained with," Maxentius said.

"True," Zeus replied. "Certainly not like you would with any other nation. You can't bribe them because what interests them isn't yours to give." He paused and sized up the emperor. "Perhaps Tiberia should not have attacked."

The imperator glared at Zeus and said, "It was a matter of honor. And of necessity. Many factors. You would not understand."

"Hmm." Zeus strolled toward a colorful flowering plant and said, "And you are working with the Pact of Nations against them?"

"It is a limited partnership, yes. Some intelligence work. Little more." He sighed and added, "That is part of why I wanted you to come. I wanted you to make an official overture on our behalf to Attica." Zeus spun around and widened his eyes. "Tiberia may be ready for a greater arrangement."

Zeus inhaled slowly and then asked, "Why me?"

"I need you to convey my sincerity."

"Then the war goes more poorly than even you say."

Maxentius turned his head slightly and opened his mouth to speak. He then closed it and let the statement hang.

"I will speak to my contacts in the Attican government for you."

Caesar turned away from the sea view and took a few steps toward Zeus. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. For the first time, he spoke earnestly. "At the moment, that is all that I need from you. But, in the future,... I do not know." He shook his head and Zeus stared at the emperor. "The war does not go well. I fear Tiberia, Attica, all of Isinnia will be overrun with machines in just a few years." He relaxed and his arm fell to his side. "What that means for humanity, I do not know. I only know that, at some point, we will need your help. Not just for better computers or medicines. But for survival."

Zeus pulled his head away and slowly inhaled. He nodded once. "I will... consider everything you've said."

"Please do." The Caesar looked at the sea again and smiled briefly at the beauty of the setting sun. When he turned back around, the Psilon leader was gone.

Maxentius walked around the garden for a few minutes more. He cupped flowers in his hand and looked into the sky as the first few stars appeared in the deep dusk blue expanse. Then he withdrew himself from the Matrix.

He was sitting in his bedroom at the palace in Tiber. He sighed and looked toward the windows. Caesar wanted to see the same stars he had just seen at his virtual island of Arba, but clouds obscured everything.
LXXXIX

**POSEIDON**

4 Years Before the End

"We are happy to welcome your people to Thoria," the deputy minister said.

Zeus bowed a little and responded, "And we thank you for the hospitality we've been shown so far, Ms. Daag."

The old woman opened her hands and asked, "Have your infrastructure needs been met?"

"Yes. We are secure and able to continue our work."

"Your work," she said. "Hmm. That is part of why I wanted to meet with you."

Poseidon looked at Zeus, who glanced toward him briefly. "What about it?"

Her eyes cast toward the ceiling and she said, "You know that Thoria has been at the forefront when it comes military development and defense." Zeus nodded. "We were on the front lines during the War of Expansion, defending nations we had little interest in or relationships with. Even now, our soldiers are defending distant lands from the Cylons."

"And I'm sure the Pact and those nations are very appreciative," Zeus said.

"Certainly," Daag responded. She folded her hands on the table and continued, "In the interests of friendship, I would like to ask the Olympus Institute if they might be able to share with us some of their technology."

Poseidon raised an eyebrow. "Thoria is already very advanced, Madam Minister."

"We are, thank you, but I'm referring to new fields of technology. Ones we do not currently master." Both of the Psilons were silent and she continued unprompted. "Space travel. Namely, faster-than-light travel."

Zeus looked down and softly asked, "I wasn't aware that that technology was common knowledge."

"It isn't." Daag said nothing else. She simply smiled.

Zeus took in a deep breath and looked at his brother. Poseidon turned and said, "If Thoria wishes to join the Space Probe Agency, I'm sure they would be happy to..."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Our government is not interested in that. We would simply like the technology as a kind of... appreciation for our hospitality."

Zeus' jaw clenched and, after a few seconds, he nodded. "I will discuss it with the rest of the Institute and let you know."

Daag clapped the table and began to stand. "That is excellent. Thank you, Mr. Zeus." She paused midway and then said, "Oh, I should tell you. We received some intelligence that the praetors of Tiberia's satellites have issued bounties on your heads." The Psilons glanced at each other and then back at her. "Have a good evening." She and her small entourage turned and left the empty restaurant.

Poseidon picked up his lukewarm cup of coffee and winced back a sip. "Bounties, huh?" He leaned against the back of the seat and stared at his younger brother. "Well?"

Zeus' head was hung low and his eyes were cast out of the window. He watched the large vehicle back out of the parking lot. He didn't answer.

"It could have been worse," Poseidon offered. "They could have asked us to stop our campaign against Tiberia."

Zeus picked his head up and nodded weakly. "That, at least, would have been understandable. They're the ones who fought so hard last time. They're fighting now. If war with Tiberia happens, they'd be fighting them again." He stretched and leaned against his chair, too. "No, I'd get it if that's what she wanted."

Poseidon shrugged. "We've been asked to pay rent before."

Zeus snorted and shook his head. "Caralo asked for medicine. And agriculture technology. We were happy to help them."

"Attica?"

Zeus rolled his eyes. "Oh, shit."

Poseidon laughed and leaned forward. "Remember that bureaucrat who kept bugging you? Kept saying we were using more power than we did?"

"He said we didn't ship enough computer processors..."

"He always showed up with that clipboard..."

Zeus pointed his finger at Poseidon and said, "I thought Hermes was going to kill him that one time he came, talking about all the Matrix bandwidth we used."

"Damn."

Zeus shook his head. "Attica was home, but... frak."

Silence. The lone employee who was paid to stay and keep the restaurant open for the meeting sneezed in the backroom. Poseidon looked toward the kitchen and said, "You want to go?" Zeus just nodded and stood.

As they drove away from the small port town of Kvenlan, Zeus leaned his face into his hand and looked out the passenger window. "How long do you think I can keep Daag at bay?"

Poseidon shrugged. "You can stall for awhile. Blame some delays on the bureaucracy of the Agency. And Attica. She'll get that."

They rode for a further five minutes in silence. The tall trees of the Great Forest made their drive as one through a green canyon. Poseidon leaned forward over the wheel, looking intently for the small dirt road. He saw it and turned.

The car's sides were perilously close to the tree trunks and the bumps forced the brothers side to side at a disorientating rate. "Damn."

Poseidon then turned left onto another dirt road and then into a thick group of evergreen trees. They slowly rolled under the protective metal netting and he pulled the vehicle over next to one of the dozens of tents and small shacks they had erected.

They walked toward the main structure when Zeus' wristband beeped. "I'll be in in a minute." Poseidon nodded and kept walking. He looked up at the sky. It was mostly obscured by trees but the rest of the view was hampered by the signal-dampening camouflage.

When he entered the single-room hut, Bia smiled and asked, "How did it go?"

Poseidon sighed and said, "They want FTL."

"You're kidding," Hermes said. Poseidon shook his head.

"Everywhere we go," Bia muttered, "someone wants something."

Poseidon looked toward the nearby monitor. The volume was low but the screen showed dozens of people breaking glass and looting food stores in Alabor. A fat politician denounced the violence.

The door to the building opened and Zeus entered. "Is it finished?" he asked.

Through the wristband, Ares answered, "Nearly. Another day and then I can come back."

"Good. Hurry." He tapped the glass and looked at the Psilons nearby. "That's three decoy sites now."

Hermes shook his head. "I'd be happier with six or seven."

"We take what we can get," Poseidon said. He walked over to the large table and stared at the map being weighted down. "Tiberian?"

Hermes looked at the different names and repositioned continents. "We take what we can get," he said dryly.

Poseidon smiled and Bia asked, "Do we have our next site picked out, just in case?"

Zeus put his finger in Thoria and dragged it over most of the world. "I was looking at a place in East Kanda." Poseidon nodded. "They have enough of a basic infrastructure for us. Signal maps for our transfers show everything should be fine in northern Illyria."

"Yeah, it should work," Hermes said. "But what about the decoy facility in Memfi?"

"I don't think it's a bad move to have a decoy so near a real location," Poseidon said. He was about to continue when Atlas burst into the room with an armful of papers and a computer slate.

He spilled his arms onto the table, knocking a stone away and causing the map to roll up. "Sorry, sorry."

"What is it?" Zeus asked.

Atlas straightened up and sighed. Smiling brightly, he said, "They're back." The others blinked and stared blankly before Atlas added, "The probes."

"Frak, I nearly forgot about them," Hermes said.

Zeus asked, "How many?"

"Six of the seven." They smiled and Atlas said, "I know. I can't wait to tell Hephaestus how well the FTL worked."

Poseidon crossed his arms and asked, "And the results?"

Before he finished the question, Atlas reached into the pile and pulled out several sheets of paper. They were black with space and dotted with stars. There were, however, a few blurry pictures of blue, red, green and yellow worlds. "Amazing."

Bia pushed a few papers around and asked, "I'm sure the Agency is pleased."

"Very." Atlas took out his computer panel and touched the glass. Several graphs appeared and he pointed to them. "The engines operated well within all parameters. They want to test them on bigger ships next."

Zeus lifted an image up and squinted at the planet. "How detailed are the reports? Can we see what's on these other worlds?"

Atlas nodded. "Of course. The data is still pretty raw." He laughed, "It just came in minutes ago."

Poseidon saw something in the way Zeus looked at the picture. His older brother squinted and asked, "What are you looking for?"

Zeus shook his head briefly and set the image down. He put his hands on his waist and said, "Habitable planets."

Atlas glanced from Zeus down to the pile of papers. "'Habitable?' Why?"

Poseidon understood and Zeus looked at him squarely. Without taking his eyes off Poseidon, Zeus said, "Maybe a new home."

"Whoa," Hermes said.

"Zeus," Bia began, "I don't think it will come to that."

He nodded and said, "I hope you're right. But... we can't run forever."

Poseidon sighed. "How many more times can we relocate our facilities? It's just not feasible."

"Exactly." Zeus seemed humbled and he kept his head low. He looked from Hermes to Atlas and then to Bia. "I'm not saying we leave tomorrow, just... with the Cylons invading more territories, with Typhon still out there, we have to have every possibility covered."

Quietly, Hermes said, "I understand."

"What about the ships?" Bia asked.

" _Olympus_ ' parts are laid out and under construction. It will be a while before they're ready for Huban to launch into orbit for final assembly." Zeus looked at Poseidon and said, "The other one?"

" _Lemuria_ is a little behind _Olympus_. We're still waiting on FTL parts from Hephaestus, too."

Bia nodded and then sighed. "Those are supposed to be ships of exploration, not lifeboats." She stared at the pile of papers and began to tug the map of Larsa out from underneath them. "I hope you're wrong. I can't imagine what it would take for us to... leave."

"Me either," Hermes said.

Zeus stepped away from the table and looked out of the small room's lone window. "Atlas, take that data to Hephaestus. He'll need it."

"Of course." He began to gather the papers again and said to Hermes, "There's some computer data in here, too."

"Good. I'll help you." The shorter Psilon lifted a stack of papers and began to follow Atlas out.

At the door, Atlas paused and turned slightly, saying, "I'll begin checking the data for habitable planets." Zeus nodded without looking at him. "A few more probes are scheduled to be launched soon, so that would mean even more possibilities."

"Good." Zeus turned and smiled weakly.

Bia backed away from the table. Poseidon nodded at her and she left the room, too.

The older brother seemed to feel his real age instead of his body's. He stretched his arms and walked toward the window before leaning against the wall. "What's happened?"

Zeus looked away from the glass for a second and then refocused his attention outside. "I was warned we might have a hard time getting our information to and from the Agency." He paused. "The Pact is gearing up to strike back." He shook his head and muttered, "They've squandered whatever good faith the Declaration of Rights bought them."

Poseidon nodded. "Cylons have plundered Scythia as much as they can. They've launched a few raids into Galatia."

"They've attacked Attican merchant vessels, too."

Poseidon inhaled and folded his arms across his chest. "And you think the war will ruin the world?" Zeus looked at him. "That we'd have to leave it to be happy?"

"You didn't see them." Zeus licked his lips and said, "The Cylons are as without discipline as the worst street gang. Even their leaders. They were given their own land but no guidance. No one was there to show them the... right way to live." He began to walk away from the window. "Yes, I think they won't stop until every Tiberian is dead. Maybe even every human. If I thought we could make an impact, I'd try to convince them otherwise, but..." He flopped his hands against his sides. "I had my suspicions before that things would go bad."

Poseidon stayed in his lean but he stared at the floor. "Will the ships be finished in time?"

"I hope so." Zeus stopped his amble and turned back slightly. His head lowered and he looked at the floor before speaking very quietly. "When _Olympus_ is ready, we need to get on."

Poseidon narrowed his eyes and said, "What?"

Zeus turned around fully and lifted his chin. It was a front, Poseidon could see that. Still, he spoke relatively confidently. "I want you, me, Hera, Hades, Ares... Demeter. I want us on that ship as soon as it's ready."

Poseidon shook his head. "You said it might not come down to that."

Zeus clasped his hands behind his back and spoke very clearly. "The Cylons will win. I have no doubt. They need only push and Tiberia will fall. The largest Pact nations, with the exception of Thoria, have never managed to rebuild their forces to the same point they were during the War of Expansion. The Cylons will win against them, too." His voice trailed off and then he spoke more quietly, "My conversation with the Caesar only confirmed the worst."

Poseidon simply blinked and then looked at the cracked door. Slowly, he moved toward it and spoke, "Why just the family? Why not everyone? Are there technical concerns with having multiple simultaneous transfers?"

"No, no. I'm not worried about the technology." Zeus shrugged and he lowered his chin. "I don't know. They seem reluctant. They don't believe that the end is coming." Poseidon pushed the door closed until it clicked. "They still have hope."

Poseidon scoffed and then smiled. "Why shouldn't we? We've survived this long. We've escaped from the Titans and Cylons before. Why not again?"

"And again? And again?" Zeus opened his mouth to speak but no words emerged.

"I think you're giving up on your friends too soon. Just because Bia doesn't think we'll have to flee doesn't mean she's not strong. Or that she's unworthy to come with us."

"No. I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

Zeus inhaled through his nose and stared at the ceiling. "I've thought a lot about family since my meeting with Cronus. I have a need... an urgent need to insure that my family is protected."

Poseidon stepped toward Zeus and put his hand on his little brother's shoulder. "We are protected. More than that, you've known them all every bit as long as you've known your blood." He put his second hand on Zeus' other shoulder and said, "We are all family."

Zeus looked deeply into Poseidon's eyes as though he were struck. Tears welled and he muttered. "Yes. You're right." He shook his head and then hugged his brother.

"We'll figure it out," Poseidon said. "We can make it work."
XC

**PROMETHEUS**

4 Years Before the End

Despite the door being shut on him, Prometheus remained outside the shelter. He pressed his ear against the crack and listened as closely as he could.

"We are protected," Poseidon said. He said something else but Prometheus didn't understand it as the cold wind blew past him. "We are all family."

Prometheus closed his eyes and stepped away. _Thank God for Poseidon_. Another thought entered his mind and he looked through the evergreen trees south. He zipped his jacket up to his chin, huddled his shoulders and began to walk.

_Leave us_ , he thought. _Zeus was seriously considering leaving Larsa without us_. He shook his head and stepped over the low wooden fence. _After all these years... We've followed him all around the world and he was going to leave us?!_

He kicked a pine cone and it bounced off a distant trunk. His feet crunched on old needles for several more meters before he emerged in a clearing by the old road. He looked in each direction and saw no vehicles. Prometheus turned right and walked along the shoulder.

_We pulled together after our parents died. I would have called him a friend._ He scoffed out loud and mumbled, "Didn't last." _He had his close friends. He stayed with his brothers and Hera._ He shook his head as he thought about the other women, too. _He's a bastard. In multiple ways_.

A car approached and Prometheus considered darting into the trees. If he had already been seen, though, it would be suspicious. He kept his head down and kept walking. The vehicle swept past him and he shivered in its breeze.

Prometheus began to think about what Zeus said. _He could be right about the Cylons. He's been right about the Titans. About Caesar. Attica and the Space Probe Agency._ He shook his head and said, "He's always right." _What if he's right about needing to leave?_ His pace slowed and he thought about the world's ending.

He looked up and saw the little building on the left. The paint was chipping and the small cupola on the roof seemed damaged. The sign looked in good order. It read, "Kvenlan Patarian Church of God," in both Thorian and Attican.

"'Patarian?'" Promethus said. He saw his breath billow forth in the moonlight and he shivered again. With a few steps, he crossed the road and slowly moved onto the small porch in front of the door. He knocked three times and heard nothing. He reluctantly withdrew his hand from his warm pocket and put it on the dull brass handle. With a push, the door opened.

Prometheus stepped inside. "Hello?" He said it again in Thorian. There was no answer.

He closed the door and moved to the front of the sanctuary. Above the dais hung a large wooden circle with a wooden rectangle dividing it vertically. It was the only symbol of the Median faith in the sparse sanctuary. He moved under it and saw a table filled with small candles. There was a book of matches next to a sign which read something in Thorian. Prometheus' grasp of the language wasn't firm enough to make it out.

After lighting the candles, he sat on the floor by them and rubbed his hands over the fires. He rocked back and forth and kept looking over his shoulder toward the door. He felt certain the priest would come in at some point and scream at him.

Prometheus rubbed his hands over the candles again. He looked up at the Median circle and wondered at its weight. Then he thought to the last time he was in a church of any kind. A century ago. A Synoptic cathedral in Fardan. It was opulent, adorned with gold and colored enamel. The priests wore flowing robes and carried bejeweled instruments. When they were still in Doria, he read about the Median faith and had a belief in God. He was comforted by the thought of an all-powerful being who watched over him. _After the loss of my parents, of course it was comforting._

He looked again at the hanging circle. The flame flickered shadows over the grain of the wood. His eyes ran along the surface of the rectangle that showed the middle path. The path to faith. Prometheus' throat clenched and he felt warmth wash over him. He gasped and thought again of the little boy, huddled with his older brother in the crawlspace as their parents' blood dripped between the floorboards.

_God_ , he prayed, _if you are truly here, if you love us as the books say, I need your help._ A tear fell over his cheek and he leaned back, bracing his shoulders on the first row of benches. _I don't know if I can trust all of the people I've known my whole life. War is coming, I'm sure, but I don't know who to follow._ He chuckled and shook his head. _Or if I should follow anyone_.

Behind him, the door creaked open.

Prometheus quickly stood and wiped his face. He tried to think of the Thorian words for "I'm sorry," but the visitor spoke first.

"Hello, Prometheus."

It was Themis, a Titan who looked every bit the same as his own mother. She had the same short, curly brown hair. She had the same full lips. She even wore glasses, which Prometheus remembered her wearing.

He staggered backward and bumped the table, tossing candles aside and spilling their wax. She noticed and took a step forward, but Prometheus took another back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

She lightly clasped her hands and held them in front of herself. "I got lucky. I saw you walking on the road as I drove."

His eyes remained wide and he shook his head once. "Why were you driving here in the first place?"

She took a single step forward. "Intelligence said the Olympians were hiding out in either Erlitoun or Thoria. I decided to check out Kvenlan. I knew Zeus was here once..."

Prometheus straightened up and tightened his fists. "You came to kill us?"

She seemed stunned. "No. Absolutely not. I knew Zeus was here because I've been searching for him, too, on my own. I came because I wanted to be the one to find you." She took a step forward. "I have no plans of telling anyone that I did."

He squinted and tilted his head. "Why?"

She smiled a little. "I came to get Zeus' help." Prometheus didn't move. Themis took another step forward and asked, "Why are you here?"

Involuntarily, he looked up toward the Median circle and then down at the floor. "I was having a... crisis of faith."

"Oh. In God?"

Prometheus briefly, quickly shook his head. "No. In Zeus."

Themis nodded and glanced around the sanctuary. "I won't pry, but I will say this. Zeus may be the best hope you have."

His head slowly rose and he flicked his eyebrows together briefly. "Really?"

She spoke as she stepped again. "Maybe the best hope for the world."

"How do you know that?"

"Because Cronus fears him. He won't admit it, but I can see it." Themis nodded and said, "Yes." There was a lengthy, heavy pause. Suddenly, Prometheus looked at her and marched the rest of the way across the sanctuary. She seemed surprised but she straightened up and said, "I can leave ..."

"No." Prometheus stood a little taller than she and he nervously looked at her face. He took a deep breath and asked, "May I hold you?"

Startled, Themis thought for a second and then nodded. Prometheus bent over and rested his head on her shoulder. His arms reached around her side and he pulled himself against her. Themis raised her hands awkwardly before deciding to place them on his back. When she did, Prometheus closed his eyes and wept.
XCI

**THE MESSENGERS**

4 Years Before the End

Every moment of every day saw the angel flitting about the world, planting ideas in one, diverting another. She helped a doctor's family flee to Eridia. She spurred on a Huban scientist's research into cryogenics. She stirred the nascent faith of an Attican politician. Yet she returned to the side of Corol Gaber. She had spent a century with this child's line. She could not bear to part with it near the end of all things.

"Heads down!" the sergeant said.

Corol complied. She pressed herself against the rubble and clapped her hand on her helmet to keep it in place. Cylon bullets ricocheted along the front of the supports and debris, but her squad was uninjured.

The Messenger felt her fear and gave her encouragement. "You will survive."

Corol sniffed and flipped the safety off her rifle. She crawled onto her belly and inched out from behind the pile. She lined her scope up with the destroyed vehicle down the street and waited for one of their black metal heads to appear. One did, and she squeezed the trigger.

A single high-caliber round left her barrel and almost instantly struck the Cylon, exploding. The machine twitched and staggered into the open where other members of her squad began to eagerly open fire.

"Get back," the being told her.

Corol leapt behind cover just as more Cylons stood and began to shoot. Two of her squadmates were hit. One died before he hit the ground.

"Watch it!" the sergeant yelled. "Frakking recruits!"

The tender felt his fear, too. Tyria's military was spread thin and volunteers were taken from all sectors of society. The Cylons poured forth across the ocean in unending numbers. Battles raged along the continent's southern coast. Corol joined to safeguard her home.

_My Lord_ , she prayed, _Please bless me and keep me. Let me stay safe and help my friends, too. If it is in your will and wisdom to give us victory, I thank you. I praise your holy name._

The tender smiled at her. Despite all she had been through – poverty, foster care, war – Corol maintained her faith. The angel was happy to reward her for it.

"You used to work at one of these places," Darro began. "Where should we look?"

"I don't know," Thon Ahljaela answered. "They've changed a lot in the ten years since I've worked in one."

"I've got something!"

The pair ran down the hallway and into an office. One of their comrades found a machine that was still on. "Excellent," Darro said. He pulled a datacube from his pocket and set it on the desk. "Take what you can and let's go."

Darro left the room and began shouting at the others. Thon stayed and looked over the woman's shoulder. "What's in there?"

"Intelligence files, spy programs," she said. "Things like that." Ahljaela nodded and she smiled, "Have you ever wondered what the government has on you?"

Thon raised his eyebrows and said, "What? No."

She laughed and said, "You might be surprised. I looked up mine once." She whistled and Ahljaela knelt beside her.

"Can we look me up?"

"Sure," she tilted her head, "but they'll know to look for you if we do."

He waved his hand dismissively and said, "They already are, I'm sure."

She typed on the panel for a moment and a circle irised open. "Whoa. There's a bunch of Ahljaelas here." She pressed a few lights on the screen and said, "Is your family from Gargamus?"

He nodded. "For generations. I don't know how far back, though."

"Well, this goes back more than a century." She pressed another button and then turned to face him. "They've been watching your family for a hundred and fifty years."

Thon's eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Why?"

She chuckled and said, "Don't know family history, huh?"

He shook his head. "No. No one ever talked about it, really."

She touched the screen and another circle opened. It was a photo of someone named Mar Dohl Ahljaela. "This is why they've been watching you. This guy, Mar, tried to start a labor coalition in a government factory way back then. They killed him for it."

Thon was stunned. He stared at the image of the long-dead man and felt as though he floated. His head swam and then he inhaled to enlarge his chest. Pride. That was something he hadn't felt too often. "What else?"

"Well, his son fell in line. He was a worker. Oh. And an informant. His son was a centurion. Some kind of hero... after he was an organizer for labor protests."

Thon smiled. "Another revolutionary."

"Yeah." She opened more digital circles and said, "His daughter was just a worker, but she was investigated for subversive postings on the Matrix. Her daughter was a soldier who also tried to organize coalitions in the factories where she worked."

He mumbled, "Grandma was a soldier?"

"Her son... still alive," she said.

"That's my father."

"Oh. Well, he's just an obedient worker, apparently. You... worker who disappeared. Suspected of joining 'rebellious elements.'" She laughed again and slapped his back. "Congratulations. It seems as though you're just the latest in a long line of bad figs."

Thon smiled and asked, "You can save those for me?"

"Sure."

He stood and ran into the hallway. Darro directed him toward a large column to place a charge. As he prepped the receiver, he smiled again and thought about all he had just learned. _'Bad figs,'_ he thought.

Minutes later, outside, Ahljaela twisted the wires into place. He brought the battery up to his chin and then nodded. Darro held his hand out steadily. Finally, he pointed. Thon connected the wires to the battery and a boom rocked the large buildings on the other side of the barricade. Thon saw Darro smile but he wanted to see for himself.

Cables of burning photosilicate flopped away. The datafarm's walls were peeling apart under the heat and servers sparked in the flames. A few cylinders of compressed cooling gases exploded, sending scraps of metal and chunks of datacubes high into the air. Darro ducked low and began to scurry away from the hill and Thon followed suit.

Like his female counterpart, the Messenger had grown attached to a line of human beings. He, too, appeared around the world to inspire people to make ready for the apocalypse. They didn't know about the plan, of course, but each cog played its part.

The being thought about the many disparate gears and how they needed to fit together. They had contingencies in place, but as the end neared, the Messenger began to worry.
XCII

**ZEUS**

4 Years Before the End

"This way," the Cylon soldier said.

Zeus and Bia followed it closely into the tunnel. Immediately, they began to stumble and grope for the walls. "It's too dark in here. We can't see."

The black soldier turned and said, "You cannot see?" It looked around and then said, "Your infrared vision is worse than I believed." A moment later, a light turned on, attached to its rifle. As the Cylon continued to walk, Zeus and Bia followed as best as they could.

After almost twenty minutes, they emerged in what appeared to be a quarry. The sky was black above and Zeus could tell by the faint grid that they, too, employed a signal-dampening net.

"The Council of Five is below," the soldier said.

The two Psilons followed it down a slope and then into a small cave. After several zig-zagging turns, they entered a large chamber lit with many colored beacons. The visitors squinted in the harsh light and they heard a familiar voice.

"Welcome back to Gela, Zeus and Bia." A large armored Cylon stalked toward them and continued, "I am Malaflees Carbanotto Blue Edair."

The Psilons bowed and Zeus said, "Greetings. I almost didn't recognize you."

"Yes!" Edair stepped back and spread its arms wide, admiring itself. Gone were the wispy metallic cape and its thin limbs. Now its arms and legs were thick beams. Its head was a large, harsh wedge and the contours of its armor were like ripples in a mirror. Its sensor ring was split in two, but the separate arcs were at a severe angle and glowed red, making the machine appear permanently angry.

Zeus looked behind the large Cylon and saw the rest of the Council of Five. Bevonal, the military unit, appeared much as it did before. The rest of the councilors were also newly clad in battle armor, making identifying them difficult. "We have come for two purposes."

"One of which we already know," Edair said.

Zeus nodded. "You have managed to convey multiple messages over the last few years. So we have come at your invitation."

Blue moved to speak, but another unit spoke from the table, "What is the second purpose?"

Angrily, Edair stomped around and yelled, "I am the leader!"

Bia sighed and said, "We have been asked to speak to you on behalf of the Pact of Nations."

"Ah, good," Edair answered. "We were friendly with some of their members for a time. We would like to be so again."

Zeus nodded. "Excellent."

"But they denied our request for aid in our time of need!" Bevonal said. "Their Declaration of Rights was hollow words and nothing more!"

The leader lurched toward the warrior and stopped itself. Bevonal didn't flinch. "What are the Pact of Nations' terms for us?" Blue asked.

Bia lifted her chin and said, "An immediate cessation of hostilities against any and all Pact members and withdrawal from their lands."

"Hmmmmm." Edair said, "The cessation of hostilies would be acceptable."

"We could focus our forces solely against the Tiberians," another unit said.

"But withdrawal," still another began.

"We cannot withdraw," Blue said with finality. "We have bases and need them for the war against Tiberia."

"I have a proposal," Bevonal said.

The leader turned and then all five stopped. No noise emanated from them at all, save the soft hum of their eyes. Edair lurched back and exclaimed, "Brilliant!" It turned to Zeus and Bia and clasped its hands in front of its torso. "We will withdraw our claim from foreign territories if the Pact of Nations joins us in our war against Tiberia."

Zeus' stomach sank and he slowly turned to Bia. Their expressions mirrored each other and she very subtlely shook her head. Zeus faced the Cylons and said, "I will convey the offer but... I can guarantee, with near certainty, that the Pact will not agree to this."

"Why not?!" Edair screamed.

Bevonal stood from behind the table. "Tiberia has warred with the Pact of Nations many times."

"True," Zeus nodded, "but those wars ended. There hasn't been armed conflict with Tiberia in a century. Cease fires were agreed to. For the Pact to break those agreements would be..."

"Unconscionable," Bia offered.

"Yes." Zeus looked at each of their faces, hoping to gauge some sort of response. He could not.

"That is unfortunate," Edair said.

"Hostilities will remain," Bevonal said.

"I am... sorry to hear that," Zeus said. "Is there anything the Pact could offer that would convince you to reconsider?"

"No. Our terms have been made known." The leader struck a new pose, jutting a large arm toward Zeus and Bia. "Now we come to the purpose for our invitations to you."

"Please," she said. "Go ahead."

A shining, golden unit from the table stood and began to speak. "We are aware that the Olympus Institute has managed to create a system with which superluminal speeds may be achieved."

Zeus closed his eyes. Bia didn't move but, finally, Zeus said, "You are correct."

Edair eagerly clasped its hands again and said, "We must have this technology. We do love technology."

"I understand," Bia said. "But..." she looked at Zeus for guidance.

"That technology is under the control and direction of the United Space Probe Agency. A group made up of Pact members."

The leader flicked its hands and said, "We know about that. We do not care about that."

Zeus shrugged and said, "Perhaps if Gela joined the Agency, the Pact would be able to share it."

Blue paused and took a step backward. "That is a thought."

Bevonal stood again and said, "To join the Agency, we would have to cease hostilities with the Pact of Nations, correct?" That idea had not occurred to Edair and, eagerly, it turned toward Zeus and Bia, awaiting their answer.

Zeus nodded. "Yes."

The Cylon angrily stomped again and said, "We will not cease hostilities unless they fight Tiberia, too!" It shook its head as if to clear its mind. Then it leaned forward and said, "The Olympus Institute developed the technology. You are able to give it to us despite the United Space Probe Agency."

Bia licked her lips and said, "We are hesitant to do so." Zeus inhaled sharply.

"Why?!" Blue screamed.

Bia maintained her composure and genially asked, "For what purpose do you wish to have an FTL system?"

The leader made an odd noise, somewhat akin to a grunt. "For travel. We would be able to appear at any point on Larsa instantaneously and deploy our soldiers."

"It could serve as a weapon itself," Bevonal said. "The energy a device of that nature employs must be great."

"Indeed," Edair said eagerly. "We could appear in Tiber and detonate the device right there."

"It would split the city apart," another Cylon said.

Bia's eyes had gone wide. Her mouth hung open though she did not speak.

Zeus, however, stepped forward and squared his jaw. "Absolutely not. We cannot give such a device to any group that would use it that way. Many millions would die."

"This is war!" Blue screamed and stomped forward. It leaned over, placing its face just centimeters from Zeus'. "Tiberians will die!"

Zeus shook his head and said, "No."

Edair backed away and flexed its arms. Another Cylon spoke from the table, saying, "We gave you our ionocraft technology."

"Yes!" the leader said. It excitedly stepped to Bia and said, "We gave you that technology as a gesture of friendship. It would only be fair for you to give us the technology we desire!"

Bia followed Zeus' example and raised her head. "No."

Edair screamed again and stalked away from the Psilons. It began to make metallic barking noises and it kicked at the rock walls of their meeting room. Bevonal walked around to the front of the table and said, "Perhaps we should take it from you."

Zeus shook his head. "You cannot. And we will not surrender it to you at any cost."

Blue straightened and slowly looked at them. "Then we will engage in hostilities with you!"

Before the echo of its voice decayed, it ran across the room and struck Bia in the face with the side of its arm. Her limp body cracked against the rock wall and collapsed while Zeus stared in horror. He began to look toward Edair, but the Cylon struck him, too.

In the wooden shelter that served as their transfer bay, Zeus popped open the lid on his tank. He looked around and caught sight of Bia sitting in her pod, too, wiping gel from her face.

"They frakking killed us," he said.

She nodded. "They did."

Zeus shook his head while a glob of goo dangled from his chin. "They are so... petty. Greedy. So angry. Angered near to insanity over the slightest thing."

Bia stood and pulled a towel from a nearby chair. "They're even worse than they were before. You're right. They're so singleminded. So selfish."

Zeus ignored her naked body and said, "Like humans."

"Well," she said, "some humans."

He thought back to his childhood home and seeing Cronus watching the news. He listened to his father talk about humans and their wars. "This is why we're better than them," he had said.

Bia leaned over her empty canister and bore a dour look on her face. "Zeus." He was shaken from his reverie and he turned toward her. "I'm... beginning to think you might be right about _Olympus_ and _Lemuria_."

He blinked a couple of times and then nodded. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"First thing in the morning, please see to it that their construction continues at a greater pace."

She nodded and said, "I will."
XCIII

**PROMETHEUS**

3 Years Before the End

"Do it," Arcas said.

Ares raised the rifle and shot him square in the forehead. His friend's body fell back and crumpled in the corner.

"Out," Zeus said. Prometheus and the other three Psilons ran from the tent while he gathered a few essential folders and data cubes.

Outside, Prometheus heard the distant thrumming of gyrocraft. "Any way to know whose it is?"

"Has to be Cylon," Ares said. "There's no way Thoria would abide Cronus and a Tiberian force coming here."

"What about some other humans?" Poseidon asked. "Trying to collect on those bounties like that group last month?"

Prometheus was about to interject when Zeus emerged from his tent and looked up through the signal netting.

"Any moment now," Ares said. Four large trucks sped away from the camp and deeper into the woods. "That's the last of the equipment. We can blow it."

Zeus nodded and walked toward a nearby group of people. He put his arm around Hera and said, "We are now in Code Black. Arcas is readying the _Paralus_ and the transfer equipment is on the way."

"The _Aetos_?" Dionysus asked.

"Coming," Ares said, "but we need to run. I don't think we can wait."

Dione sighed and Ersa asked, "How far is it again?"

Ares slung the rifle over his shoulder and lifted a large satchel. "Three kilometers."

Hermes' shoulders sagged and he exhaled forcefully to see his breath. "I guess we don't have a choice."

"No." Zeus started to run.

As more than twenty Olympians followed, Prometheus heard another sound. It was distant, but it was getting louder. He dodged a low branch and turned to Ares who was now stopped and bracing himself against a tree. "What is that?"

"Them."

A hundred meters away, dirt, sticks and pine needles were kicked up as a cohort of nearly five hundred Cylons ran into the campground. Prometheus gasped and Ares lifted a small device from his waist. He pressed a button and the shelter that had been the transfer bay exploded. Dozens of machines were thrown high into the air and into the trees.

"Go," Ares said.

Prometheus turned and ran as hard as he could. Soon, he was nearly caught up with the rest of the Olympians and Ares was even with him. He glanced over and saw him press two more buttons on his device. Behind them, two more huge explosions obliterated their campsite.

He tossed the metal box and said, "Let's hope that works."

Gyrocraft roared overhead and Zeus was yelling into a radio. "Arcas! Can you read me?"

"Go ahead," he answered.

"Once the equipment is loaded, you have to go! There's too many of them for you to wait for us!"

"Are you sure?"

Zeus nearly stumbled over a fallen tree but he said, "Yes. Go!"

Prometheus kept running. As he did, he thought about the various plans they had in place. They could fly out if the _Aetos_ reached them in time. They could split up and head into the foothills of the Baetican Mountains. They could separate even further and try to blend in with the population of Kvenlan. They could rent or steal a boat from there, too, and proceed to the rendezvous.

_Dear God_ , he prayed, _please allow us to get to the coast. Help us make it through today._

Again, Prometheus heard the metallic workings of Cylon warriors. He glanced behind himself but didn't see anything.

"Left," Zeus said.

The group moved through the trees after him and they emerged in a small open area on a hill. The _Aetos_ was there and the door was open.

"Go!" Zeus yelled.

Ares and Epimetheus stayed at the edge of the clearing and readied their rifles. Prometheus stayed near his brother and watched as Psilons poured into the shuttle. Two gyrocraft descended into view and the wash from their rotors blew debris into all their faces.

"Surrender to us, Zeus," a Cylon voice said. "You and your people will live."

Prometheus looked at Zeus and saw the white-haired leader staring defiantly into the air despite the wind. He pushed the backs of his people as they climbed inside the _Aetos_.

"Incoming!" Ares yelled.

Prometheus turned and saw several Cylons at nearby trees. They fired their weapons and the bullets tore splinters from the trunks. Ares was sprayed with wood, but he raised his heavy weapon and fired one shot. An explosive round hit one of the soldiers and its torso erupted.

Epimetheus began to fire his thirty-three caliber rifle. As the large rounds pinged and pierced the soldiers, he said, "Go!"

Prometheus started to run to the _Aetos_ , but the gyrocraft above began to fire. Its high-powered cannon rent the ground between him and the shuttle. The Psilons who hadn't gotten on board began to scatter and as they did, Eryx's back exploded in a red mist. His body fell into the brush.

"No!" Zeus screamed. He ran after him and two others tried to pull his body into the trees. The gyrocrafts' bullets again erupted and Zeus leapt into the forest. Prometheus was pinned down by a stump and he overheard Zeus on his radio. "Take off!"

The door to the _Aetos_ closed and its engines burned. The gyrocraft began to fire on it, but the rounds seemed to harmlessly bounce off. In an instant, the golden ship hovered and then blasted away. Its wings clipped the tops of several trees and its thrusters scorched and set alight the branches of evergreens behind it. The gyrocraft swirled about in its wake and tried to right themselves.

"Frak," Ares said. Prometheus turned toward him and saw that he and Epimetheus were backing away. Ares lowered his telescanner and said, "It's Typhon!"

Prometheus' eyes widened and his breathing ceased. He turned to the woods and saw nothing but pufts of dust and shards of bark from the Cylons' weapons fire.

Ares and Epimetheus began to run. Prometheus scrambled to his feet and began to run, as well. Zeus, Dionysus, Metis, Caerus, and Polemos were already tearing through the trees. Soon, they came to a single makeshift lane between the evergreens and turned to the north.

"Faster!" Ares yelled. Prometheus glanced back at him and saw that he was reaching into his satchel, pulling bricks of plastic explosives out and tapping the controls on them.

_Please, Lord, help me run_.

The cold air ached his lungs. His sides burned. Snot ran from his nose and around his mouth. Still, Prometheus ran.

A few moments later, the first of Ares' explosives detonated. Despite the boom, they heard the creaking of several trees as they fell across and behind them on their path. The gunfire ceased and a second device exploded. Prometheus looked at Ares again and saw him throw a third brick as hard as he could to the right. Ares then waved left. He and Epimetheus began to veer in that direction as Ares ran forward to get the others to follow.

A minute later, the third exploded far behind them. _I hope they go that way_.

"How much farther?" Dionysus asked. He was barely audible between gasps for air.

Almost as breathlessly, Zeus answered, "Not far."

Gyrocraft thrummed behind them but didn't seem to be getting closer. Soon, the trees began to thin and the ground filled with bushes and thick grass. The Psilons had to raise their legs higher to run and their speed diminished.

"Ocean!" Metis yelled. A moment later, the others ran out of the last group of trees and saw the waves crashing into rocks along a hill to their left. On their right, it was the outskirts of Kvenlan with a few docks jutting into the water. The beach near the rocks was bare with no visitors at this time of the year.

They began to walk toward the rocks and Zeus spoke into his communicator between deep gasps for air. Ares lifted his rifle and looked into the sky as Epimetheus looked toward the city.

Prometheus' side felt as though someone had driven a dagger deep inside his ribcage. He held the outside of his coat and kept walking, thinking that would somehow help. He was several meters away from the group when he turned around and saw a small group of Cylons emerge from the trees and into the rocks above. Standing next to them was a tall man he recognized as Typhon.

He turned and began to run when he heard the sound of something coming down the slope after him. It was like a Cylon, except this one was taller, had six arms and was colored blue.

Ares yelled, "Cylons!"

Prometheus dove into the dark sand and Epimetheus ran to his side. As the younger brother started to get up, Epimetheus fired his weapon at the blue machine, but his large projectiles did not damage that beast.

Ares fired explosive rounds at the regular Cylons which were now descending. Three of them were destroyed and fell onto the rocks. He tried firing at Typhon, but a white version of these super Cylons emerged and the explosive round only made it stumble back half a step.

Prometheus scrambled toward Zeus and Metis while Polemos fired his handgun uselessly at the blue machine. Then, sand was kicked into the air and the _Aetos_ quickly and roughly skidded onto the beach.

Zeus and Metis were the first in the door. Prometheus stood next to it and yelled, "Come on!"

Polemos tossed his spent weapon and dove inside. Both Ares and Epimetheus were backing away from the approaching blue super Cylon, firing their weapons. Bullets continued to bounce off its chest and Ares' rounds exploded along its armor, forcing it to step sideways once or twice. When Ares' rifle was empty, he ran for the shuttle. Epimetheus continued to fire.

"Come on!" Prometheus yelled again.

Epimetheus started to run backward. The large blue Cylon swept three of its limbs high into the air and brought them down on the Psilon. Two claws caught his side and lifted him up. The other three limbs raised next, and blades emerged from each one. While it ran toward the _Aetos_ , it brought its appendages together, slicing the helpless man in three.

Prometheus tried to yell and scramble from the ship, but Ares pulled him back.

"Take off!" Polemos yelled.

The golden ship tore away from the beach and air rushed around Prometheus' face. On the beach, the Cylons began to fire at them and Typhon stood atop the rocks, staring into the sky. The door slid shut and Ares propped Prometheus against the wall.

He sat still with his eyes wide open, shivering. Zeus knelt beside him and held him. "I am so sorry."

He opened his mouth and tried to speak but couldn't. Zeus' wristband illuminated and Prometheus looked toward it. He saw the name "Themis" displayed. Finally, he blinked and Zeus walked away.

Athena and Metis came to him next with blankets and tried to warm him up. He slumped against Metis' arm and stared at the floor of the shuttle while Zeus talked nearby.

"Thank you for the information, but it's too late, I'm afraid. No, not everyone. Two of us. Right." He walked toward the command stations and Polemos knelt beside him next.

He put his hand on Prometheus' leg and asked, "Is there anything I can get you?"

He blinked. Slowly, he sat up and blankly looked around. When he spoke, his voice cracked, but he powered through it. "There's a chance he made it, right?" Ares shook his head. "I know we're in Code Black," Prometheus said, "but Typhon was there."

Dionysus blinked and said, "Well, that's an idea."

Prometheus looked hopefully toward Leto and Ersa. He couldn't read their faces. He looked over at Athena and saw her pained expression. Her eyes were moist and he could tell that she was staying quiet for his sake. He shook his head and swallowed past the clenching of his throat. "Tell me the truth."

When Athena opened her mouth, a tear left her eye and fell to Prometheus' blanket. "After Zeus rescued the others from Cronus, we rewrote the transfer routines. They don't work the same way anymore."

"Typhon can't capture our signals," Metis added.

Stunned, Prometheus fell back against the shuttle's wall. He grew dizzy and felt himself heaving. He thought he was going to vomit, but he only coughed and gagged on his tears. He lay on the floor for a long time, covered in blankets. Someone held him and rubbed him. It was nearly an hour before he looked over and saw that it was Athena.

_God_ , he prayed, _why?!_ He grit his teeth and balled his fists. _Why did you spare us all except for my brother?_ He screamed the thought in his head over and over again and then felt guilty. _And Eryx._ He opened his eyes and looked across the cabin. He could see only the bases of chairs and people's feet. _Pride. Was I prideful?_

He had felt euphoric in the days after the visit from Themis. That she looked like his mother was almost immaterial. Prometheus couldn't help but feel that her arrival and her advice were divine answers to his prayers.

He became a believer again. He prayed daily. _But that was all I did. That wasn't enough, was it? I am surrounded by people who need guidance. They would crave guidance. I should have been doing more._ Prometheus closed his eyes and began to weep again.

He heard someone walking down the aisle. Then he heard Leto ask, "Who was that?"

Zeus spoke, "Themis. She just found out about the attack being planned. She didn't know it already happened. Apparently, Cronus tipped off the Cylons and he sent Typhon to help them."

Metis asked, "Are the Titans and the Cylons working together?"

"She doesn't know for certain. But... she gave me some information that could end our conflict." There were some gasps and Zeus said, "My father once told me that we're better than humans because we don't fight." He sighed and continued, "Well, there comes a time when we have to." He picked up a computer panel and began to press lights. "I have some work to do."
XCIV

**CAESAR**

3 Years Before the End

Before the vehicle came to a complete stop, Maxentius leapt from it and strode into the command tent. The officers and generals inside were stunned to see him and they jumped to their feet.

"Magister!" one said. "We just received word of your arrival."

He nodded. Maxentius was in his late twenties and he barely filled out the jungle fatigues he was issued. But he kept a sour look on his face and a rigid back. That and a loud voice usually helped.

"Where is my brother?"

A centurion saluted and darted from the tent. Maxentius clasped his hands behind his back and stood still. His eyes remained fixed on the map of Strand at the center of the room. The other officials fidgeted and looked at each other, hoping someone would be brave enough to speak. None were.

"Dominus," someone said behind him. Maxentius turned and saw the centurion. "Faustus Valerius."

The soldier was holding his brother up. Faustus' eyes seemed to be coated in a translucent film. Dark circles hung low beneath them. His skin was pale and covered in sweat. His hair was mussed and his shirt sleeves were dotted with blood in the crooks of the elbows, no doubt above injection sites.

Maxentius' shoulders fell and his stomach tightened. He turned toward the officers and said, "Give us the room." The centurion saluted and began to leave when Maxentius pointed at him, "You. Stand just outside."

"Of course, lord."

While generals, legates, tribunes, and more filtered out, Faustus struggled to stand erect. He blinked slowly and, somehow, he blinked one eye at a time. Maxentius simply stared.

"What have you done?"

Faustus took in a deep breath and then said nothing.

Maxentius rubbed his forehead and said, "Three thousand men. Three thousand, Faus!" His older brother didn't flinch. "Almost a whole legion!" He waited for some sort of reaction and got none. "A battleship and a dozen smaller vessels! Two entire wings!" Still nothing. "What have you been doing here? Shooting shit into your veins?"

Almost instinctively, Faustus glanced down at his arms and then looked back up.

Maxentius took a step forward and looked up into his brother's eyes. "Father entrusted this campaign to you. This was supposed to be your defining moment! This was to be the thing that solidified your position as heir!" Long silence.

Finally, Faustus shrugged and muttered, "I don't want to be here, Max."

He nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. "Well, congratulations. Your wish has come true." He looked toward the flap and barked, "Centurion!"

The soldier immediately stepped inside and saluted. "Lord."

"I need you to witness this." Maxentius straightened up and looked harshly at his brother. "Faustus Valerius, on behalf of Caesar Galerius the Fourth, you have been stripped of your title as Magister. The eagles and standards will be taken from your possession. The imperator has named myself, Maxentius Valerius, as Magister in your stead for the invasion of Strand." He relaxed a little and turned to the soldier. "Take him. Gather his things and get him to the airfield. A transport is waiting."

"Yes, lord."

"Then gather my kit and put it in his tent."

"Yes, lord." The centurion took Faustus by the elbow and began to leave the room.

Maxentius saw his older brother stumble and his heart sank. Suddenly, he leapt forward and pulled at a sweaty shirt sleeve. "Faus," he said, "please, get help."

The former magister smiled and blinked slowly. "You've already helped me." He staggered outside and while the younger brother stared at the ground, Faustus yelled back, "Thank you, Max."

Maxentius slowly moved toward the planning table at the center of the tent. He stared at the map and the various pieces, representing military units, scattered about. It reminded him of a tedious board game he used to play with Faustus. _I always won_ , he thought.

"Generals!" he yelled. Moments later, seven men and women walked back inside and saluted. A few tribunes and legates re-entered, too. "As you may know, I have been named Magister by the Caesar and have assumed command over this effort."

"Yes, lord."

"Congratulations, magister."

"Enough." Maxentius hovered over the map and said, "That is the final Attican line?"

"It is."

"How long have they been entrenched there?"

The generals looked to a battle-hardened legate. His gravely voice struggled to be heard, "Nearly two months."

"And that's fully within the dense jungle?" The legate nodded. Maxentius then hit the table and said, "Right. The Pact of Nations' customary endless deliberations continue but we have very little time before they decide to act. General-of-the-Air?" A severe-faced woman saluted and the magister said, "See to it that our planes are outfitted with firegel. How long will that take?"

"We have some in the fleet offshore. One day, lord."

"Good. Tomorrow at dawn, we will bomb the entire Attican line with firegel. Then, we move in with our legions and flush out whatever remains."

The general-of-the-air looked at her comrades and then back at Maxentius. "It will take some time to outfit the bombers..."

"Tomorrow," he said forcefully, "at dawn."

She saluted.

The next day, he was giddy. Maxentius stood in the command tent and watched footage from their bombers as huge swaths of the jungle burned. The smell drifted as far away as their camp. It was an intoxicating aroma.

"That's the last of the sorties," a general said.

Maxentius nodded and looked at the high legate, "Begin the march." He saluted and left.

While they waited, Maxentius' surreptitiously studied the faces of the other officers in the tent. They seemed ... disappointed. Concerned. Yes, the magister knew that firegel was considered cruel and brutal, but such things must be done to secure victory in such times.

"We've got him," a tribune said as he stormed into the tent. Seven hours ago, the march of the Tiberian legions began and they easily pushed their way into the scorched jungle. Thousands of bodies were found melted together in Attican ditches and bunkers. There was no real fight to be had.

Maxentius stood and said, "General Caraxas?" The tribune nodded and the young magister slapped his hands together. "Fantastic. Bring him here."

An hour later, the tribune returned with a centurion and the Attican general, bound and bleeding. He collapsed to his knees and Maxentius then saw the burns on his skin and the singed hair on his head.

"Have you been tended to?" Maxentius asked.

Caraxas lifted his head to speak, but as he inhaled, he began to cough and his throat quivered. He only shook his head.

"Get a medic in here. And water."

As he looked down at the middle-aged man, this revered commander of Attica's forces, Maxentius felt his chest tighten. At first he thought it was the smell of spent firegel on his clothes, or maybe the faint aroma of charred skin that clung to the general. Then the magister realized what it was. _This is defeat_ , he thought. _I must never allow myself to appear like this_.

A legate entered the tent and saluted. "Magister, we've rounded up the last of the surviving enemy. Strand is ours."

Maxentius inhaled deeply and smiled. He looked down at Caraxas and then bent low. "General," he said, "do you surrender?"

Slowly, the man lifted his darkened face and only glared at his captor. Maxentius waited but no real response came.

He stood again and gripped the handle of his sword. "Oh," he said, "does anyone have a tab?" A tribune stepped forward and took his communications device from a holster. "I want to send father a picture."

Maxentius removed his sword from its scabbard and held the flat edge of the blade below General Caraxas' chin. The magister turned toward the tribune and smiled at his device as he clicked a button.

Two hundred years later, Caesar Maxentius IX sat atop Palatine Hill in the open ruins of Tiber's most ancient structure, the home of the first emperor.

"My lord," an attendant said, "they are here."

Caesar nodded. He stood from his modern chair and looked toward the beautiful blue sky. From the top of this hill, much of Tiber could be seen. There was a lot of green, speckled with the colors of flowering plants. Shining, modern buildings towered along the river. The gray of the three thousand year old marble seemed to make everything else so vibrant.

"Lord Imperator, Princeps Senatus, Caesar Maxentius the Ninth," the attendant said. Two people approached from the old entrance and the attendant continued, "Attica's Prime Minister Dyseo Rodimus and Ambassador Ana Kotoros." They bowed low and Maxentius returned the courtesy.

"Please, sit," the emperor said.

The prime minister smiled and looked in awe at the remaining structure of the palace. "What a lovely setting. Why did you choose to meet here, if I may ask?"

Caesar shrugged as he waved over someone to offer his guests water. "I grew tired of my own palace. I feel as though I've spent years there. Caged." The man and woman sipped the water and then looked at the emperor, waiting. "I have called you here for a very simple yet difficult purpose."

The prime minister nodded. "I see."

Caesar watched a large bird fly under a series of ancient arches before he spoke again. "The Cylons are proving hardier foes than anyone could have guessed. Not only are they keeping my forces back, but they are continually invading and attacking Pact nations, too." The ambassador nodded this time. "I have secretly asked you here so that I may formally request an alliance with Attica and the Pact of Nations, in hopes that, together, we may defeat the Cylons."

The duo exchanged a quick glance before the prime minister looked back at Caesar and said, "I understand."

Before he could say anything else, the emperor raised his hand and continued, "In an effort to show how seriously I take the Cylon threat,... I offer the use of the island of Strand. After the Cylons' defeat, Attica may keep it." It pained Maxentius to say it, but he knew it was necessary.
XCV

**MNEMOSYNE**

2 Years Before the End

"We had been awake for years. We lived normally and they performed routine checkups on us. We were happy to tell them whatever they wanted, but it wasn't enough. They cut us open and did everything to us that you could think of. They sterilized us. They performed something close to vivisections, multiple times. Then they started testing our download signals." Mnemosyne's eyes grew blurry with tears and she shook her head, hoping to will it away.

"They started off pretty clinical. Quick gunshots. Euthanasia. Then they got cruel. Decapitations, blood loss. Stabbings." She cleared her throat. "They took me to the roof and threw me off once. I didn't die. I was a broken mess, but one of the doctors... Biv, came to me. He covered my mouth and said, 'Shh, shh. Go to sleep now.'"

Mnemosyne covered her face and turned toward the window. The bright sunlight streamed in through the sheer drapes. She widened her mouth and wiped her eyes as she sat up in bed. "When Cronus said he had a plan, I would have done anything to get out of there. And the Caesar, he seemed to genuinely care. He seemed to like us and he wanted our help. But he asked for it. He didn't take."

"I was happy to work and study and research for a while, but I decided I wanted more. The Caesar offered Naban to me after it was annexed but I didn't want that. He offered me Eshnu, too. A beautiful, quiet place. I live there sometimes... but he gave it to Themis. She governs it and Nandia fairly." She clicked her tongue and said, "I had no interest in being a praetor or ruling people or anything." Her shoulders rose and fell with her inhale and exhale. "I painted. I read. I lived a pretty good life away from Cronus and the others."

"I visited, every now and then," she tilted her head. "I missed some of them." Mnemosyne looked down at her arms and she fiddled with a fold in the sheet. "Some of them." She shook her head. "Being at BBM really frakked us up, you know? Coeus was never the same, of course. Cronus, you know. Iapetus, Hyperion, Tethys, Theia... they can be just as cruel."

She lay against the headboard and looked down at the other side of the bed. "I've lived a longer life than any human. I'm happy with most of it." Mnemosyne smiled a little. "I don't need to be immortal. If I don't wake up in a new body when this one wears out, that's fine." She sighed and continued, "I know what they've done. I know what they want from this war. It's not good. Not good for anyone." She licked her lips and then slid down toward the other pillow. "They need to be stopped. I've known that."

Zeus smirked and said, "So I didn't need to work so hard?"

Mnemosyne put her hand on his bare chest. "I'm glad you did. If you had just asked, I would have helped." She smiled, "But that's no fun."
XCVI

**TITANS**

2 Years Before the End

"I don't understand why I'm here," Crius said. He moved through the dimly lit corridor behind the huge man.

Typhon turned and said, "I asked for someone and you're who Cronus gave me." He shook his head and spoke loudly so his voice could echo in the sparse space. "If we find them, I will need you. And that." He pointed over his shoulder.

As they walked, Crius looked to his left and studied the burly frame of the metallic blue super Cylon that accompanied Typhon. It was exceedingly tall with an almost-cylindrical torso. Six arms were folded up along its circumference and its stocky legs caused it to lurch forward in an ungainly fashion. Crius knew better than to underestimate it. He had seen two of them in battle before. The destruction was incredible.

Typhon approached the main hatch and then stepped aside. Crius stopped and looked at the giant. "What?"

Typhon rolled his eyes. "Only Titans can access the download chamber."

"Oh," Crius said. "I thought you had access."

"I do not." Typhon watched Crius put his hand on the black circle. "An Olympian was spotted in Tiber and Cronus wants me to hunt them down, but he won't give me access to the resources I need."

"Hmph," Crius said. "That's Cronus for you." The panel flashed and the large doors slid open.

The hexagonal white room was expansive and twelve large canisters sat in the center, fanning out from a post which was illuminated with multicolored status lights. The brightness of the white gave the room a near-clinical feel and both Typhon and Crius stepped lightly inside. The super Cylon stayed in the corridor.

"Why do we think the Olympian would come here?" Crius asked.

"I'm not certain. But that's the intel Cronus received."

The Titan shook his head. "There's no telling if it's good or not."

"Oh, the intel is good," Ares said.

He stepped out from a wall control panel while aiming his rifle at the pair. Typhon smiled and was about to call his machine inside when he saw Arcas appear from behind another panel on the other side of the room.

"Greetings," Arcas said.

Typhon nodded. "Very good. A trap." Typhon looked into the hallway and waved. The super Cylon entered and saw the weapons. Immediately, its six arms deployed. On each side, there was one arm with an automatic weapon, one with a blade and another with a brutal metallic claw. Typhon tilted his head and said, "I need only give the word."

Ares smiled and said, "Me too." He looked toward the machine and said, "Briareus."

The super Cylon lowered its arms and snapped to attention.

Typhon's shoulders sagged and Crius' mouth fell open. He looked from the robot to Typhon and back again. "What just happened?"

Arcas smirked and said, "We took over your pet."

Ares moved toward the machine and said, "Kill Typhon."

The giant barely had time to widen his eyes. Two of the super Cylon's arms raised and fired into the man. Blood sprayed across the white room and splattered the glass of the canisters in the center.

Streaks of red ran down Crius' face and he stumbled backward. He backed himself against a control panel and he stared at Ares fearfully. "What are you going to do?"

"Wait a moment," Ares said.

Arcas stepped up and asked, "Does that thing have a flamethrower?"

Ares nodded and said, "Burn Typhon's body."

The blue machine retracted one of its blades and produced a nozzle. It aimed at the floor and blasted fire onto the bleeding corpse. His clothes distentegrated immediately and his skin blistered. Sizzling managed to be audible above the roar of the flames and the once-huge frame of a man contracted in a horrific fashion.

The super Cylon finished and replaced its nozzle. Arcas stepped as close to the still-burning body as he dared and fired three bullets into its head.

"Why the frak did you do that?" Crius yelled.

"I don't want him capturing our transfer signals," Arcas said.

Ares shrugged. "We don't think he can anymore, but we have to be sure."

Arcas removed a device from his waist and nodded. "Yeah, we're good."

Ares pointed a muscular arm toward Crius. "Don't move."

The Titan's graying body was thin and wiry compared to the son of Zeus. He looked toward the casks containing the backup copies of his comrades. He saw a Rhea, Oceanus, Themis, and Phoebe from where he stood. When he awakened here before, he usually emerged on the other side of the room. Crius looked over there, but he couldn't see into those pods.

Ares unzipped a large bag and the two Psilons began to remove gray bricks from it. They quickly criss-crossed the room, placing the devices in each of the six corners, at each control panel and then in the center around the Titans' spare bodies. As Arcas ran to the hatch and closed it, Ares pulled a small box from the bag and flipped a switch. A single green light illuminated.

Crius swallowed hard. He knew what was happening. He had to hope that they didn't know about their secondary facility in Cales. _When they blow up this room, I'll just awaken there_ , he thought.

Ares looked down at his wristband. "Two minutes."

Arcas sighed and stared at Crius. "I used to know you. Versions of you, of course." Crius didn't respond. "They were pretty much the same. Nice. Very nice and smart." Arcas chuckled and continued, "Dark sense of humor though. I loved being around him because I never knew what he was going to say."

Crius shuffled his feet and looked around the room. They were both holding rifles. Ares' bag was on the floor near the hatch. There was nothing around to fight with. _The Cylon_. He looked at the blue machine and said, "Briareus!"

It didn't respond.

Ares grinned and said, "We knew more than just its activation code. They've been reprogrammed, too." He looked at his wristband and said, "One minute."

Crius' seemed to crumple against the controls. He slumped and looked at the scorched floor and the pools of Typhon's blood.

"You were praetor of Arkaim for a time, right?" Arcas asked.

Absentmindedly, Crius nodded.

"During the Great Desert March?"

Crius blinked and slowly raised his head. "You wouldn't understand. You weren't there."

"Oh," Arcas said. "So being there, I'd understand why you forced a hundred thousand civilians to walk three hundred kilometers in the searing heat?"

"Enough," Ares said. He looked at Crius and took a few steps toward him. With a thick finger beneath his chin, the Olympian raised the Titan's face toward his. "If you have any sort of faith, now is the time. You will not be resurrecting again."

Crius brow furrowed and he said, "But..."

"Cales," Arcas interrupted. "We're already there."

The Titan inhaled sharply and pure, unadulterated fear rippled through him. He felt light headed. Adrenaline poured into his body and he tensed. He was ready to run... but where?

Ares straightened and glanced at Arcas. They nodded at each other and then the larger Psilon looked down at Crius. "The time of the Titans has ended."

Then he pressed the button.

Cronus smiled and surveyed the room. He was happy to have all of the Titans together again here in their home away from home in Cales. Well, except for Crius, who was hunting down Ares in Tiber. It made him long for the old days when they huddled together in the basement looking at computer screens, trying to solve this problem or that so they could download again.

"I don't mind working for the Caesar, I don't," Iapetus said. "It keeps me busy."

Tethys sipped her wine and said, "There are other ways to keep busy.

Phoebe nudged Mnemosyne's crossed leg. "You're painfully quiet."

She grinned and said, "My life just sounds so boring compared to everyone else's. You're praetors and advisers. I just read and play music all day."

Coeus slowly turned his face but his eyes never focused on them. His lips parted slowly and he said, very softly, "That sounds nice."

Mnemosyne stared at his vacant expression before Coeus turned away again. Then she felt a pang of guilt.

Cronus saw. He watched Coeus' eyes glaze over as he reentered his own world. Cronus looked down at his drink and remembered a conversation with the Caesar decades ago. Coeus was being brutal... too brutal even for Cronus' purposes. It didn't take much cajoling for the emperor to take away the disturbed Titan's praetorship.

"What's the matter?" Campe asked as she stroked Cronus' face.

He smiled again and said, "Nothing, love. I'm just thinking." She kissed his cheek and then placed her face on his shoulder.

The door slid open and two of Cronus' super Cylons walked in. Their weapon limbs were deployed.

Cronus looked at them with raised eyebrows and stood. The other Titans stopped what they were doing, too. "What's going on?"

Zeus, wearing a fine dark gray suit, stepped between the two units.

Cronus inhaled sharply. "What are you doing here?"

Campe leapt off the couch and smiled. "Want me to get him?"

Zeus glanced to the white-colored robot on his left. "Gyes?" Then the green-colored one on this right. "Cottus?"

Cronus took a step backward. "How the frak..."

Zeus pointed at Campe. "Kill her."

Before the machine could maneuver, she ran across the room and jumped atop the green Cylon. She was prying its head aside when the white one sliced her with two of its knife arms. A third blade from Cottus drove up and through her torso. With a wet thud, she was tossed aside.

Cronus balled his fists and took a step toward the door. He ground his teeth and felt dizzy with rage.

"Zeus," Iapetus said, "I'm placing you under arrest."

The Psilon raised a single eyebrow. "I find that unlikely." He looked around the room and took another step inside. The door closed behind him.

"I have my giants," Cronus said. "They'll be coming for you."

"No, they won't." Zeus pointed at Campe and said, "Hers is not the first blood they've spilled today."

Hyperion was furious. He stood up and pushed his chair away. "Frakking enough!" He turned toward Cronus and then the others. "We can take him!"

Theia stood and cracked her knuckles. "We can."

Mnemosyne looked worriedly toward Zeus and then she glanced at Themis. She had her hands folded in front of her face and she was watching the proceedings through her spectacles. Rhea leaned back in her chair and breathed rapidly through her nose.

Zeus held up a finger and looked at his wristband. "Pause that, please."

The Titans were confused and looked at each other. Zeus smiled and then clasped his hands behind his back. Hyperion grunted and began to stalk toward the intruder when something shook the room. A loud boom seemed to emanate from everywhere, followed by muffled alarms.

Cronus looked around and his mind raced. Then his heart sank. "What have you done?"

"I've made you mortal."

Hyperion paused and looked at Iapetus. "What does he mean?"

The war consul's head hung low and he said, "That was our resurrection bay."

Several Titans gasped and Tethys stood. "How dare you!"

"How dare you!" Zeus erupted. "You have hunted my people for a century!" Whatever composure the Psilon had was now gone. "You killed our parents! You killed our brothers and sisters... when we were children! That was not sufficient for you," he turned to Cronus. "We have been on the run ever since. You killed more of us, you abducted us, and you have the temerity to ask why?"

Hyperion twitched and Oceanus put his hand on his shoulder. "We understand, Zeus. But you need to understand, too. You have been making our lives difficult for years."

"Yes. 'Difficult.' We made it harder for you to keep your populations in line."

Tethys leaned across a table, frowning, and pleaded, "Zeus, you weren't there at BBM in the beginning. It was horrible. We had to..."

Zeus waved his hand. "I know. I've heard all about it from him, here, in this room." He pointed at Cronus. "You had me feeling almost sorry for you. Then you all put bounties on our heads, making us dodge greedy human hunting parties. You sent the Cylons after us. You gave them information about us in exchange for these things," he motioned toward the super Cylons, "right?" Zeus shook his head. "No, fickle Tethys. You can't sway me with your wide eyes."

She grimaced and then pounded the tabletop. "You're a frakking bastard! Cruel!"

"There she is." Zeus mockingly applauded. "Please, 'Butcher of Ghattaffan,' tell me about cruelty."

"Enough!" Cronus' bark reverberated in the stone-walled chamber and he took a step toward Zeus. "You have no sway over us."

"That's right," Theia said.

Zeus smiled. "Really?" He tapped his wristband and said, "Ares." It beeped. A moment later, his son's voice came from the device.

"Yes?"

Without taking his eyes off the Titans, Zeus asked, "Status?"

"I'm home. It's done."

"Good work." He tapped the band again and put his arms behind him.

Phoebe exhaled loudly and mumbled. "I knew it."

"Oh no." Oceanus moved away from the others and pressed himself against the wall. "Oh no!"

Cronus' eyes were becoming fuzzy and he staggered back. Softly, he asked, "How?"

"You never had children," Zeus began, "so I wouldn't expect you to understand, but most parents are pleased when their offspring excel where they did not."

Hyperion began to shake his head. He pounded his fists against his sides and then yelled, "No!" He ran across the room.

Zeus simply said, "Kill him." The two super Cylons complied.

When Hyperion's bloody body was thrown against the wall, there was much wailing from the Titans. Phoebe fell to her knees, crying. Oceanus pounded on the walls as though that would get him out. Theia held her face in her hands and Tethys began pacing rapidly in a small area behind her chair. Coeus simply stared ahead, blankly.

Iapetus nodded and walked around the corner of a table. "Very good. You have outwitted us at every turn and this is... the final blow. Congratulations."

Zeus bowed his head slightly. "Thank you."

"You have crippled us, utterly." He motioned toward Hyperion's corpse and said, "You have killed one of us, permanently."

"Two. Crius was in Tiber," Zeus interrupted.

"I ask that you do something that we have not excelled at, as you might put it. Mercy." Zeus grinned. Iapetus spread his arms wide. "We are certainly at yours."

"You are, but do you think I should trust the words of 'Caesar's Worm?'" Iapetus bit the inside of his cheek. "Perhaps I should ask the people of Ordoga and Tyria what they think."

"That was long ago," he answered.

"And we're still here," Zeus said. "You know, when I talked to the Caesar a few years ago, he said he wouldn't be terribly upset if we won against you." Some of the Titans exchanged glances. "Oh, he appreciated all that you did for him, personally, and Tiberia, but he was sick of dealing with everything else about you."

"Zeus," Iapetus began.

He interrupted by clapping his hands. "Everyone against the wall." None of the Titans complied. "Now!" A few began to stumble toward the polished stone. Oceanus was already there. He turned, bracing his back against it and sobbing loudly. Zeus looked toward Themis and Mnemosyne who were standing still. "Move!"

They exchanged a look and then Mnemosyne felt sick to her stomach. She found that putting one foot in front of the other was nearly impossible. Rhea came to her side and guided her to a spot along the wall in a corner. Once she was there, Mnemosyne leaned into it and stared at the ceiling while tears fell over her cheeks.

"Please!"

"Don't do this!"

"Zeus!"

"Frak you, Zeus," Thethys said. "Straight to Tartarus."

Zeus nodded and then puffed out his chest. "For crimes against humanity, for excessive cruelty,..."

"No!"

"For the murders of our parents, our siblings, our friends,..."

"Stop!

"For the deaths of over twenty-six million people put in your care," Zeus paused and took in a slow, deep breath, "I sentence you to die."

Two of the Titans fell to their knees, screaming. Oceanus slammed his head against the wall, wailing. Iapetus was rigid, facing outward like a good soldier. Coeus nodded once and then smiled. Cronus stood still and glared at Zeus, but the Psilon didn't see him.

He turned to the super Cylons and said, "Cottus, Gyes. As we discussed. Open fire."

Each unit raised four limbs with automatic weapons embedded therein. Almost instantaneously, they took aim, fired, and then found the next target. It happened so quickly that six Titans fell by sixty-four bullets in what sounded like a single burst.

Cronus opened his eyes and saw that the machines were standing down. He exhaled loudly and gasped for air. Sweat fell from his hairline and he slowly, apprehensively, looked to his right at his fallen comrades. They were primarily in a bleeding lump. There was no movement save for the slight ripples in a puddle of blood caused by the diminishing spurts of Theia's neck wound. After staring for several seconds, Cronus looked up and realized that Themis, Rhea, and Mnemosyne were still standing.

"What..." He furrowed his brow in confusion and glanced among the three of them before turning toward Zeus, who was now slowly walking toward him.

"Oh, they helped me." Tremors wracked Cronus' head and his eyes widened. "You didn't know?"

He looked at the trio again and said, "No."

Zeus reached into his coat and removed a handgun. "For one last time," he aimed it squarely at Cronus' forehead, "you disappoint me." With as much disgust as he could muster, Zeus added, "'Father.'" Then he pulled the trigger.

Mnemosyne gasped and slumped down the wall. Themis took her arm and tried to stand her up. "Please," she mumbled.

"What?" Themis asked.

"No, no, no." Zeus ran to her side and put his arms around her. "It was part of the act. I'm so sorry. I thought you knew."

She slowly rose and looked at Rhea and then Themis. "I didn't." She sniffled and wiped her eyes. She almost looked down at the carnage but she turned away.

Zeus looked at the super Cylons and said, "Phase three. Go." The door opened and both the white and green units ran into the corridor. After the door closed again, the muffled sounds of machine gun fire were easily heard.

Zeus and the three remaining Titans waited a moment and then moved into the empty hallway. Gunshots echoed from far away and they walked toward the nearby lift. They rode up and up for some time before emerging at the airfield. There, the green super Cylon was rampaging, destroying planes and shooting any soldier that came within view.

Zeus and the Titans stepped out of the lift and walked toward the cliffs. He moved near the edge and looked down at the sharp rocks as waves crashed into them. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and removed a metal box. He flipped a switch and then pressed a button.

They saw the cliffs far below them explode at the water line. As they heard the blast, the ground shook, too. The Etruian Ocean began to pour inside the Titans' base.

Zeus tossed the device off the cliff and he turned to Themis. He bowed slightly and said, "Thank you. For everything."

She smiled and said, "No, thank you."

He leaned forward and hugged Mnemosyne tightly. She smiled and said, "So what's next?"

Zeus shrugged and pointed toward the sea. "Go live your life. However you want." He then looked at Rhea. He seemed to have been avoiding eye contact and his throat appeared to clench. Finally, he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the ocean, "Thank you."

Rhea, the Titan version of his mother, nodded once and said, "You're welcome."
XCVII

**THE MESSENGERS**

2 Years Before the End

Thon Ahljaela walked away from the table and yelled toward the wall, "What do you mean they won't come?"

Darro shrugged his shoulders and said, "They just won't. I've asked many times now."

"But why?" another resistance member asked.

Thon nodded. "They've helped so much over the years. Why won't they come?"

Darro leaned forward and said, "I talked to Zeus himself. He told me... he said they believe the Cylons are the real threat right now."

Thon kicked the leg of a chair and the Messenger whispered into his ear. "Calm."

"Since the Pact and Tiberia are allied against the Cylons," Darro continued, "he's afraid that maintaining the fight against Caesar would damage the effort against the Cylons."

"But things are even worse now!" Thon said.

"I told him that."

"Caesar has drafted everyone he can who's under forty! The elderly and wounded are forced to work in power plants and Matrix farms. And there are millions! Millions of patties doing nothing but dancing around in their metal bodies or living on the Matrix!"

Darro nodded. "I know. He said once the Cylons are dealt with, we can resume our 'relationship,' as he put it."

"Frak him!" Ahljaela yelled.

The tender looked at his person of interest and again whispered to him to calm down. The being saw the angry heat ebb within him and Thon propped himself against the wall while the meeting carried on.

The Messenger then moved to Gela where he sought a particular Cylon leader around whom many future echoes swirled. The unit was an old one and it was powerful in these times of war.

Bevonal's armor was bulky and a dull metal. Its eye ring glowed red and circled quickly as it studied maps projected on the wall. Its lieutenants had been told to leave it be, so the tender decided to appear to the unit.

_But what form?_ He searched the machine's memories and thought better of appearing as a comrade centurion. Finally, he found a humanoid he believed the leader would respect.

"Greetings, Bevonal," Cronus said.

The unit glanced toward him, tilted his head and went back to the maps.

The being was confused. He tried to fine tune his energy and made himself even more substantial. _Their sentience is not the same as the humans'_.

"Greetings, Bevonal," Cronus said.

The Cylon whipped around and produced a weapon from its arm's mechanism. "How did you get here?"

"I am not really here," he said. "Think of me as a projection." The Cylon retracted its gun. "Do you recognize me?"

"You are the Psilon, Cronus."

"I am." The Messenger could still see the future spiraling toward this unit and he planned out all that he could say carefully. "How goes the war?"

"Our forces have managed to rebuff the advances of the combined Tiberian and Pact armies. We have established seven command posts and territories on mainland Isinnia, three in Eridia and one in Badaria. We are readying forces for a major offensive on Badarian bases, as well." As Cronus nodded, the Cylon said, "Do you have new information for us on Zeus' whereabouts?"

"Not this time, I'm afraid." Cronus stepped forward and said, "I do have other information that may help, though." The Cylon stared with its circling red eye. It made no other movement or sound. "I believe that a major attack is coming from the Caesar. I don't have any details, really, but I know this: you must not retaliate in kind."

The machine did not respond. After five long seconds, Bevonal said, "I do not understand but I will take this under advisement."

Cronus said, "This is very serious. If your people respond similarly, you will not survive."

"Understood."

The Messenger could see through the nearest future echoes that nothing had been improved by this conversation. Nothing was made worse, either. Still, further interaction would be pointless. _Cylons are not as malleable as the humans are . They're not as susceptible to our manipulations._ He could see that.

Attican President Berenice Callis sat at her desk, looking at her visitor. "Thank you for joining me."

Philip Anaxo nodded and said, "Of course, Madam President."

The Messenger stood by her and smiled at the striking form of the officer. She bent low and whispered in the president's ear.

"What are you doing?" the male tender asked.

The female rose and said, "Guiding, as I have for some time."

The being looked at Callis and said, "I have guided this one also. She is involved in their technology."

"And I helped make her president of this nation."

"Are you a man of faith, Captain Anaxo?" Callis asked.

Slowly, Anaxo nodded. "Yes, Madam President. I am."

"Good," she smiled. She pulled a book from her desk and handed it to him. "I have something very important that I need you to do."

"Anything, of course."

The male tender asked his companion, "What does faith have to do with their mission? That was not part of her purpose."

"It is now," she answered. "She was raised in the faith. I have used it to drive her. To give the plan more urgency."

Callis said, "I fear that the war with the Cylons will not end well. We've allied with Tiber and the other nations, but now Zeus and his people are involved... everything's floating too much right now." She tapped the cover of the book. "This is the _Draco_. A cryogenic ship. More than a hundred people can be frozen on it and awakened when the time is right."

Anaxo's eyebrows shot up and he began to flip through the book. "I see."

"It's the first of many ships, we hope. I don't know how long we can keep them a secret. Officially, their mission is simple: get your payload of scientists, doctors, and whoever else away from the warzone and then back here once it is safe."

"Wait," Phil said as he lifted a hand. "'Back here?'"

The Messengers smiled. This part of their operation was successful.

Callis nodded. "This is home, captain. Regardless of how badly the war goes, there will be survivors. We owe it to ourselves and our descendents to make this planet home again." Anaxo narrowed his gaze and she continued, "When you awaken your payload, they will help whatever is left of humanity pick up the pieces."

Anaxo nodded. "Makes sense, Madam President."

"That's not all." She paused and leaned against the edge of her desk. "My personal orders to you will include one more that's not in the book."

"I see."

She wiped her cheek and then ran her hand on her leg. "You and your crew will also sow the seeds of faith among humanity's survivors."

"I don't understand."

The male tender moved to the side of the female. "We did not discuss this. Faith is not required for survival."

"It is not," she answered. "But it may help bind the survivors together. I have seen faith give rise to greatness in them. They aspire to be more than they are. Faith has given them comfort as well as motivation."

The male shook his head. "And I have seen fear do much the same. Motivation, resilience. Their animal instincts for survival become engaged."

"You will teach the people that survive about our god." Callis licked her lips. For the first time during the meeting, she looked nervous. "Assuming that the faith itself doesn't survive the war, of course, I want you to spread the word of the Great One."

Anaxo grinned a little and said, "You're Aneipotan, too, Madam President?"

She tilted her head and said, "I was raised in that sect, yes." She stood and moved toward the captain. "I have been immersed in science nearly all of my life. I grew to think that religion was an ancient crutch." Callis shook her head and opened her mouth to speak. She closed it and then sat in a chair next to Anaxo. "Operation Preserve might be the thing to save us all." He looked down at the book dedicated to the _Draco_. "I have seen things, captain. Like dreams. I am certain that we are not long for this world."

The female Messenger motioned toward her and said, "Do you see what your fear has done?"

"It spurred her to action."

"It plagues her."

The male tender looked into her mind and said, "It depends on the individual. Perhaps fear alone would have worked. Perhaps faith alone. Regardless, the two together appear to have accomplished our goals. The ship is being prepared and it will launch."

The female being looked skyward and said, "I see other ships, too."

The male waved his hand. "Their echoes are faint. I believe the likelihood of their survival is small." He nodded toward Anaxo. "We should focus on this one and the _Draco_."
XCVIII

**LETO**

1 Year Before the End

"This is Zeus, terrorist leader of a group called 'The Olympians,'" the monitor announced. The Psilons watched intently as an old picture flashed on screen. "They are wanted for crimes against the state and murder. Caesar Maxentius the Ninth is offering a substantial reward for their capture. If you have seen any of these people, please contact your local magistrate's office..." Poseidon muted the volume.

"I thought you said Caesar seemed pleasant and easy going," Hades asked.

Arcas chuckled, "Have you not read your history?"

"Well," Hades said, "you told me the Caesar wouldn't be upset if the Titans were gone."

Zeus nodded. "True. It's possible that this manhunt is a farce. We killed most of his praetors. His war consul. He had to put on some sort of show of force for his advisers. He couldn't just let those assassinations go."

"You said he needed us," Hera added. "Doesn't this risk losing us?"

Zeus shrugged. "I don't know."

As he walked toward the bar, Dionysus put down his empty glass. "When did you last talk to Rhea?"

"Last week." He poured wine into a cup and took a big gulp. "She said nothing's changed and we can still stay as long as we want."

"The ships?" Atlas asked. "Any word from Bia?"

Zeus sighed. "Nothing new. She told me everything is going according to schedule so far."

Leto simply watched him. She saw his shoulders slump and the slow way he blinked. She knew he was tired. She could hear it in his voice.

"What's to stop Huban or Attica from cashing in on us?" Ersa asked. "They could turn us over in an instant."

Zeus nodded. "They could, but..."

"Politics," Antaeus said. "If they did, then the Atticans or whoever would have to admit that they had been helping us."

Dione added, "And given the alliance between them and Tiberia, it could make things difficult."

"All true." Zeus raised his glass toward them and took another sip.

_He's been drinking more_ , Leto thought.

"Look," Zeus said. "This is supposed to be a casual get together. No more business."

Many of the Olympians chuckled and began to mill around. Leto slowly stood and walked toward the bar where she got a drink, too. She saw Hera pouring herself something, so Leto held back, nibbling a few crackers from a bowl. When Zeus' wife left, she stepped forward and got a little bit of white wine.

"The stresses are all minimal," Hephaestus said.

"Less than two percent?" Atlas asked.

"Yes indeed."

Leto smiled and shook her head. They couldn't not talk about work. She sat on a small chair and looked across the floor toward Zeus. He was looking right at her. A charge ran through her skin and she grinned very briefly. Then she turned and pretended to be interested in Hephaestus' FTL talk.

Hephaestus coughed and asked, "What about your probes? Anything new on the probes?"

Atlas swallowed the last of his liquor and said, "Yes. I showed Zeus earlier today. There's one really great planet on the other side of a big star cluster. It's a long ride, though."

"Nice planet?" Hephaestus asked.

Atlas nodded. "Earth. That's what he called it." He tipped his glass toward Zeus. Leto looked at him and saw that he was looking at her again. Or was that still? She began to feel self-conscious. Leto stood and went to the other sofa nearer the bar. There, Hermes and Metis were talking.

"It doesn't matter if Caesar can or not," Hermes said. "His technology is the same kind that they were made with. The point is, we can't get in."

Metis said, "And if we could, there's nothing to say we could craft a bug to bring them down."

"Exactly." Hermes looked around the room and said, "That's if we even should."

Metis sniffed and said, "Oh, you're on Prometheus' side with that, huh?"

Hermes shrugged and said, "If they're sentient beings like we think they are, it'd be genocide, right?"

Leto looked at both of them and said, "If Cylons are going to kill everyone on Larsa, they should be stopped."

"Agreed." Metis nodded and popped a few bite-sized crackers into her mouth.

"Well," Hermes said, "that's _if_ that's what they're really going to do."

Leto looked toward Zeus again and saw that he was talking to Dionysus. _I wonder if he knows_. They talked normally for a moment and then the larger brown-haired man laughed. Zeus chuckled and looked away. Hera seemed angry, though. She stood and stalked toward the bar again with a stern look on her face. Instinctively, Leto looked around the room for Dionysus' mother, Semele. She was in a far corner, talking to Aphrodite.

Dionysus stood and staggered backward half a step. Zeus grabbed his son's arm and steadied him. "What?" Dionysus barked. "All I said was it looks like she's permanently sucking lemons."

Leto heard Hera inhale sharply. She reached over the counter and pulled an empty bottle from the shelf and she quickly turned back around and strode toward Dionysus.

"Shit," Hermes leapt off the sofa and darted between furniture and chatting Psilons. Hera was almost within striking distance when he caught her arm and yanked the bottle from her hand. Zeus stood and began to wave his hands and Dionysus only laughed.

"I don't know why that's pissed you off so much!"

Hera balled her fists and struggled against Hermes and now Zeus. "You tell that bastard! Your bastard! To shut the frak up!"

Leto's eyes widened and she looked at drunken Dionysus. He was still smiling and didn't seem to process what she said.

"Hera," Zeus said, "I think it's time for you to go."

"Yes it is." She jerked her hands away from Hermes and stepped back. Zeus moved toward her to guide her out, but she reared back and slapped him as hard as she could. The sound of that smack stopped everything in the cabin. Hera stalked out of the room and it was several seconds after her departure before small talk resumed.

Leto watched Zeus stand there in the middle of the floor, staring at the door. Dionysus had already moved along to another glass of wine. A moment later, Zeus turned and caught Leto's gaze. She quickly looked away.

She leaned back against the cushion, hoping to conceal herself somewhat behind a lamp. She only halfheartedly tried to listen to Hermes, Metis, Antero, and Ersa talk about computers.

"At least the new download protocols are in place," Metis said.

"No more Code Blacks," Hermes added as he sipped his drink.

Antero nodded and looked off to the side. "Too late for Eryx. Epimetheus."

No one responded. Leto looked around the room while still trying to avoid Zeus' gaze.

"What about children?" Ersa asked. Slowly, Leto turned and faced the others.

Metis shook her head. "They still can't be scanned and added to the transfer roster until they reach cerebral maturity."

Hermes downed the rest of his drink and stood. "Twenty-five."

"Yes." Metis shrugged and said, "Given the stress of our current daily lives, I don't think anyone's considering children right now, anyway."

Seeking an escape from the conversation, Leto turned around. Ares, Belus, and Arcas were talking about sports on the other side of the lamp. Dionysus was now raucously talking to Poseidon about some movie he was watching. It seemed that the party had moved on. Zeus had not.

He sat in his chair with an empty cup. He set it down and then placed his face in his hands. After a few minutes of that, he straightened and then roughly scratched his white hair. He stared at the door. No one tried to talk to him.

Leto sipped her wine as she watched Zeus. She tried to tell herself to go over there. She couldn't do it. At one point, she managed to put both feet on the floor in preparation for standing, but then Hades sat next to Zeus and started talking to him. Leto relaxed her muscles and allowed herself to sink back into the sofa.

After another hour, half of the Psilons left the cabin. The remainder were paired off and chatting quietly. Zeus sat alone, sipping from his cup. When Hermes stood and left, she was alone on the couch. She sighed and decided to finally leave. She began to pass Zeus on her way out and instead of walking by, she slowed, looked down, and asked, "Can I get you something?"

He was almost surprised by the question. "Some more water, please."

She smiled and took his cup. She refilled it and got some water herself. Leto took it to him and then began to debate whether she should go ahead and leave.

"Sit."

Leto swallowed hard and then stepped around an end table before sitting in a cloth chair. As part of her standard conversation routine, she asked, "How are you?" She regretted it as soon as she said it.

Zeus chuckled. "I'm fine."

She nodded and watched as Antero and Macaria left together holding hands. After several moments of silence, she said, "I don't really know what to say." Zeus looked up. Leto stared into his bright blue eyes and she melted a little. He seemed so tired but there was warmth there. She could feel it.

Hephestus and Aphrodite left. Zeus nodded toward them. He turned and caught sight of Belus and Caerus leaving together out the other door. They were now alone.

Suddenly, Leto felt nervous. Self-conscious again. She tugged on her shirt sleeves and said, "I guess I should go to bed, too." Zeus stood and Leto followed suit. With both of them standing up from their chairs, they found themselves just in front of each other's faces. Close.

"Good night." Zeus said it simply, softly.

Leto answered with a nod.

Zeus leaned forward and kissed her mouth. She went limp for a moment before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. They stayed in that dimly lit, empty cabin for some time.
XCIX

**CAESAR**

1 Year Before the End

"As expected, the Atticans' counterattack was unsuccessful. The Cylons have taken Strand."

Several of the legates gasped. Prefect did not respond from the screen. Caesar stared at his new commander general.

Barbus was a capable officer, no question. But she was forced on him when the legates, tribunes, and the Senate itself grew dissatisfied with Quintus. It wasn't fair, Caesar knew, but Quintus understood. He left without protest. The emperor saw to it that he was cared for.

Barbus spoke louder to be heard over the chatter of the war council, "There are now eight major military facilities in Isinnia under Cylon control. Any one of them could launch major airstrikes on Tiberia and its territories."

For once, the legates and Prefect were silent. Caesar nodded toward the general and she sat.

"Any word on Zeus?" the imperator asked.

The intelligence consul shook his head. "No, dominus."

"Greater effort must be expended to find the terrorists, consul," Prefect said from its screen.

Maxentius glared toward the monitor and said, "Yes, but not for the reasons you believe, Prefect."

"Terrorist cells under Zeus' direction have repeatedly attacked and destroyed power stations and datafarms throughout Tiberia!" The screen flashed brighter as Prefect's voice rose in pitch and volume. "Thirty thousand optimates have been lost in recent attacks due to data backlogs and technical errors! Five praetors and your war consul were killed by Zeus himself!"

"Immaterial!" Caesar rose from his seat and pushed it away with the backs of his knees. As Prefect prepared to speak again, the emperor yelled at the screen, "Off!" The glowing face was gone in a blink.

He looked toward the senators along the table. The consuls and tribunes. There were three dour-looking legates along with General Barbus. Caesar pointed to them.

"You understand the situation, don't you?" The four of them nodded. The imperator looked at the rest of the council and said, "These are the darkest days for the Empire... possibly in all its existence. We are utterly spent." He put particular emphasis on that last word. "Soldiers, materials, equipment. Our treasuries are depleted as well and we are no closer to victory."

"But the Pact..." a minor prefect dared interrupt.

"Quiet." The man sank in his chair. "This war council is finished." Two senators began to protest and Maxentius raised his hands. "Because of this council and its advice, we invaded Gela for resources and for 'honor,'" he said with sarcasm, "we split our attention and couldn't decide what we wanted and by the time we did, it was too late. Our military was sapped and the Cylons gained their footholds around the world." Caesar shook his head. "I let myself be led astray by the desires of the optimates. The greater good of the Empire was not part of their goals."

"My lord!" a senator screamed.

"Get out of my sight. All of you." Slowly, the council began to leave their chairs and depart the room. The emperor caught the attention of General Barbus and motioned for her to stay. Senators and legates grumbled as they left and the imperator said, "The Caesar will lead! I will end this the best way possible. By the Black Stone I swear it!"

Once the room was emptied, once the door closed, Maxentius turned toward General Barbus and said, "Maintain your efforts to find Zeus. He has a technology that might save us all." She nodded. "In the meantime, there is an old file. Centuries old. You need to find it and put it into action." Caesar leaned against the table. Quietly, he said, "It's called the Phaethon Project."
C

**CYLONS**

3 Months Before the End

"How should I be costumed?" Edair asked.

Bevonal stopped his strategy calculations and looked toward the Council leader. "I do not care."

"You should!" Stripped of most of its outer coverings, Blue stepped away and held up its old metallic cape. "If I appear opulent, then I display our wealth and make it appear as though the war does not impact us." It then pointed to its suit of shining chrome armor. "If I appear as a soldier, then I display our strength and our resolve."

Bevonal's red circle eye swept three times before it answered. "The rest of the Council are outfitted in armor. If you wish to appear opulent, go ahead."

Edair's speakers crackled with excitement and it began to slip into its costume. Minutes later, gleaming in differently colored and reflective metals, the wispy version of the leader emerged, gliding about on its shimmering cape. "I like this!"

"Then why did you ask me?" Bevonal stalked away and tried to think in private.

"Shall we speak again of our goals?" Ma'd asked. It was covered in gold armor reminiscent of Gela's first army.

Bevonal answered, "If we must."

Pvamoos stepped forward and said, "Tiberia and the Pact of Nations must cease hostilities at once."

"They must repay us for Cylons deactivated during the conflict in the form of raw materials." Ma'd seemed pleased with itself.

"They must allow us to maintain our bases and territories in Isinnia, Eridia, and Badaria," Bevonal said. "They will not agree to this."

"They should!" Edair said. "We are preparing to strike the final blows. Surely they understand this."

"Perhaps they do," Bevonal said. "This is why they negotiate."

"It is time," Ma'd said.

The Council of Five moved out of their makeshift tent on the slopes of the Majellan Mountains south of Thera. Their capital city had been bombed repeatedly, but the Cylon government and war headquarters had operated quite well from the mining facilities and quarries in the mountain range.

The road leading toward Thera was lined with Cylons. In the distance, a long motorcade entered the Council's view. "I see them!" Blue shrieked. Bevonal continued to think.

The black vehicles slowly got closer and the flags of their representative nations fluttered alongside them. Minutes later, they stopped in a semicircle before the quarry base and a few representatives emerged. Lastly, a large truck rumbled up the hill and turned away from the rest of the vehicles. The Council was curious about this and the rear of the truck began to lower to ground level. Suddenly, as its door opened, a large cart emerged carrying a man tethered to a box by cables. It was the emperor of Tiberia. Edair gasped.

The dignitaries lined up along the road with the emperor remaining in his motorized chariot. The Council of Five moved closer and the leader swept forward, flicking its cape as it did. "I am Malaflees Carbanotto Blue Edair, leader, and this is the rest of the Council of Five." It motioned behind itself and the other Cylon leaders exchanged glances, dismayed that they had been denied the right of introduction.

A human stepped forward and smiled. "I am Dyseo Rodimus, prime minister of Attica and here on behalf of President Berenice Callis."

A human female bowed and said, "I am Nichel Kweito, chief delegate of the Pact of Nations."

"I am Caesar Maxentius the Ninth, lord imperator and princeps senatus of Tiberia." The Cylons bowed low and stared at the Caesar's cart. "Forgive me if I do not leave this vehicle." He kicked and a tuft of dirt flew into the air. "It's an old tradition."

Edair stepped to one side and said, "Please, glorious leaders. This way." The Council of Five began to move along a trail and then down into a quarry. The delegates and their attendants followed. The slope of the rocks stretched far above and the procession kept spiraling downward. As they did, they saw the refineries and assembly plants lining the valleys of a river that once fed the quarry. Cables and conveyor belts extended in every direction. Great forges of molten metal glowed far away. All was still. Gela's attention was turned here and to the talks.

The Council of Five took its place behind a table fashioned from carved stone. The emperor rolled his chariot in front of the table while Attica's prime minister and the Pact's chief delegate sat on blocks nearby.

"I presume you are here to seek an end to hostilities," Edair said as it drifted above the table.

"Correct," the chief delegate said.

"We have terms," Blue answered quickly. "Would you like to hear them?"

Caesar waved his hand toward it and said, "Please."

"Tiberia and the Pact of Nations must cease hostilities at once," one of the Council said.

"They must repay us for Cylons deactivated during the conflict in the form of raw materials."

Bevonal finished, "They must allow us to maintain our bases and territories in Isinnia, Eridia, and Badaria."

The humans exchanged looks while the emperor nodded. "Your first point is one we can easily accept."

"Very good!" Edair yelled.

"Progress!" another Cylon said.

"The second point," Caesar continued, "will be difficult but we can certainly work on it."

"Progress again!" Blue turned toward that Cylon and made a menacing gesture.

"Your third point, however," Kweito said, "will be very difficult."

The Caesar added, "Impossible, I would say."

Edair rose high above the ground and flared its cape, "Why?!"

"Cylon forces occupy seven of our islands and both eastern peninsulas of Attica itself." The prime minister shook his head. "There are millions of civilians under Cylon control and several large cities."

"Likewise," the emperor quickly followed, "nearly a fifth of Tiberia is occupied, including our second-most populous city, Cales. We cannot allow that land to remain yours."

As Edair grunted and flexed its small limbs, Kweito said, "There are four other nations in Isinnia alone that have lost major ground to you. In Eridia, you control all of Ticul and much of Llano. And you have three separate fronts in Badaria."

Blue moved frantically left to right before Bevonal finally spoke. "We have grown dependent on that land and the resources there."

Another Cylon continued, "We are dependent on the labor there for the harvesting of those resources."

Caesar and the humans glared at the Council. "What you are describing," Maxentius said, "is slavery." The machines did not react. "Do you not see the inherent irony? You were, yourselves, slaves to Tiberia."

"Correct." Edair seemed proud of this fact and it added, "We are now more powerful than any of you."

The chief delegate said, "The Pact of Nations cannot allow the occupation of these territories nor can we abide the maintaining of... millions of slaves."

Bevonal rose up and presented its chest. "Those are our terms."

The emperor remained still within his cart while Rodimus and Kweito leaned close to each other and whispered. The Cylons were able to hear them.

"There's no way."

"No. Maybe we can negotiate for a few of them to be returned."

"Tiberia, of course. Caesar will insist."

"Attica, too. We've had bad reports out of Helicon."

Caesar shook his head. "This is pointless. You can't bargain with them. They want all or nothing." He turned toward the Council and said, "Can you envision any scenario wherein you would abandon a few of your occupied territories in exchange for us meeting your other terms?"

Edair simply said, "No."

"You want all or nothing, correct?" The emperor motioned toward them grandly.

"Correct."

The Caesar looked toward his companions and sighed. "I am very sorry, chief delegate and prime minister. I really am." He straightened in his chariot and flicked his cape aside. The Cylons saw the connections between the emperor's robotic body and his large cube-shaped processing unit. "I had hoped some level of bargaining could occur, but... Zeus was right. This was doomed to fail."

Confused, both Rodimus and Kweito stood up and looked at the Cylons. Kweito spoke, "Forgive us, councilors. We are not certain..."

"Please, do not interrupt," Caesar said. "This is over."

Blue tilted its head and asked, "What is over?"

"The negotiations." Caesar inhaled sharply and added, "This war."

The Cylons looked at each other and then at their visitors. Bevonal glared at Caesar and his chariot. His cube inside. Something new appeared. A light emerged from the cube. Bevonal turned its head, trying to identify the energy, but it couldn't.

Then the box exploded.

Bevonal awoke in its small facility in southern Gela. It emerged from the wire cocoon and moved away from the shelter. It looked across the fields and north toward the mountains. It heard nothing and could see only distant clouds. Then, a low rumble filled its sensors.

No other member of the Council followed Bevonal's advice when the war began. It was logical, it said, to create an auxiliary body into which one's data could be transferred in case of attack. So the Cylon councilor stood alone. It realized that it was now the leader.

The Cylon crushed a stone underneath its foot. It clenched its fists until the metal creaked. Something burned inside of it. It burned cold. Everything seemed to slow down and all of its senses were tinged with frost. Anger. Bevonal was angry beyond its comprehension.

"The humans come to our home and try to destroy it?" Its bellowing echoed in the small valley. "We will destroy them!" _We will determine what weapon that was and make our own_.

For a microsecond, it recalled the warning about retaliation from the projection of Cronus some time ago. Just as quickly, the angry Cylon pushed that memory away.
CI

**PSILONS**

5 Weeks Before the End

"Lemuria, status," Bia asked.

The computer instantly replied, "Assembly stage three completed. FTL components installed. Hull ready for orbital transport and final assembly."

Polemos nodded and exhaled loudly. "Almost done."

"When did Mica say we can launch?"

Her brother closed his eyes and tried to remember the conversation. "Three days."

Bia tapped the side of the computer's panel. "How long to assemble her in orbit?"

Polemos grinned at the pronoun usage and said, "About three weeks." He straightened up and groaned when his back cracked. "There's nothing more we can do today. The last of the cable won't be here until tomorrow."

She touched an induction panel and said, "Lemuria, shut down."

"Complying." The screens then went dark.

She got up from the command seat, still wrapped in protective plastic, and motioned away from the Gusu Shipyards. "Let's eat." As they walked, they moved past hangars and studied the curves of their vessel as it was showered with sparks. Bia's pace occasionally slowed and she stared up at the pieces.

"You can't wait to be captain, can you?"

Bia pushed Polemos away and said, "Of course not. It's exciting." They got into their car and drove off the base.

A short while later, they stopped at a café on the outskirts of the city. Bia sipped her soup slowly and Polemos ate a roll of rice and fish. He shook his head and asked, "If you're hungry, why did you get soup?" When she looked up at him, he added, "That's not very filling."

"It's what I wanted." Her eyes darted out to the parking lot where a large group of people began to gather. More appeared from the south, walking along the highway. She spoke again without looking away, "I'll get more when I'm done."

Now her brother was looking outside, too. After a moment, he said, "Refugees."

"From Erlitoun?"

Polemos nodded. The people outside seemed dirty and tired. Several parents held their young children and they cried out loud. The siblings looked down at the table and at their unfinished meals. Guilt must have overtaken them simultaneously because neither of them ate another bite.

After a few quiet moments, Polemos asked, "Did Ares talk to you yet?"

Bia seemed to sink a little in her seat. "Yes."

Polemos shook his head and said, "I don't know what possessed Zeus to make atomics of his own."

"He told me we might need them as bargaining chips." Her brother scoffed and she continued, "Ares, though, said he believed the Cylons' fighters are able to go suborbital. With enough power, they could even attack the spacestations or any orbiting ship."

"That makes more sense."

"Still," she glanced outside again, "I don't like having all of those weapons. Atomics, Hydra missiles,..."

"The war isn't over yet," Polemos said as he laid a few Huban bills out on the table. "Who knows what kind of trouble we could have when we launch."

"True." Bia gathered her jacket and satchel and got up to leave. As she did, a few of the Erlitou refugees came inside and began speaking with the cashier in their native language. The Olympians slowly exited the restaurant and one of the refugees watched as they walked past.

They walked to their rented car and Polemos took the keys from his pocket. The refugee from inside, a man of about fifty, ran out and stopped by them. He spoke quickly and loudly.

Polemos shook his head, "I'm sorry. I don't speak Fengi."

The man looked down and thought. Polemos began to get inside the car when he looked up again and then yelled, "Zeus! Caesar give money! Cylon give money!"

Bia quickly hopped inside and watched as Polemos tried to do the same. The man grabbed at the door and her brother said, "No. Not Zeus. Go away." The man turned toward the throng of people and began yelling in his language. "Oh, frak."

"Let's go. Fast."

Polemos slammed the door and started the car. Almost immediately, half a dozen men ran up to it and began banging on the sides. He reversed and hit one of the men. "Shit." The man outside did not fall but he banged on the car even harder. Bia looked around as best as she could and saw even more people approaching.

"We have to go."

"I don't want to hit them!"

Bia grabbed the wheel and turned it to the right. "You'll have to. Go!"

Polemos stepped on the accelerator and the car lurched forward and over a cement bumper. Another stomp on the pedal forced the car onto the café's sidewalk and it veered away from the building, nudging an outside table before knocking over a flower pot. The vehicle was clear of the restaurant and Polemos sped into a field. He drove into thick brown grass before turning to the road, where he saw dozens more refugees walking along the side.

"Shit." He didn't alter his course. The meandering people moved away and allowed the vehicle to get on the asphalt and speed north. Their assailants were yelling and chasing after them. Soon, many more in the crowd were incited and they began running north, too.

"We have to go back to the shipyard," Bia said. "It won't be safe in town."

"Lake Nemi Patarian Church of God," Prometheus read aloud. He smiled and turned toward the Psilons who came with him. "You know, it was a Patarian church in Kvenlan where I had my... conversion, I guess."

"Patarian?" Antaeus said. "Do you know all the tenets of their faith?"

Prometheus shook his head. "No. It's a church. That's all that's important right now."

They walked inside the building and found a similarly plain sanctuary as Prometheus saw several years before. He looked around and nodded when he noticed the simple wooden symbol of the Median faith.

The feet of seven people on the wooden floor created enough noise to bring the minister from his room. He emerged, wearing his traditional tattered robe and vestments.

"I'm sorry," the kindly old man said, "the service doesn't begin for almost an hour."

Prometheus nodded and said, "It looks like a rain is coming. May we sit in here for a while?"

The minister raised his eyebrows and looked around. "Well, I don't see why not." He waved toward the pews and said, "Please."

"Thank you, sir." Prometheus bowed.

A few of the others said, "Thank you," as well.

Prometheus sat in a pew in front of the others. He turned and leaned his arm over its back to face them. "We are, apparently, Olympus' faithful. I've spoken to everyone at least three times, no more than that, about joining us."

Dione nodded and smiled. "My parents weren't really believers, I don't think, but they taught me about religion." She looked at her husband, Antaeus, and then she continued, "I liked what I heard. It stuck with me."

Antaeus nodded. "Same here." He hugged Dione closer and said, "We've had more than enough close scrapes with the Cylons and the humans to make me think that someone is watching out for us."

Briefly, Prometheus looked down and thought about his late brother.

Antaeus touched the shoulder of his adult daughter, Selene. She smiled and said, "For me, it's almost an intellectual exercise. I know so much about the world but there is still so much more to be explained. I think... faith can help with that."

"Yes," Prometheus said. Then he looked over at the other couple present. "What brings you here?"

"I'll be honest," Antero said, "I've felt pretty useless for a long time."

Her wife, Macaria, smiled and said, "I mean, I'm good with money, so I've helped there..."

"Yeah, but what about me?" Antero laughed. "I'm no scientist. I'm not an engineer or doctor. I can't draw well. But I do read. I've read a lot of books over the last century. Like Antaeus, I feel like we've been blessed. We're in a position to survive and contribute to the world." She shrugged and added, "Well, once the war's over."

"I'll come back to that in a moment," Prometheus said. He looked at his last follower. She didn't look up. She hadn't said a word in almost an hour. He leaned forward and lightly touched her knee. "What about you? Why are you here?"

Leto didn't lift her head fully, but she looked toward Prometheus with wide eyes. She spoke softly and said, "Guilt."

Prometheus nodded once. Dione raised her eyebrows and Antaeus put his hand on her leg to steady her. He quickly shook his head once and Dione stopped her animated reaction.

"Well," their leader said, "I, too, think we are blessed. We are blessed because we have so much in a time when many millions are going without even the most basic things."

"Yes," Antero said.

"We are blessed because we have a community of people who help each other and look out for each other." Prometheus saw Leto's head droop lower. "We are blessed because we have the ability to live far longer than others. We can learn from our mistakes." She lifted her head a little there. "We have more time to do so."

"Absolutely," Antaeus said under his breath.

"I don't know what the future holds for us," Prometheus said, "or even the world. I do know that we can be here to help." A few of the others began to nod. "If the war continues to sweep across the lands as it seems likely to, we will help. If things get so bad we have to leave Larsa," he shook his head and said, "I hope it doesn't come to that, but if we do, we can make a difference wherever we go. A spiritual difference."

At the end of his sentence, a man entered the sanctuary and looked at them. After a moment, he walked to the front of the room and knelt before the dais. He prayed, lit a candle, stood, and walked back outside. He kept his eyes fixed on the Psilons the entire time he was in motion.

Selene shook her head once and said, "I have a bad feeling about him."

Macaria scoffed and said, "Saban farmers. They all look that way."

Prometheus stared at the door. He could hear talking outside. He stood and was about to suggest that they all leave when the door swung open again.

It was the same tall man. His hair was now wet and rain was pouring heavily behind him. He stepped inside and closed the door. After he looked at each of their faces, he spoke with a very thick accent. "We know who you are."

Prometheus glanced at his people and saw the nervousness creep across them all. Leto looked at the floor and Dione crept closer to Antaeus. Prometheus raised his hands and said, "We don't mean to cause any trouble."

"You won't." The stranger nodded toward the door and said, "Leave now." Prometheus hesitated and the others didn't bother to stand. "I recognize you. More people will come soon and they recognize you, too."

Prometheus nodded and said, "I see." He took Leto's arm and helped her off the bench. The others began to stand.

"We don't like Caesar so we won't tell." The man shook his head and said, "More people coming later... they might care more about the money than me."

Prometheus nodded again and pushed the group toward the door. "Thank you."

They walked outside and stood on the front steps of the church. The rain fell hard and the dirt road was already muddy. Nearly everyone sighed and hiked their jackets up to their heads. As they stepped out and into the wetness, Prometheus looked back and saw their stranger talking with others. Even though he had let them go, he felt uneasy.

"Rhea." That's what the display on Zeus' wristband read. He looked up at the group of Psilons in the meeting cabin and sighed before pressing the blinking light.

"Go ahead."

"Zeus." Her voice was sharp and piercing. It made several of the Olympians nearby straighten up, especially those who had Rheas for mothers. "You need to get out of there."

"Why?"

"We just intercepted a call to the local magistrate's office. Someone spotted your people in the Lake Nemi region." Zeus closed his eyes and Rhea continued. "More than that, we have reason to believe that the information was also intercepted by Cylons."

"What the frak?" Hermes said as he slowly stood.

Zeus held his wrist closer. "Why do you say that?" Zeus asked.

"We were monitoring a group of Cylon raiders patrolling near the Tiberian border. Just moments after I got the call about you, they turned and headed straight for Lake Nemi."

He sighed and looked around the room. Psilons began to rise and gather their things. The door swung open and a drenched group of Olympians came in from the rain. Prometheus, Antaeus, and others.

"Thank you, Rhea," Zeus said.

"Good fortune." The device beeped.

"What's going on?" Prometheus asked.

Zeus only turned part of the way toward him. "Our location has been compromised. Cylons are likely on their way here."

Prometheus turned toward his wet comrades and held one of their hands. He lowered his head and said, "Dear God. We ask for your help in these trying times." Zeus rolled his eyes and walked away. "Please help us flee to safer shores."

"We need to evacuate, now," Poseidon said.

Arcas stood and said, "Agreed."

Prometheus stopped his prayer and huddled the rest of his group inside. "What can we do?"

Zeus raised his hands and said, "First off, don't panic. Code Black is a thing of the past. Worst case scenario... if we're killed, we download and wake up in Huban at a hangar where the ships are being built."

Hera was standing up and staring at someone. Zeus turned and saw that Leto was among the wet with Prometheus. He glanced toward her belly. _The pregnancy can't download, of course_.

Poseidon moved toward another door and said, "Antaeus, please ready the shuttle."

"On it."

Zeus clapped his hands and said, "Group A, stand by to depart. Take your essentials and rig the rest." He watched as the people scattered. He looked behind him again and saw Leto standing still. Her head hung low but she didn't make a move or a sound. Zeus gave her a curt nod and she departed. When he turned back around, he found that Hera was the only person remaining in the cabin.

Silence.

Hera spoke first, saying, "I'm sure you found a place for her on one of the ships."

Zeus scoffed and said, "There's a place for everyone."

"She's pregnant."

Zeus nodded.

Hera inhaled through her nose and drew her mouth into a tight line. "It's yours, isn't it?"

He sighed.

"We've been here before," she said. Her volume continued to rise. "Semele? That Attican scientist."

Zeus nodded. _She doesn't know about Mnemosyne, at least_.

"You said," she paused, inhaling and exhaling in a very calculated way. A way very familiar to Zeus. "You said it wouldn't happen again. You said it was over."

"I lied."

"I know you frakking lied," Hera said.

Zeus rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to say? Do you want me to repent, disavow any feelings I have for her and our unborn children?"

"Plural?" Hera said incredulously. "That's fantastic."

"I won't do it," Zeus said. "I love them."

Hera was too angry to cry. She started to leave the room when Zeus yelled, "I love you still. Can't you see that?"

"How can you say that?" she asked from the door. It was still raining outside. "How can you dare say that to me?"

Zeus was quiet for a moment. He spoke softly, "I've secured a place for you on the _Olympus_ , haven't I? If I didn't love you, why would I have done that?"

Hera was fuming. Too angry to think or rationalize. She stormed out into the rain.

Zeus sat and watched the rain taper. _'With me,'_ he thought. _I should have said, 'I secured a place for you on the_ Olympus _with me.'_

Soon after, Hades came in and said the _Aetos_ was ready to take the first group away to their waiting vehicles.

"How long before it can come back?"

Hades shrugged and said, "Everything's about forty kilometers away. Shouldn't be too long."

"Go. Make it fast."

As he ran from the cabin, Hades yelled, "We'll bring it back as soon as we can!"

Zeus stood and walked toward the window. He watched as Leto ran toward the shuttle. A few others piled on board. Then Hera. He sighed and sat down again.

After pouring himself a drink, Ares entered the room with an automatic rifle. Zeus asked, "Shuttle's full?"

Ares pulled the strap over his shoulder. "Yes."

"Who's left?" Hephaestus and Hermes burst into the cabin with a box full of wires and electronics. Zeus sipped his drink and looked at Hephaestus, "I thought you were in Huban?"

"I was leaving later today, but..." He removed a few batteries from the box and said, "I've got all the buildings ready to go."

Zeus nodded and looked outside. The _Aetos_ was gone. "Who's left?"

Hermes said, "Just us."

"Four?" Zeus waited for a response and none came. "We could have squeezed four more onto the shuttle."

"You said 'Group A,'" Ares smiled. "We're all B."

Hephaestus mumbled as he fidgeted with the electronics, "And the rest of Group B is in Huban working on the ships."

Zeus put his drink down and walked over to the table. "What are you doing?"

Hermes grinned and said, "EMP devices."

"EMP?" Zeus smirked and said, "Do you know if it even works on Cylons?"

Hermes shrugged and Ares said, "Even if it doesn't, it has a pretty big explosive punch."

Hephaestus smiled and held up a metal tube. "See?"

Zeus leaned over and asked, "How can I help?"

Ten minutes later, Ares spoke from the window, "Here they are."

There were two modified Ticulan fighters, wedge-shaped and moving fast over the water. Their ionocraft drive was almost silent and they hovered near Lake Nemi's edge a hundred meters or so away from the cabin.

"They're dropping soldiers," Ares said. He propped the stock of the rifle against his shoulder and leaned down. They marched along the muddy paths and swept left and right toward the now-empty cabins. He glanced at his wristband and tapped a few lights. He watched the cabins and when he saw Cylons disappear into one, he pressed a button.

The blast contained more fire than force. Papers and equipment were destroyed. The cabins themselves were, too, but the splinters flew into the open and bounced off the soldiers. Only a couple of the machines in the buildings were damaged when they exploded. The ones remaining outside turned and looked toward the main cabin. Then they began to march.

Ares raised the rifle and fired. Large-caliber rounds pierced their armor and sent Cylons to the wet ground. He kept his weapons fire brief and controlled. Each shot found a mark. The Cylons then raised their weapons and began to shoot.

Bullets tore through glass and cheap wooden doors. Dust and splinters flew into the room around them. Ares rose up again and fired. This time, he took down a black-colored centurion. He smiled broadly until he realized that his magazine was empty. He tossed it and reloaded.

"Connect that," Hephaestus said. As he held a wire flat against a circuit board, a bullet hit the table near him. "Shit."

"Ares?" Zeus asked.

"I'm working on it." He touched his wristband again and detonated all of the buildings, except their own. Fire washed over everything in sight. The Cylons were forced to stand still as the heatwaves poured over them and debris rained down. Ares took the opportunity and began to fire at the ones he could see. Seven more went down.

Another magazine was spent. Ares only had regular rounds left. These smaller ones wouldn't help against the machines, most likely. He rose up and fired again, but the bullets bounced off of them harmlessly.

"Hurry up with it!" Ares shouted from the window. He fired a few more shots and the enemy returned his volley.

Hephaestus was holding the metal tube as still as possible while Zeus gingerly packed in more explosives. Hermes was pacing back and forth, trying to hear something on his earphone.

"Almost there," Hephaestus said. He was watching a meter and the needle was rising quickly.

Zeus closed a plastic case around the metal and electronics. It was an old first aid kit with holes melted into it for wires. Zeus glanced over to Hermes and shouted, "We're going to need some kind of delivery system."

Ares looked at his father and then at Hermes. The small man shook his head, "Now you tell me." He darted around the cabin, lifting blankets and boxes, trying to find something. Anything.

A bullet ricocheted into the room and Ares pressed against the wall. He popped his head to take a look quickly and he ducked aside. He ran in a crouch to the other window and stood up firing seven precise shots. "That's one down. I don't have much more ammo."

"Save those bullets for a distraction," Hephaestus said. "The charge is almost there."

"Hermes," Zeus said, "I hope you've got something because none of us are great Pyramid players."

"I've got it, boss."

Hephaestus looked at the meter and then at Zeus. "It's now or never."

"Yep." Zeus pulled the wires from the box and turned to the door. Hermes was standing there, holding a long sock. "What the frak..."

"Hephaestus," Hermes said, "grab an end and hold it tight against the door frame."

"Oh, please," Hephaestus said.

Zeus nodded quickly, "No, it'll work." He stood in the middle of the doorway, though the door was still closed. Hermes and Hephaestus were stretching the sock tightly and Ares was several meters away under a window. "Get ready, son. Straight ahead?"

"Yes," he said. "That's where the bulk of them are."

Zeus took a deep breath and he shouted, "Now!"

Ares stood up and fired. A wild spray of bullets bounced off concrete, dug into the dirt, and glanced off metal armor. Zeus, cradling the device tightly, kicked open the front door and placed the case against the sock. He ran back, aimed it only slightly and released. The white and blue plastic box arced through the air and landed in some weeds only about ten meters away.

"Oh, shit," Zeus said. "Run!" The four of them raced to the back of the cabin, fumbling for the door while bullets tore into the walls. After a moment, the case exploded and they heard the sounds of metal crunching and collapsing on itself. Zeus shook his head, trying to get the buzz out of his ears. He looked across the cabin and saw prone Cylons scattered about in front of the door.

"Pyramid player or not," Ares said, "I could have thrown that better than your damned sock."

Hermes laughed and Zeus grabbed his head. "Where is Hades?"

"He'll be here in a moment." As they stood up, they heard an airship landing outside. The four of them ran to the front door and saw Poseidon waving from the window.

Zeus walked toward the craft and stepped over a deactivated Cylon. Hades was holding the hatch open and helping Hermes inside. Zeus couldn't help but stop and bend over one of the warriors. Its metal helmet was muddy and its eye deactivated. His gaze drifted over the wide fan on the rear of its head and then Zeus pried the weapon from its firm grip.

"Let's go." Zeus closed the hatch and looked toward the control area. "Where are those fighters?"

"They pulled away when I started blowing the cabins," Ares said. "They're probably close."

Poseidon yelled from the controls, "I've got a plan." Suddenly, the _Aetos_ lurched toward the clouds, moving due north. After several minutes, it banked and flew southeast toward the rest of the Olympians.

"Speaking of plans," Hades said, "what's ours?"

Zeus strapped himself into a seat and held the Cylon's rifle in his lap. "We make our way to Huban as best we can."

Ares' eyes darted around and he said, "May I stay in Saban for a while longer?"

Zeus raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I had plans for tomorrow. Important ones."

Zeus squinted and said, "Change them. We can't go back to the old campground any more."

"I wasn't. I had a meeting."

Zeus swiveled his chair and asked, "About what?"

Ares sighed and ground his teeth. After his jaw flexed, he finally spoke, softly, "I was meeting with an arms merchant."

Zeus said, "We have plenty of weapons for our purposes." He began to get a feeling that he wouldn't like this.

"Not for us." Ares finally looked Zeus in the eye. "For the cells in Tiberia."

Poseidon's head jerked upright and he stood. He quietly stepped away and sat near Hades.

Zeus held his mouth still and took a deep breath. "How long?" Ares hesitated and Zeus followed up with, "How long has this been going on?"

Ares was humbled and kept his head low. "About ten years."

Zeus closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the chair. He muttered, "Ten years." Ares didn't move. "I have been telling... everyone... that we weren't involved with that. Only the propaganda."

"If you didn't know, it was better for everyone."

"How?" Zeus was yelling and everyone turned to see. "If we had been caught, that could have ruined me. Ruined us with the Pact and probably with the Agency, too!" He leaned forward and jabbed a finger toward Ares' chest. "What the frak would you do if they took the _Olympus_ and _Lemuria_ away because of this?"

Ares lifted his chin and said, "They haven't discovered us."

"Yet," Zeus said. "Yet." He turned his chair around and leaned his face against his hand. After a few minutes, he said, "I got another message from Darro's people. I was going to ignore it." He glanced toward Ares and said, "I'm thinking maybe you should go. Now."

The _Aetos_ began its landing procedures. Once it was safely on the ground, Ares stood and nodded toward his father. Silently, he left the shuttle, grabbed a case from the supplies outside and entered a dartship. As the other Psilons watched, confused, it lifted off and headed south into Tiberia.
CII

**AHLJAELA**

1 Day Before the End

Night was about to fall in Tiber. Fires blazed on its hills. Smoke poured into the air. Mobs roamed the streets. In the distance, the sounds of bombs simply joined the cacophony.

"They're getting closer," Thon said.

Ares pulled back his hood and looked west. "Yes."

The duo snuck from one overturned street stand to another. A large group of rabble moved past with clubs. They crashed through the windows and doors of a shop. Ares nodded away from them and Ahljaela followed.

They stalked through an alley and the smaller man said, "It all happened so fast."

Ares pressed his back against the wall and looked into the next square. He saw no one. "Caesar underestimated the Cylons. Again."

"Yes, but," Thon smiled a little, "I meant the revolution."

Ares looked at him and said, "The thing you had been working for happened and it surprised you?"

"Yes." Ahljaela laughed. "I lived in a vacuum. I didn't know if what we were doing was having an impact." The sound of a collapsing wall nearby forced them to turn and move into the next block. "The people finally had enough."

"Being invaded by millions of machines can help with sudden realizations." Ares pulled his satchel to his front and rifled through the opening. He was looking for something but he zipped it closed without removing anything. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Thon nodded. "Yes."

Ares looked across the open square to the next alley. "On my mark." He turned his head and still saw no one. When he was about to move, his wristband beeped. "Shit." He pressed the lights and turned the volume down. In a loud whisper, he said, "Yes?"

The voice on the other end was tinny, but Ahljaela could hear it clearly enough from where he crouched. "Son?"

Ares inhaled sharply and said, "Yes, father?"

"I needed to call and let you know not to worry anymore." Ares furrowed his brow and glanced around while Zeus paused. " _Olympus_ and _Lemuria_ are in orbit and at the stations. We're ready on our end."

Ares nodded once and said, "That's good."

"Will you come back with us?"

The Psilon hesitated and stared at the road's surface for a moment. "Am I welcome?"

"You're my son and you're my general. I need you with me. I want you with me."

Ares looked at Thon. The young man was slumped against the cement bench and he was now staring at the ground. "Not yet."

"Why?"

"I'm still with Darro's cell in Tiber." Ares looked up again. No one was near. "We have a mission and I want to see it through." Thon smiled at Ares and he nodded in return.

Zeus paused now. Finally, he said, "I understand. Don't stay too much longer. Everything I'm seeing shows there could be a major Cylon push soon. Long-range planes at their airfields in Gela and Scythia. At their captured bases everywhere else. Something big is coming."

"Understood."

Softly, Zeus said, "Take care, son."

"I will." He tapped the wristband and said, "On my mark." He waved his hand and they ran the dozen or so meters to the next alley. They slid through the narrow passage quickly and then knelt at the other end looking out onto a major thoroughfare.

"Frak," Thon said. "It feels like we'll never get there."

"Patience." Ares watched a member of the Praetorian Guard ride past on a horse. "It seems that some units of the military are still in position."

Ahljaela looked over Ares and nodded. "We're close to Viminal Square. Another kilometer." While they watched, Thon tried to remember the last time he spoke to his father. _Grandma's deathbed. And we didn't really talk then._

"I have an idea but we'll need to wait." Ares sat on the ground and pulled his dark hood up to his face again.

Thon leaned against the opposite wall and said, "I'm jealous."

Without looking away, Ares said, "Of what?"

"You." The Psilon turned briefly and Thon continued, "You still talk to your family. I haven't in years." Ares didn't respond. "Darro was the closest thing I had to a father. A real father, I mean."

Ares nodded and said, "I could see that. He cared for you a great deal."

Ahljaela felt a sad warmth swell in him and said, "One bad night and I'm all that's left. Everyone's either dead or in prison. If you hadn't come when I called, Ares, I don't know what I'd be doing tonight."

"You never started a family?"

"No." He lifted his hand and gestured toward a distant fire. "Didn't seem right if this is what I did for a living." Thon shook his head and said, "I'm not sure why I'm fighting at all."

The Olympian finally turned and looked at the de facto resistance leader. His dark eyes pierced through him and Ares said, "You're not fighting for family or emotion. You're fighting because it is right."

Ahljaela nodded. "I know the list of crimes the Caesar committed."

"And you're not correct about one thing. You are fighting for your family. You told me so."

Thon sighed and said, "The family I didn't have. I mean, I had them, but not really." He looked up at the smoky dusk sky. "My parents were almost in slave labor. They were never there for me. My grandmother tried, but her factory work," he scoffed, "it almost killed her every year. I was sent to work at a datafarm when I was eleven. I'm so stupid. I mean, truly stupid, because I was never allowed to finish school. I was sent to work."

Ares seemed to perk up at the sight of two Praetorians riding horses toward a nearby building. They stopped by an out-of-order fountain and dismounted.

"The generations of my family who were forced into factory work or power plants or whatever just because the Caesar said so." Ares began to stand and Thon turned toward the road. "Some of them chose to fight. I chose to fight."

Ares adjusted his satchel's strap and said, "Ready to choose again?" Ahljaela nodded. "Right or left?"

Thon looked toward the fountain and watched the two armored guards chat. The one on the left was taller. "I'll take the right."

Ares smiled and said, "Try to make it bloodless."

Quickly, the pair ran from the alley and then behind the horses, leaving the soldier on the other side. Ares moved to the left and Thon to the right. When Ares nodded, they both ducked around the horses and grabbed their targets.

The Psilon wrapped his beefy forearm around the throat of one Praetorian. With four quick squeezes, his larynx was crushed, and he gasped for air on the cobblestones by the dry fountain. Ahljaela managed to get a leather belt across the throat of his target, but the man was moving from side to side and trying to buck his attacker off. Thon grunted as he tightened the strap and, finally, the Praetorian fell to his knees. Now able to get a good foothold, the rebel pulled back on the belt again until the coughing went silent and the guard slumped over.

"Undress them, quickly." Ares immediately threw off his hood and coat. Thon followed suit and unbuckled the synthetic armor and belts of the Praetorian. A sword, rifle, handgun, ammo clips, communicator, knife, and more flopped onto the stones loudly. Ares looked around and saw no one. He peeled off the man's dark royal blue pants and then unclipped the helmet.

A minute later, they stood, now looking like members of the Praetorian Guard. Ares lifted the two bodies and rolled them over the edge and into the fountain. He tossed his coat and hood on top of them. Ahljaela tried to tighten his armor and Ares leaned over to help.

"Now what?" Thon asked.

The Psilon straightened up, adjusted his helmet's chin strap, and walked over to the horses. "We ride."

It took Ahljaela a moment to get steady but then, once the creature found a good trot, he looked as though he belonged there.

A checkpoint loomed ahead as the road winded up toward Viminal Square. Ares leaned toward Thon and said, "Just salute when I do." They rode on with no change in their pace. Four Praetorians guarded the road ahead on foot and Ares brought his arm to his chest. He puffed out his torso as best he could while riding and Ahljaela did the same. The guard by the makeshift gate was about to stop them, but since the pair weren't slowing down, he stepped aside.

Soon the riders approached the Square and the high walls of the palace itself. Ares and Thon slowed down and moved their horses to service paths around the perimeter of the building. All along the walls, tribunes, consuls, servants, and more gathered to watch the war and the insurrection from afar. They stood and gasped, pointing at the distant fires and smoke. Ares looked ahead at the nearest watchtower and said, "Act natural."

They rounded a corner under the tower, and all of Viminal Hill opened beneath them. Wind howled around them, causing Thon to shiver. On walls, he saw more people standing and gawking. They rounded another corner under another watchtower and came face to face with pandemonium.

It was an area normally concealed by the palace walls in the Square. Between government buildings, masses of people were ferrying trunks and boxes from the palace and throwing them into trucks and even construction equipment. Whatever vehicles were available, obviously.

Ahljaela stared at the dignitaries fleeing the doors screaming and carrying computers and papers. A few people ran from the palace without shoes. Large animals on leads were pulled from the emperor's menagerie and forced into cages. The sight confused him and he was startled from his gaze as one of the beasts growled and was yanked away. Thon turned and saw that Ares had dismounted and hitched his horse to a fence. He did the same.

Once the strap was secure, Ahljaela looked up at the palace. The marble walls were pristine white. Ledges storeys above had beautifully carved images of Caesars long past. Gold and silver lined the interiors of engraved letters. Ares snapped his fingers and waved him over. After another group of people ran from the building, they darted inside.

They bypassed the clamor and moved into a darkened and empty hallway. There was a single light at the far end from an emergency battery. Thon looked down at the tiled floor and then touched his belts. His gun, knife, sword, ammo... it was all there.

"Now," he said, "where's the Caesar?"
CIII

**CAESAR**

1 Day Before the End

He opened his eyes.

He took a breath.

His lungs filled with air and his chest swelled. After holding it for a few seconds, he began to feel his heart beating within. Then he exhaled.

For the first time in a century and a half, Maxentius was alive.

He struggled to sit upright in the pod that held his waiting body. He sloshed in the gel and then clumsily pushed open the thin plastic lid. He was still alone in bowels of the palace, of course, and the lights were flickering. He tensed his arm and looked down to see the muscle flex. Caesar smiled and slowly moved out of the canister.

The body's muscles were artificially toned but it had been so long since the emperor had to think about how to move in such a form. His robot bodies functioned very differently.

The Caesar looked toward the corner and saw his last machine vessel, slumped in a chair with cables connecting it to the transfer system. Gingerly, he walked over the cold floor. Cold! He was feeling cold through his feet. He stood above the empty robot and looked at it. Its metallic skin stayed in its usual flesh-like color and position. Its plastic eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. It had always been an idealized version of his adult self. But now... Maxentius took another deep breath... now he was his adult self again.

A man of twenty-five years old. Brown hair and hazel eyes. Thin, tall, muscular. He moved around the room, looking for a towel, before his eyes settled back on the robot. He yanked its cape off and wiped himself down. He shrugged and decided to strip the machine the rest of the way, putting its gray military uniform on.

The emperor walked out into the corridor and smiled. His nose filled with scents he hadn't smelled in almost two centuries. Subtle smells. His robot bodies couldn't do subtlety. His shoes clacked on the tiles toward the stairway and he bounded up them quickly. After three flights, he began to feel winded and he laughed. He stood at the top of a flight, holding a brass handrail. The apparent young man remained there for nearly a minute, simply breathing. And enjoying it.

An explosion in the distance grabbed his attention. His smile vanished and he continued up the stairs again. When he emerged on the main floor of his palace, the Caesar saw madness.

Senators, consuls, tribunes, and more were running up and down the halls, screaming. They carried boxes, some leaving long trails of paper. He turned and followed them for a while and found himself in a large ballroom, packed with people being herded by Praetorian Guards. The emperor looked around the room and then turned to the right. The large doors were opened and dozens crowded onto the balcony and looked toward the city.

It was a southerly view. The Caesar sidled between a subconsul and a servant and placed his hand on the marble railing. He squinted and looked into the distance as best he could. The bulk of the city appeared to be on fire or at least wreathed in smoke. High above, planes flew and carried out attacks on the approaching Cylon army.

A Praetorian approached him slowly and said, "My lord?"

Maxentius thought about ignoring him. He thought about pretending to be just another human. Then he remembered he was wearing the Caesar's uniform. He turned and said, "Yes?"

The guard saluted. He obviously wasn't sure this was the emperor until just now. "Lord, General Barbus is waiting for you in the war room."

Caesar nodded and glanced again toward the city. Anger swept through him and he stepped away. He stalked through the ballroom past wailing patricians and senators and then into the corridor. A minute or so later, he was in his conference room and saw Barbus standing on the balcony.

"Carry on," she said into a communicator. She turned and saluted. Caesar saw that she was wearing armor not unlike the Praetorian Guard. It was dirty and her face was smudged with ash. "Dominus, I have a status report."

The imperator nodded and said, "Proceed."

"Rebels have taken control of the lower hills and neighborhoods of the city. They have set fires and have successfully fended off any attempts by my men to restore order." She paused, waiting for a response, but the Caesar seemed distracted. "There are... tens, if not hundreds of thousands of them. They are rampaging and I cannot stop them."

"What about the Cylons?"

She glanced toward the large map on the wall. Labels and decals had been placed on it in recent weeks to mark the movement of armies. Now, the symbol for the Cylons seemed to have bred and their offspring dotted the world.

"The Port of Tiber has fallen. Two legions are still fighting there in an effort to keep them contained. Cylon legions are marching from both the north and south to Tiber. They should be here within hours."

The Caesar clasped his hands behind his back and moved toward his large wooden throne. "Their air force?"

"They've been held back for days. We don't know why. There are reports that they have been massing, but we don't know for what. A couple of hours ago, I received word that many of their planes launched. Their paths were erratic, so we can't say what their destinations are."

Maxentius' fingers danced along the antique laquer. He found a small, smooth crack in the armrest. His robot body put that there accidentally decades ago. He mashed his fingertip into it and smiled at the feeling of every nuance of the split.

"My lord," Barbus said, "Tiber will fall." She sighed and lowered her head. "I have failed you."

The emperor turned and looked at her. "No, you haven't. You've fought as well as could be expected."

She seemed relieved but confused. "Dominus, I don't undertstand."

Caesar walked from his dais toward the balcony. He stepped outside and looked toward the distant plumes of smoke. "Overwhelming odds, general." He tapped his fingers on the rim of a tall vase. "Those mobs have killed millions of optimates. They've destroyed datafarms and power stations. Millions of businessmen, senators, prefects... the patricians who transferred themselves... they're gone. If they were lucky enough to be in their machine bodies when the Matrix went down, they will be without power soon enough." Barbus didn't speak. She looked toward the burning city in the same direction as the Caesar. "My empire is falling."

The general looked down and meekly said, "What are your orders, lord?"

Maxentius turned toward her and asked, "Is the Phaethon Project's retaliation plan in place?"

"Yes, lord. The long-range jets are ready to fly when you give the order."

He nodded. "Send them up. Tell them... they'll know when to carry out their mission." Barbus saluted and began to walk away. The imperator grabbed her arm and said, "When that's finished, you are free, general." She furrowed her brow and tried to understand. "You may flee or fight... or whatever you desire. Do so with my gratitude." Barbus saluted again and with more reverence. Then, with a snap, she turned and stormed out.

Maxentius stood on the balcony for some time, listening to the commotion outside Viminal Square and within his own palace. He shivered in the night's breeze, smiling again at the small reminders of his newly regained humanity.

He left the room and moved down the hall to some abandoned boxes. Mostly paper there. He turned to a chest and found money, papers, and computer panels. The emperor kicked it and walked into the ballroom. Many of the people there had gone but there were packages and cases left behind. His footsteps echoed in the cavernous room as he walked across the floor to some baggage. The first two contained women's clothes. The third contained menswear. He lifted it and walked back down the hall.

A few minutes later, Caesar Maxentius IX was wearing a plain brown suit. He could have passed for any young man on the street. He adjusted his collar and walked back to the balcony and stared again at Tiber aflame.

To the east, beyond his vision, he heard the explosions of bombs. The Cylon battle at the Port of Tiber was not going well, he guessed. _Cylons to the right of me_ , he thought, _rebellion to the left of me_.

Again, anger flashed inside him. For more than three thousand years, as both republic and empire, Tiber stood. For two hundred years, he ruled. He had made Tiberia stronger and larger than ever. _So quickly... so very quickly, it's been taken from me._

He breathed deeply through his nose and winced at the sharpness of the cold night air inside of him. He looked down at the throngs of people fleeing the palace and wondered if he could really blend in with them. He could pass for any regular person, but that wasn't a guarantee of safety. Not with the machines coming. And the rebels. Being in this suit, he'd be taken for a patty without a second thought. He'd be dead then, too. _Maybe there's time to dirty it up. I could pass then_.

Behind him, the main doors to the chamber were thrown open. Two Praetorian Guards cautiously walked inside and looked about. Caesar turned and stared at them. They stopped in their tracks and studied him. Uneasy, the emperor asked, "What is it?

The smaller of the two guards stepped forward and removed his helmet. In the dim light from outside, Caesar could see the man smile. He dropped the helmet and said, "Your reckoning."
CIV

**ZEUS**

The Day of the End

"It's going to take some getting used to," Leto said through his wristband. "But I'm fine."

"Good, good." Zeus paced around in the corner of the warehouse. "Sit tight. Run some tests if you feel up to it or get bored."

"I will." There was a long pause and then she said, "I love you."

Zeus smiled for a second and said, "I love you, too."

He walked out of the building and looked across the Gusa Shipyards. A few large trucks and makeshift buildings were assembled in front of the hangars. Just weeks ago, the parts of their two starships lay all over the place.

"Zeus," Poseidon said as he ran toward him, "Hades just got a call from some official. He said we can expect a visit from the government soon."

He squinted and asked, "Why?"

"I have no idea." Poseidon looked around and then asked, "How's Leto?"

"She's fine. She got onboard a while ago."

"Hmm." The brothers began to walk back toward the tents. "Have you given any more thought to my idea?"

"Well, we've got seeds. If Earth is devoid of usable plant life, we can start there."

"But animals," Poseidon said. "Animals are as important to a planet's ecosystem and our survival as plants."

"I know," Zeus said. "The journey will take months. There's not enough time for us to gather everything we need to ferry a bunch of animals around."

"We could have cloned them, like I suggested..."

Zeus was becoming exasperated. "We were on the run. Constantly, it seemed. Cloning horses and cows and sheep seemed to be low priority."

Poseidon nodded and then sighed. "I miss those horses in Saban." Zeus smiled. "That farmer was always kind enough to let us go for a ride."

They ducked under the flap of a tent and saw several of their fellow Psilons gathered around a screen. The signal was poor but the images were stark.

"Two more carrier fleets sunk off the coast of Tiberia," the reporter said. Smoking hulks of metal were broken in two and falling beneath the waves. "Meanwhile, on land, the Cylon forces pushed through the Caesar's lines south of Tiber and seem to be marching north right now."

After thousands of armed machines moved through a dead forest, a news anchor appeared and said, "We have word now of more Cylon attacks underway in Attica, Tyria, Thoria, Memfi, Gerzeh, and Badar." Some of the Olympians gasped as the man kept repeating what was spoken into his earpiece. "The battlefront in Erlitoun has expanded and now legions are moving toward the Huban border. We're also receiving confirmation of the launch of dozens of long-range planes..."

"Turn it off," Zeus said. "For now."

Hades pressed a button on the remote control and turned in his chair. "Do you think the Cylons have atomics?"

Zeus inhaled and then shook his head. "I don't know. It's only been a few months since the Caesar's attack. I wouldn't think they could create nuclear weapons in that short time..."

"We did," Arcas said. Several of the Psilons lowered their heads.

Zeus looked down at the notepad in his hand and he began to speak softly. " _Aetos_ and the dartships are already on the _Olympus_ and _Lemuria_ , so we'll have to go up on different flights. The resurrection pods have already been placed and we know which ship we're going to, right?" Most of them nodded. "The auto-clone systems? Up and running?"

Metis glanced around and then said, "Yes. The tests went well."

"Good." _She was looking for Hera_ , he thought. _They worked on those systems together_.

Hera left weeks ago. She said then, "I need time to think. Time away from you." She drove off in a rented car. Zeus watched her go and stood there at the gate for a long while until her dust cloud dissipated. She hadn't called or sent any kind of message since.

"The ships are ready," Zeus said. "They're being charged now and that will take another week at the station, but we're ready."

Semele shook her head. "Do we really have to leave? Do we have to go to Earth?"

Zeus was about to speak when Bia said, "Zeus and I have discussed us taking the ships away from Larsa for a time. Coming back later to see how things are." She crossed her legs and said, "It depends on how things end with the Cylons."

"Correct." Zeus scanned their dour faces and said, "It seems desperate because it is. I am not excited to leave Larsa any more than any of you. But," he motioned to the deactivated monitor, "things are not going well. At all."

"Zeus," Arcas was by the entrance, holding the flap back. "There's police outside."

He looked down at his tan shirt and saw dirt on it. He brushed it a few times and then walked out. He was greeted by a Huban man in a suit, holding a badge.

"I'm District Chief Inspector Qin with the Huban State Police," he said in heavily accented Attican. "Mr. Zeus, we are here to take you and your people into custody."

Poseidon said, "What?" Zeus turned and saw him and Arcas leaving the tent. The police behind Qin readied their weapons and Zeus raised his hand to hold his people back.

"Wait, wait," he said. More Psilons had exited the tent and were gathering behind Zeus. "Why are we being arrested?"

"Not arrested, Mr. Zeus," Qin said. "I have been ordered by the government to detain you."

"Why?"

"What's going on?"

"Can they do that?"

Zeus straightened up and spoke calmly, "Inspector Qin, we have been given permission by both the United Space Probe Agency and Huban's government to operate here in Gusa. We just finished a major project for them. Operation Preserve. Have you heard of that?"

Qin looked back at his officers and said, "I'm aware of it, yes, but it is still classified."

"Did the ships launch? We haven't heard."

Qin sighed and said, "Yes. Yesterday."

Zeus nodded and said, "If all is well, I don't know why we're being detained."

"All is not well." The inspector moved forward and said, "Cylons have invaded Huban. They are not far away from here now. They know you're here."

Arcas stepped forward and said, "How?"

"I do not know." Qin motioned for his men to lower their weapons. "I have been ordered to detain you and then take you to the border to turn you over to them."

Zeus raised his eyebrows and he pulled his head back. Arcas scoffed and turned away. Poseidon said, "You're frakking kidding me."

"My government has asked me to give you to them in exchange for them to halt their invasion."

Zeus licked his lips and said, "That won't work. Cylons aren't invading just for me."

"Perhaps," Qin said.

"They want the technology we developed for our ships. For Operation Preserve," Polemos said. "They want to use it against us all."

Qin was frustrated and flailed his arms. "I do not know their aims. I know my orders. Please, come with me. Now."

Zeus inhaled deeply and looked at the faces of the Huban police. There were about twenty of them and they carried handguns. He looked back at his Olympians. They were evenly matched, numerically, but Zeus believed his Psilons could take them in a fight. Then a military truck rolled up.

An officer leapt from the cab and began yelling at Qin in Fengi. A dozen soldiers left the rear of the vehicle carrying automatic weapons.

Arcas seemed to be reading Zeus' mind. "So much for fighting back."

"Look, everyone," Zeus lifted his hands and continued, "we'll go with them. We'll try to escape if the opportunity arises, but we'll go. Peacefully."

"And what if we get handed over to the Cylons?" Metis asked.

Zeus lowered his head and thought, "Then... suicide is the best option." Some of the others seemed stunned by this but he followed it up with, "Our backups are waiting in orbit, so it's just a shortcut, really."

"Mr. Zeus," Qin said. "You need to go with the major here." The scowling officer hung behind Qin and angrily waved the Olympians over. Zeus looked at his people and nodded. "I am sorry, Mr. Zeus."

He didn't look at the inspector again. He just said, "Me too," and walked toward the waiting soldiers. They produced plastic bands and tightly wrapped them around their wrists. Some of the Psilons grunted and protested, but they didn't seem to care.

With his arms bound behind his back, Hades chuckled and said, "Isn't this just the sauce on the steak?"

Poseidon laughed and stumbled behind him. Hermes asked, "What do you mean?"

"Humans," Hades answered. "Wars, greed, selfishness..."

Zeus nodded and said, "Betrayal."

The soldiers pushed them to the rear of the truck and was preparing to put them inside when something happened. The major's radio began to squawk and he was being yelled at in Fengi. His eyes went wide and he ran to his soldiers and began to order them around. Two men grabbed Hermes and tossed him into the transport. Then they lifted Metis and Semele before doing the same.

"What's going on?" Dionysus asked.

Zeus answered, "I'm not sure."

As soon as he finished saying it he saw Poseidon looking toward the sky. Zeus turned to follow his gaze and he heard the sound of a distant jet plane. High above they saw twin vapor trails behind a single wedge-shaped aircraft. It arced across the sky and attracted the attention of all the Olympians, soldiers, and police there on the tarmac. Some of the soldiers began to mutter to themselves and make warding gestures in front of their bodies.

"Oh no," Bia said. "They're praying."

Zeus' shoulders slumped and he looked at the ground. A few of the Huban nearby dropped to their knees. He looked toward his brothers and felt a sudden pain in his chest. His throat tightened and he gave them a little nod. Then Zeus looked at the rest of the Olympians. Bia and Polemos seemed strong, but the others were unsure. Zeus smiled at them all and nodded again. "It's time."

Bia smiled and said, "We'll see you up there."

The plane was nearly on the opposite side of the sky when it finally happened. A blinding flash to the east. The light warmed their skin as though an oven door had been opened. There was no sound. At all. Then their ears popped and the ground quaked with the roar of the detonation. Zeus squinted and dared to look at the inferno. An expanding white finger fueled by fire stretched into the sky. Before he could fully appreciate the scale of what he saw, the shockwave reached the shipyards, blowing dust, trees, vehicles, and more across everything in sight. The Psilons nearly fell and they braced their feet on the asphalt against the harsh wind. The truck was knocked over, killing several of them. Zeus saw Macaria, Ate, and Hephaestus get hit by debris from a building. He fell to his knees and struggled to keep his eyes closed as dirt tore into his skin. Then the heat came and burned anyone who remained.
CV

**THE MESSENGERS**

The Day of the End

It was, in a word, remarkable.

The being stood in the dimly lit marble room with the Caesar, a man whom he tried to influence more than a hundred years ago, and with Thon Ahljaela, a person whose family he had followed and guided for nearly as long.

_So humble and meek were their beginnings_ , he thought. _And here he is. Unbidden by me, he has come to this place in this hour to meet with the most powerful person on the planet_.

"My reckoning?" Maxentius asked.

Ahljaela nodded. "Your destiny."

The Caesar didn't answer. He looked toward Ares and said, "And you?"

He shook his head and said, "I'm with him. This is between you two."

The emperor sighed and clasped his hands behind himself. "I don't know who you are. You have come into my house like a thief. An opportunist. The world burns around us and you've come to... do what?"

"For the moment, talk."

Caesar looked at his throne and took a step toward it. "Very well." He cleared his throat and said, "So, who are you?"

The intruder stood straight and held his head high. "I am Thon Ahljaela. Son of a long line of workers for the Empire. We have been at your mercy for generations."

The imperator nodded. "And I've held you down for centuries, is that it? I and my forefathers?"

Thon nodded once. "Yes."

"Plebeians," Caesar muttered. "You take and take from the Empire and you want more." He saw the man become agitated, "Now, now. It's not only plebeians. The patricians, too. They wanted their favors. They wanted to extend their lives." He shook his head and said, "Millions of them gone now."

"You're welcome."

Maxentius raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so you're a terrorist, too? Bombing datafarms and disabling the Matrix so the Transfers lose their way and vanish into the ether?" Thon nodded. "I see." He glanced toward the window and sighed at the sight of a fire grown larger. "Only now do I begin to feel the loss. The loss of... millennia." He turned from the chair and walked toward the window.

Ahljaela followed. "What are you talking about?"

"The Empire, thief." He put his hand on the glass. It was cool to the touch, but he didn't smile at the sensation this time. "For three thousand years, Tiberia was the greatest nation on the face of the world. In all that time, people took and took. Optimates. Patricians. They took. You workers. Farmers. You took." Caesar looked out the window and nodded toward the fires. "Still taking." He shook his head and spoke louder. "None of you, none of them, can fathom its value. The Empire is falling! And none but I know its worth." His throat seized and he felt tears welling in his eyes. It had been so long since he cried... maybe he should now for the experience.

Thon shook his head. "Millions of your people, your citizens, are dying. Fighting and dying out there. Some against Cylon invaders and the rest because they are hungry and desperate after many hard decades of... of you!" He moved toward the balcony doors and made a fist. "And _you_ are upset because they don't recognize the value of the Empire? That they don't understand the sacrifices _you've_ made?'"

Maxentius thought and stared at billowing smoke. "Yes."

"You're evil."

The Caesar smiled and said, "I don't think so." An ornate clock on the far wall dinged. They turned toward it and saw that it was now midnight.

"No more lies," Ahljaela said. "It's getting late."

"I haven't lied," Caesar said. "Not to you. Not to anyone for a while."

The Messenger moved toward Thon and saw that his mind was racing. Part of him wanted to kill the Caesar now. Another part wanted to rant before him and describe what life had been like under his thumb. He was conflicted.

Ahljaela breathed deeply and he remembered. Four years ago, the datafarm he destroyed. The files he found on his family. He remembered, briefly, the anger that swept through him. Then he felt the relief. The relief of knowledge. The pride. He knew what his family did and tried to do. Those who worked, those who fought, those who conformed. Mar, Rovil, Sado, Kana, Dovi, Rici, Thon. The last Ahljaela was overwhelmed and fell to his knees.

The Caesar didn't notice. Planes flew overheard and he watched them. A patrol of Praetorians raced beneath him in Viminal Square. An explosion on the Avantine Hill briefly illuminated the night. He pounded on the door frame and screamed, "Why?! Why is this happening? Why now?"

Ahljaela looked up and said, softly, "Don't get excited."

"'Excited?'" The emperor turned on his heel and looked down at the man. "How can I not be 'excited' at a time such as this?"

Thon smiled and began to stand. For the first time, he looked at the Caesar with pity. "You're not evil." The emperor's head twitched in surprise. Ahljaela nodded and said, "Like many of them out there... like me for most of my life... you think life is some sort of prank played on you. Opportunity is theirs now, so they're trying to be the jokers for a change. You. You were the joker for two hundred years."

Maxentius still felt angry. Warmth rose through him and washed in waves over his face. But he knew the young man was right. "I tried. I was the _emperor_. I tried to keep everything together." He looked at the new fires and mumbled, "I wasn't the joker. I was the joke." He sighed and said, "Years and years, I struggled against the tide. Nothing seemed to matter in the end."

Thon began to walk toward the Caesar. With each step, he saw and heard another of his ancestors. A tear fell over his cheek. He felt their pains. He saw their revolts and their acquiescence. When Ahljaela reached the balcony doors, he saw that the emperor was weeping, too. "We've both been through that. I see it now."

The emperor nodded. He saw sympathy in Thon's eyes. He hadn't felt someone behold him in such a way for years. Maxentius' torso was racked with an emotional spasm and he inhaled quickly to conceal it. He put his hand on Ahljaela's shoulder and said, "Is this it? Is this the end?"

The intruder looked toward the floor and said, "I don't know. This... might not be our fate."

"Back to that destiny thing, eh?" The Caesar smiled and said, "I made a bargain with destiny, you know. Long ago."

Thon was confused and said, "What do you mean?"

"Before Tiberia invaded Strand. My father, the Caesar, made my older brother the magister for that campaign." He felt himself growing emotional again. He paused and then powered through it. "As the younger brother, I was probably never going to become the emperor. I prayed for the opportunity to take his place. I wasn't a believer or anything, but even the godless occasionally bargain with empty space from time to time, when they're alone. I asked to get where I am now."

"In return for what?"

Maxentius shrugged and turned back to the view. "I believe, in the face of this loss, I'm holding up my end." He remembered Faustus and the relief he showed when his younger brother arrived to kick him out. The emperor understood. He felt guilty then, he still did, but at least he understood that look of relief.

The Caesar also remembered that curious hallucination of Faustus shortly before his death. _'Trying to shoot life into veins you don't even have anymore.'_ Each time the emperor got a new body, he remembered that phrase. He looked down and stroked his fresh fleshly arms. He smiled.

A low-flying plane roared overhead. They ducked and looked outside. Another explosion lit a nearby hill. Another fire raged in a nearby building. The rampage was getting closer. The Caesar began to move away from the window and he roughly moved his hand over his hair. He approached the large conference table and a communications device on it screeched with static and yelling. He picked it up and threw it against the floor. The plastic and metal shattered and the room echoed with the twinkling of its parts across the marble.

Maxentius held his head back and stared at the ceiling. Machine gun fire erupted outside and he shook his head. "There's so much going on." He couldn't turn off the inputs like he could with his robot body. He couldn't disconnect from the Matrix or hide within it to escape. Everything flooded him. He rubbed his eyes and mumbled, "Too much confusion." He leaned forward and braced his arms against the table. After a heavy sigh, he said, "There is no relief."

Ahljaela stood back and watched the emperor dissolve before him. He saw him as he was for the first time in many years. A man. Thon glanced toward the immobile Ares and then took a step toward the Caesar. "I think... we'll leave and let you see the resolution of your bargain."

He looked up from the table and stared at Ahljaela, confused. "Why? Why come here," he motioned toward Thon's attire, "armed and disguised, just to leave me alone."

"I was going to kill you," he answered. "But then I saw you for what you really are."

Caesar almost asked, but he didn't want to know the answer. Thon turned and began to leave. Ares pulled himself from the wall and got ready to walk out, too. Maxentius jogged toward them and spun Ahljaela around. Ares tensed and the emperor asked, "Is there some way out of here?"

"For us, maybe." Thon shrugged and added, "For you... I don't think you can run from this."

The Messenger was stunned. Again, the humans had surprised him. Mercy and pity overrode the anger and revenge this one had felt for years.

Maxentius released Ahljaela and the pair exited the chamber. The door quietly closed behind them and the room was deathly quiet. There were distant, muffled booms and the occasional pops of gunfire. The Caesar closed his eyes and ambled back toward the balcony. After a moment, he opened the doors and walked out.

He glanced down at his suit. It was a fair enough disguise. He might be able to flee. Perhaps not. The sound of hooves on the Square's brick road drew his attention and he looked to the street. Two riders departed the palace walls and rode south. The intruders delayed his escape and unwittingly prevented it. But that was fine. They had given him a gift. Acceptance.

With each blast of wind and the resulting chill that flowed through his body, the Caesar smiled. Tears fell from his eyes and over his cheeks. He stayed on the balcony and thought over his life. He remembered his brother and again thought apologies to him. He thought of his people, the smiling faces of millions who waved and cheered so heartily one hundred years ago at his triumph. They were now out there, clamoring for justice. Maxentius nodded. He had ignored them for too long. His new body growled in hunger. He smiled at the sensation and decided to let it be.

Some time later, he watched the blinking lights of a Cylon bomber high above the city. The gunfire came to a stop. The yelling of the approaching mob ceased. A harsh feeling of foreboding descended on him. He knew it was the end. The emperor wondered if he would feel heat from the device when it detonated, but his body was instantly vaporized in the blast.

Ahljaela and his Psilon companion were far away when that happened. The Messenger remained with them and subtlely guided them away from the encroaching Cylon forces. But the end was still near.

"What do we do?" Thon asked as he wheeled his horse around.

They stared at the glowing cloud far away and Ares said, "We keep riding." Their pace slowed and they headed for a port town. A moment later, he asked, "How do you feel?"

Ahljaela seemed surprised by the question and he said, "What do you mean?"

"You let Caesar live. He's certainly dead now, but you didn't kill him."

Thon nodded. "I feel... good. I feel satisfied. It's hard to explain."

"I think I understand."

The Messenger again regarded Ahljaela with awe and pride. Then the tender was filled with regret. Another bomb was falling. It would strike the nearby town and the duo would be killed. As a last gift to this man who pleased the being so, the Messenger filled his mind with pleasant thoughts and memories and dulled his pain receptors. The flash blinded them, but Thon was not burned. Their horses threw them, but his neck was not broken. A moment later, a blazing shockwave found them and then they were gone.

The Messenger stood and worried. She was surrounded by imminent echoes of fire and destruction. But they had not arrived yet.

"My God," Corol Gaber said. "Please help us. Please help us."

The former soldier lay wrapped in a blanket against the wall of an old house in Tyria. She was surrounded by dozens of other people, soldiers and citizens alike. A year ago, she lost an arm and a leg in a Cylon attack. Her face was scarred and with her one good eye, she stared at the ceiling and prayed.

"Please help us."

The tender wept. For her entire time on this world, she followed the line of the Gaber family. Minah, Nami, Jarrek, Konnar, Jana, Cavim, Berrit, Sulina, Corol. Here it would all end. There was nothing she could do.

An explosion outside caused many of the patients to scream. Cylons fought against the last vestiges of the human military and sprayed them with bullets. Another explosion.

"Please help us."

The being knelt by her side and looked down into her eye. Corol stared through her and skyward. The invisible one held the other's hand and made soothing sounds only she could hear. The woman was not calmed.

"Please help me."

The Messenger stared into her mind and saw only fear. Her memories were of fleeing and fighting. Her faith was present in them all but the being was disgusted at how little her convictions brought her true gains.

"Please."

The Cylons were outside. The patients screamed again as the walls were permeated with bullets. Men fell against the doors and were pulled away by the machines. Three units entered and scanned the room. They spoke wordlessly among themselves and raised their weapons.

"Please."

The being leaned over and whispered, "It is time. You will be at peace."

She betrayed no emotion. She gave no reaction. After a moment, Corol said, "Thank you."

The Cylons quickly aimed and fired small bursts across the room. More than forty people were hit in a few seconds. The Messenger activated Gaber's best memories and released dopamine in her brain. When the three bullets struck her chest, Corol was smiling and she did nothing more than blink in her deaththroes.

The being remained in the empty shack. Forty-two bodies surrounded her. The Cylons had moved on to other places. She looked down and beheld the face of Corol Gaber. Pale and limp, coated with sweat. One cheek was slightly upturned from her last moments alive which were, thankfully, pleasant despite her environs.

The Messenger stood and looked through the roof. A Cylon plane was overhead and it loosed its payload. The tender shook her head and she wept again.

"Futile," she said.

The bomb detonated at the heart of the city and the blast tore the building apart. The fire from her echoes had finally arrived and all was lost.

From that burning landscape, she drifted. For some time, she moved across the land and saw plume after plume of nuclear destruction sprout above cities. Millions, then billions were dying. This world, their mission, was lost.

The Messenger came to a place in the desert, away from the swelling clouds of plasma and flame. It was dry and hot. There was a breeze. The sun was beginning to rise.

She felt weightless. She felt hollow. She felt dead.

For countless ages and on countless worlds, the tender had been placed by The One to shepherd the inhabitants. To foster their survival so that they may choose. Their free will caused their spiritual tree to grow and The One harvested it. This was beyond even the Messengers' understanding, but The One desired it and The One had created them, so it was done. But here, in this plane and on this planet, they failed. The Messenger felt the weight of that loss and took action.

She summoned The One.

"What have you done?" the male tender appeared beside his companion almost instantly and was very agitated.

The female spoke dejectedly, saying, "What must be done. It needs to be told of our failure."

Before the male could respond, The One arrived.

The beings were stunned still by its coming. Light seemed to surround all that they could perceive. A high-pitched hum filled their minds and all their senses became electric. It spoke with its thoughts. Not so much in a language as with communicated ideas.

"Why have you called me?"

The male remained motionless. The female Messenger turned toward the warmest part of the light and began to speak in the manner they reserved for their reports to The One. "Failure. We have failed."

There was the slightest pause. "No. The tree burns but certain shoots have survived. It will grow anew."

"Yes," the male said. "We have managed to preserve a healthy sample of these beings." He turned his focus toward the female and said, almost in a whisper, "The _Draco_ is free and will return. There is another ship, too, to my surprise, that will return. All is well."

The despondent tender was not comforted. "These beings are different from other seeds we have nurtured. They have an awareness of you."

"Of me?"

"Yes," she answered. "Many of them call you 'God.'"

"'God?' How are they aware of me?"

"They are not," the male said.

"Not specifically, no," she continued. "They have faith and hope in a creator deity. One that guides the universe and answers pleas for aid."

"But I do no such thing. I did not create these worlds, nor do I guide the universe or answer pleas."

"I understand, but this is what they believe." Her spirit grew frenzied as she remembered the prayers of Corol Gaber. So overwhelmed was she that she took on Corol's appearance. "This gives them hope and strength."

"I do not care for this belief. Or for this name."

The Messengers understood.

"You have not failed. The tree still lives."

The male was ready to depart but the female tender was still in the midst of her despair. She wailed with the voice of the last Gaber and spilled tears into the sand. "Forgive me, but I cannot fathom all that we have witnessed. I cannot keep it inside me!" The One remained and listened. "I _feel_ their losses and their gains more fully."

"It seems unique to this plane and this world," the male said.

His companion continued and gazed deeply into the light, "I spent years upon years with whole branches of this world's tree. Generations with beings who believed in you and praised your name despite all the ills that befell them." Her visage shifted and her being became imbued with the memories of Minah Gaber. "I cannot believe that our faith was for nought!"

"I heard no pleas. I heard no praise."

"I know," she cried.

"But you did."

Was The One accusing her of failing to act? She hesitated and spoke softly, "I did."

"You aided and guided them to the best of your ability."

Again, she said, "I did."

"And the tree of this world survives. Damaged, but it survives."

For a moment, she was comforted, but anguish gnawed at her anew. "But toward what end? So many thousands are now lost forever!" Minah lowered her face into her hands and continued, "They did not aid the growth of the tree. We burned in its fires!"

Now, for the first time, the other Messenger was stirred to sympathy. He moved toward her and said, "No. I believe you are wrong." She was surprised not only by his words but also by his demeanor. "I, too, spent time with many generations of beings... I found something significant about them. Something I had not anticipated."

The female listened and turned from The One to gaze into her companion. "Go on."

"I guided and observed a line of beings that the rest would deem 'lowly.' They were poor in many ways but they were not poor in spirit or perseverance. Most noteworthy of all, I found that they contributed to the growth of the tree in unexpected ways. Momentous ways."

His companion began to feel relief. Her form returned to the blank energy of the Messenger. Her emotions teetered on a brink and she urged, "Go on."

"For generations, these 'lowly' branches of the tree existed and at the end, its scion met with the single most influential branch that remained. A century ago, I tried to guide and influence this being but he would not bend. But this young man... he journeyed far and managed to do what I could not. I had believed that fear was the greater motivator, moreso than faith. But I beheld a man who had neither. And he bent that branch."

The female pulled away and said, "Perhaps, but humanity still burns."

"You do not understand," the Messenger said. "The influence did not matter at the end of all things, but our guidance did change the outcome of those branches. Our guidance changed the growth of mankind." The being held her close and said, "Our efforts have not been for nothing. Even in its fire, the tree grew more than it would have due to our influence. Because of our influence, the tree yet grows." Now the male tender looked into The One's light and said, "I am profoundly affected by what I have witnessed. I shall keep it with me 'til the end of all time. If I can, I will use what I have learned to further the growth of all other trees here."

The female wept and said, "I am gladdened by this, but I remain saddened by the loss. I am pained that their faith and thoughts are wasted."

The male knew not how to respond and withdrew from her.

The One, however, pulled her near.

"Come with me."

From the desert, the Messenger was removed and taken beyond the limits of that planet and her own abilities. She saw Larsa, engulfed in fire and war, from high above.

"By your nature, you cannot perceive what I perceive when I look upon a world. I will try to show you as much as you might comprehend."

She was cold and felt as though she was falling, but The One held her close. The warmth of its light sated her and kept her from fear.

Larsa stretched before her and became a solid line, wrapping about its star. In the distant past, in the distant future, the fires were gone and green returned to the world.

"I do not wish to know all, though I could see it if I desired it." The Messenger grew dizzy from the motion of the globe. "But I will show you why I have come here and why you have been placed here."

The whirling of the world dissolved and a singular glow emerged from the blackness of space. The tender was fearful and clung tightly to The One's light. She was safe and the glow grew brighter. It reached toward them and sprites flew from the central stalk and began to wrap around them. She stared in wonder at the glowing lines and watched them divide and divide again. Soon, they were enmeshed in millions of divergent branches of light. When she looked up, the light continued beyond her sight.

"I have seen the tree before, but never like this," she said.

"No, not like this."

Branches formed from other branches and moved around them. Flowers blossomed, leaves unfurled and the tree grew evermore.

"These are the decisions made by a free world. A world of free, sentient minds. For each being's choice, new possibilities emerge. New choices are made possible. It is nigh an infinity of decisions. Do you feel its power?"

In her fear, the Messenger had closed herself off to the light of the tree, but, slowly, she lowered her guard. A cool breeze blew through her and she felt as though she were buoyed on a calm lake. Only in The One's care had she felt anything as pleasing as this. There was familiarity here, and power. She stared as a thick branch moved toward her and smaller sticks grew from it. Leaves sprouted near her and showered her in bursts of warmth. A flower blossomed in her face and its beauty made her quake.

"This is how I perceive this world. This is why you are here. You guide these beings that they may yet live and may make new decisions and have new thoughts. You guide the branches and help the tree grow. This is precious to me. Humanity is, therefore, precious to me. I will return and harvest this energy at the end of this realm."

So enraptured was she by the glory of the tree that she did not respond. The One sensed her ecstasy and decided to return her to her own plane. In the desert, the male tender patiently awaited his companion. When she was placed on the sandy floor again, he beheld a being far different than the one who left his side a moment ago.

"This world persists. These beings persist. Continue to shepherd them."

"We will," the male answered.

A moment later, the warming light of The One vanished from Larsa.

For a moment, the male was depressed at the loss of that presence, but he recovered and turned toward the female. She smiled and still reeled in the pleasing mania of her voyage.

"Are you well?"

She paused and then turned to her companion. "Very."

The Messenger was discomfited by her condition and said, "Were you shown the impact of our guidance?"

She nodded and said, "Oh, yes."

The beings began to drift from the desert and he asked, "And your earlier concerns? Have you come to some conclusion on the matter?"

"Yes." She thought and smiled. She remembered the love that Minah Gaber and her children and her children's children felt and expressed. She remembered the feelings of despair that were overcome with simple whisperings or quick thoughts. She remembered the joy that they experienced at the mere mentioning or thought of his name. And then she recalled her own elation and comfort felt in The One's presence. The Messenger said, "God is love."

The male was confused by this. He shook his head and said, "You know the nature of it. You know The One does not have love, as we know it, for humans." The light began to fade from her eyes and he added, "The faith you have employed is a tool."

Her reverie fell away and she said, "It is. But my feelings remain."

Eager to change the subject at hand, the male tender turned his attention to the south and said, "The _Draco_ is millennia away from returning. There are many thousands who need guidance on the southern continent for now. Shall we go?"

She nodded and began to move over the sea. "Yes."

As they traveled, the male wondered again at his comrade's time with The One. He turned to her and asked, "What do you have now that you lacked before its visit?"

She smiled and said, "I have hope."

END OF PRELUDE

**COMING SOON**

Filling in the blanks between _Lords of Kobol_ and the TV series _Caprica_ and _Battlestar Galactica_...

**ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS** **& CONTACTS**

First off, many thanks to Ronald D. Moore, David Eick and everyone else involved with _Battlestar Galactica_ and _Caprica_. Needless to say, their work is among the greatest ever produced for television and has been inspiring. Also, thanks to Glenn Larson for creating the original series, giving rise to the whole universe.

Thanks also to Bear McCreary and his gang of musicians. His soundtracks for _Galactica_ and _Caprica_ , while over thirteen hours long, provided many weeks and months of enjoyment and mood setting. When rereading this book, there are some chapters I can't look over without hearing that iconic music.

Thanks also to the following authors and their books: _Wheelock's Latin_ (Frederic M. Wheelock), _Classical Myth_ (Barry Powell), _The Science of Battlestar Galactica_ (Patrick DiJusto & Kevin Grazier - thanks also to Kevin for occasionally answering my questions personally), _Caesar: Life of a Colossus_ (Adrian Goldsworthy), and _Beyond Caprica: A Visitors Pocket Guide to the Twelve Colonies_ (Bob Harris).

Kees de Graf's essay on "All Along the Watchtower" was very helpful. It must also be noted that some quotes of Bob Dylan's from a 2004 _60 Minutes_ interview were used as dialogue.

Special thanks to Latin teacher Jason Tiearney for his help with my "Tiberian" words and phrases.

Website-wise, several sites were helpful, including the ancient Greek and ancient Roman sections of BehindTheName.com, the detailed maps available at NationMaster.com, Wikipedia.org, and BattlestarWiki.org.

Lastly, thanks to the many thousands of readers who enjoyed the trilogy and kept asking for more. Why you wanted more, I'm not sure. Regardless, I hope you've enjoyed reading it half as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Visit ety3rd.com for more books and information.

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Blog: ety3rd.blogspot.com – This blog serves as a kind of "DVD Special Features" section for my books. You'll find art, stories about the writing of the novels and much more.
OTHER BOOKS BY EDWARD T. YEATTS III:

Lords of Kobol – Book One: Apotheosis

Lords of Kobol – Book Two: Descent

Lords of Kobol – Book Three: The Final Exodus

Displaced

Diary of a Second Life

8 Days

The Art of Death

Sexcalation

The Red Kick

