The Old Ones Talking
The Old Ones were restless. There had been a shift. Changes were coming. The Heiress was beginning to understand; they could help her now and there was hope that she could be a powerful leader. There was hope she could be more powerful than Catherine. First she had to find her way around some immediate obstructions, then, and only then, she would be able to exert some control. If she could complete her education – if she could learn all there was to learn in the buried city she would be equipped for a long, informed, reign that would bring humans back to humanity. They could only watch and wait. “Not long now,” Fiona was saying.
“Not long now,” they all agreed and hoped. With every fibre of their beings they hoped for Meira to succeed.
Raid on Atlantis
Bill Brown was awake when the door was opened by armed troops who moved in quickly. Shit, he thought, but he didn’t say that. He thought it because in an instant he realised he’d been drinking too long and had missed the signs. He was pissed on whiskey and under attack by well trained soldiers. Damn and shitt. Damn, damn, double damn and shit. He shook his head and stood but he was pushed down again. His sidearm was across the table but taken immediately. He sat back, waiting for the next move – waiting for an officer. He didn’t see one. His head exploded.
Meira awoke to the sounds of vehicles moving quickly, then stopping, running feet, banging doors then shouting. She leapt from her bed pulled trousers up and sweater down then moved cautiously through the door. Ben had his back to her in the entrance to the meeting area; beyond him she could see military uniforms. Orders were flying in an unfamiliar language. She struggled to listen over other sounds of heavy boots and engines and a more subdued conversation in English. She returned to her room and stood – thinking. She was still deciding what to do when she was pulled noiselessly from behind and bundled out the rear door.