"But how is it possible you're here?" Keylar asked.

"We humans have invented a device that allows us to travel through time. We can shift from one period to another quite easily."

"And why did you come here?" Keylar asked suspiciously.

Jaydon did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned on a side, his hand now reaching for Vyler, tracing the contours of his beautiful face. "Actually, my mission was to help plan your escape," he admitted at last.

"But..." a look of surprise spread on Keylar's face.

"Oh yes, you are supposed to escape right into the arms of death."

"What are you talking about, precious?"

Jaydon did not stop caressing Vyler. "Love is so unpredictable," he answered instead. "I thought my mission was easy, until I saw you, lover," his fingers traced Vyler's mouth. "And everything changed."

No one spoke for a while.

"When you saw me on that hill," Jaydon resumed after a while, "I was thinking about the easiest way to get everyone packing. Then I saw you and I couldn't let you die."

Keylar objected. "If we leave, we're going to live and-"

"It's a trap, Your Highness," he cut her short.

His harsh words gave no hope. "A trap?" she asked at last.

"Yes, Keylar, a trap. My people are not very considerate of others, particularly the ones that live in the past. On my world...well, actually in my time, a meteorite, a stone from the sky, is about to impact the Earth, causing ma.s.s destruction. Unfortunately, we lack the means to destroy it, so we're resorting to the only technology we have-"

"You're going to send it back in time?" Keylar asked.

"Exactly. That's why you saw the destruction. But we carefully selected a place in time and s.p.a.ce where no one would get hurt. Now your plans to leave would take you exactly under the impact point."

"So if we stay, nothing bad will happen to Atlantis?" Vyler asked.

Jaydon nodded. "The real danger is leaving Atlantis," he argued. "If you stay, the catastrophe will take place so far away that you won't even feel it."

Again, silence fell in the room. Keylar looked at Jaydon, doubts clouding her eyes. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" she inquired at last.

Jaydon got up and searched his pockets, returning with a small metallic object in his hands, clearly not a product of Atlantis's technology. "See this device? It's what allows for time travel. If I push this b.u.t.ton here, I would disappear from view."

"Try it," Keylar challenged.

"No, wait," Vyler almost shouted, but he was too late. Jaydon disappeared. Keylar and Vyler were left alone. "Where did he go?" Vyler got up, looking around the room "Why did you have to-"

Jaydon reappeared before Vyler had time to finish his sentence.

The dark man embraced the blond creature tightly. "Precious, I thought I lost you."

"No, lover," Jaydon returned Vyler's embrace. "As I said, I love you and now I'd find it hard to leave you. That's why, in spite of my mission, I want to help you."

"What was your mission?"

"I was to lead you straight to the point of impact."

"But why would your people want to wipe out a civilization thousands of years before theirs?"

Jaydon gently untied himself from Vyler's embrace and went to Keylar.

"My lady," he said softly, "you will influence future generations for centuries. You have reached one of the highest points in human civilization and if we wiped you out, we would condemn the world to poverty, sufferings and wars."

"So why would anyone want that?"

"Because there are people who would gain power and money from the world's miseries. They want to control everyone, but it's not possible if people live under your influence."

"But if you don't carry out the mission, they'll punish you."

Jaydon shrugged. "I'll destroy the device so they can never reach me."

"Then you'll stay with me forever, precious?"

Jaydon turned to Vyler. "Come here lover," he said softly.

Vyler reached them on the carpet.

Jaydon pulled him close, kissing him pa.s.sionately. "I love you," he repeated. "I don't ever want to leave you."

Before anyone could say another word, Jaydon's fiery touch sparked new desire. Keylar did not stop to think. She gave in to her senses so easily it was like slipping into a warm pool, drowning out all other concerns. And it was not just temporary. From that day on, Keylar fell into a dream-like state, only coming alive at nights, firmly held between the two men who loved her inside out. In the meantime, plans were undone, her new task definitely easier than the former one. It was simpler to convince people to stay rather than push them to leave. Yet the issue did not seem as important as it had before. Lost in the world of sensual pleasure, Keylar's reality became the burning night with its fire and desire that only they could quench. As if drugged, she faced each new day with less awareness, shutting out any thought of the future...whatever it came to be.

"So we're not leaving anymore?" she asked one last time.

"No, honey, there's no need to." Vyler turned to Jaydon. "Right, precious?"

"Exactly, lover." The blond man bent down to kiss the Sun Priest. "By my calculations, the danger is over, so there's just one last thing for me to do-"

"To destroy your device," Keylar finished the sentence for him.

He nodded.

"Can we help, precious?"

"I wish you could, lover." Jaydon looked at Vyler, regret burning within him. "But I have to do it by myself. This device is very dangerous to people not of my world. When I destroy it, the metallic components will give off harmful rays, which are fatal to anyone who is not properly shielded. I have an induced natural immunity to those rays, so they won't harm me, no matter what I do to the device."

"Will it take long, precious?"

"No, lover." Jaydon stole another kiss. "I'll be back at sunrise, don't worry."

"Captain Jaydon, please report on your mission."

"It was a complete success, sir."

"Good. We achieved all our objectives?"

"Yes, sir. The nuclear explosion wiped out Atlantis and all its people. Temperatures dropped below freezing point, and ice covered the land almost on impact."

"Good. No one's going to find them below all that ice," the general grinned at Captain Jaydon. "So you convinced them to stay after all?"

A fleeting moment of regret shot through his heart, but was quickly repressed. His world did not look kindly on emotions, especially when they hindered duty. "I evidently did," Jaydon concluded at last, looking around him.

A sea of faces returned his gaze with satisfaction. They had definitely reached their objective.

"Yes, Captain," the general agreed. "We finally succeeded in wiping them all out and sent them to freezing h.e.l.l. Now, we're the only ones left on the planet."

The plan had been magnificent from the start, Jaydon could not argue with their logic. His heart twitched. Pain was just a step away and he knew his future would hold nothing less from then on. Pain and the awareness of betrayal. Vyler's face floated in front of him, the lovely black features he had loved. But his duty came first, as it always had.

"Yes, sir, your plan worked just fine," he agreed.

At that same exact moment, while congratulations on their success were still pa.s.sed around, fire from the sky burned down on them.

The n.o.ble Athenian Alexis Anthony A fair wind drove the warship west across the sea toward home. The large, cold waves of the North Atlantic were topped by whitecaps and the spray soaked the sailors on the deck. Those aloft were baked by the Sun. The sails and the rigging strained to push the ship from wave to wave.

Trontarow peered west at the dark, bluish green rollers as they sped beneath the hull. The ship surfed each large wave. These were the best sailors the world had ever seen. The Pillars of Hercules were behind them, pa.s.sed days ago. The fleet should arrive home today. He expected a hail from the masthead any minute.

"Sir?"

Trontarow turned his head to face the ship's Captain. "Yes, Mixius?"

"Sir, breakfast is prepared."

Trontarow smiled grimly. Breakfast on a warship long at sea was nothing to look forward to. But no one was allowed to eat before the Admiral unless or until he authorized it. "Very well, Captain, send the hands to breakfast. I will meet you in the wardroom in a few moments." He leaned on the taffrail, looking once more across the sea. "The wind, the spray is invigorating this morning, isn't it?"

"It is, My Lord Admiral. Especially since we should be home soon."

"Ah, yes," said Trontarow, "home." He straightened up and turned toward the companionway. He was a tall man, built more like an Atlantean soldier than a sailor. Captain Mixius was built more like a sailor, st.u.r.dy, medium height, with powerful arms and legs. Trontarow's ancestors had all been soldiers. His parents had been against his decision to go to sea as a boy. But it had been the right course. He was returning as the most successful commander in the history of Atlantis.

It had been a brutal struggle. When he had left these waters four years ago in command of the Fleet and the Army, it had been far from a sure thing that they would be coming home at all. Athens had struck out at Atlantean colonies and trading ports. They had raised an armed force greater and more competent than ever before, and the other Greek States had joined the Athenian cause-even Corinth and Sparta.

c.o.c.ky, after military success against Persia and Troy, they had made it their mission to drive out any other challenges to their authority. In a word, Atlantis. They had always been envious of Atlantean technical superiority. The peaceful Atlantean traders were taken unawares. The Athenians slaughtered them and plundered their outposts.

Atlantis had no choice. Attacks like that were acts of war that had to be crushed. Athens was gathering her strength for an a.s.sault on Atlantis itself. Trontarow had risen to the challenge. Four years ago he had sailed east with the finest fighting force ever gathered. They were not as numerous as the Greek forces, but they were more disciplined, better equipped, and led by Atlantis's greatest military leader, Admiral Trontarow.

One more look to the west and the Admiral joined his Captain and went below. They were met in the wardroom by the ship's officers and Trontarow's chief lieutenants.

"Good morning, Sir."

Trontarow looked around. All good men. Not the same group he had begun the campaign with, but all good men. Maybe better than the original bunch. The breakfast even smelled pretty good.

"Roast mutton, Sir," said the Steward. "We've been saving it for this day. There's enough for all hands."

Trontarow couldn't help smiling. They knew he would have chastised them if they had presented him with something special and served the rest of the crew nothing but the stale ship's biscuits and water.

He went to the head of the table and sat down. The rest of them then sat. The conversation was all about home, loved ones, and "what will I do first?". He didn't say much. They knew he wouldn't. He never did. He ate slowly, savoring the feast. Tonight most of them would be in their homes. The Captain didn't have a family. He would remain aboard his ship. Too bad about the Captain. His family had been wiped out by an Athenian raiding party at an outpost on Crete.

He looked around at them. These battle hardened men who had fought for him and for Atlantis. How would they fare in peacetime? The Athenian-Greek alliance was broken. Their cities in ruins. Their ships at the bottom of the Aegean Sea. They were no longer a threat and wouldn't be for a long time to come.

Atlantis was a peaceful land, peopled by a strong, proud race, not interested in conquest. But peace has a price- it takes eternal vigilance and overwhelming strength. The world would see peace for years, maybe decades, but eventually, some new ambitious demiG.o.d would rise up and challenge Atlantis and the status quo. Hopefully, there would be men like these who would once again fight to preserve the peace.

The men chatted and ate their meal as the ship rose and fell over the waves.

"Land ho!"

The ancient hail from the masthead that proclaimed the approach of a ship to dry land excited them all.

The officer of the deck responded, "Where away?"

"A point off the port bow."

The men in the wardroom all looked nervously at their Admiral. He rarely permitted anything to interrupt his meal, especially breakfast. Trontarow permitted himself a little smile. "Go ahead," he said.

They all scrambled to exit the cabin and climb the companionway to the deck.

Mixius lingered. "We've a fair wind. We'll be home in time for the mid-day meal."

The Admiral looked at his Captain. "Take us home, Mixius. I want to sleep in the arms of my wife tonight. And I know I'm not the only one."

"Aye, Sir," said Mixius. He was gone, his footfalls going up the companionway and thudding across the deck.

Trontarow wiped his mouth with his napkin. He stood and nodded at the steward. When he appeared on deck he saw nothing but grins and smiles on the men. Half of them had climbed into the rigging, hoping for a glimpse of home. He couldn't help smiling himself. "Mixius," he said, "would you please have your Master at Arms bring the Athenian to me?"

"Aye, Sir."

The very tip of the tallest peak was just becoming visible over the horizon. Trontarow felt a little thrill and his heart fluttered when he actually saw that. He was still watching as more and more came into view, when he heard a "harumph" behind him. He turned. It was the Master at Arms with the Athenian. "Ah, Diapaxia. I wanted you to see this. You've never seen Atlantis."

"No Sir, I haven't."

The Athenian stood before the Admiral, clad as in battle in only his helmet, greaves and sandals. The Greeks fought naked. They believed it gave their bodies more freedom.

"There it is. It's not like Greece, all rocky and hilly, but we do have our mountains. Our cities are larger and more spread out. And we don't have all those walls you people are so fond of building. We've never needed them. We don't fight among ourselves."

"Sparta doesn't have any walls."

Trontarow smiled. "That's true. I've heard their boast that every Spartan is a part of the wall around their city so they don't need one made of stone. But we just have never had a need for walls. The Sea isolates us from those who would harm us and, like I said, we don't fight among ourselves."

"Fighting makes us strong."

Trontarow frowned at him. "It also makes you weak."

The Athenian opened his mouth as if to retort, then he closed it without saying a word.