Titans: The Resistance #38

“You cannot say that Plato made up the myth of Atlantis. You did not live at the time of him or any of his contemporaries, or do you have some scroll that no one else knows about which debunks the existence of Atlantis?”
--Anonymous internet poster using the screen name ‘Ortagion’

“Where did Plato’s revelation of the continent of Atlantis come from? Plato’s revelation was told to him by a man named Solon, who in turn received the information about Atlantis from the ancient Egyptians. If it’s just a story, it is one heck of an intriguing one! A thrilling reality to this wonderful piece of writing, is that the end of the transcript has been lost. What was at the end of the transcript...we will never know. He talked of Gods and spirits that made the islanders what they were. An ancient influence that could have come from anywhere. Could it have come from the stars? And is it just plain mythology, or is there a glimpse of truth in the evidence?”
--Shawna Ranae Bandow

-1-

“At last,” Deriven said.

Rose, who had been looking up at the stars, stared at him. “What?”

Deriven blinked twice. He turned away from the sea and faced her. “My apologies. As you know, I have been trying to contact the Atlanteans for some time. They have....answered.”

Rose exhaled slowly. Her father had crossed paths with the underwater peoples a few times. It had never gone well. “They are actually willing to negotiate?”

“To give us an audience, at least. They are pleased at any opposition to the Markovians, and are interested in a restoration of magic from the planes.” He paused. “Which is not to say your concerns are unfounded. They are hostile, and wary.”

“....but you still want to do this?” Rose said.

Deriven nodded. “Oh, absolutely. It has been part of the necessary restoration of magic to this world for generations.”

“I can’t imagine the surface nations being happy about this news,” Rose said, carefully.

“Oh, rest assured I don’t intend to announce the existence of Atlantis to all and sundry,” Deriven reassured her. “The Atlanteans would never speak to me if such was my plan. But if I wanted to give away the geographic location, I could have done that before now. They know this.”

“What?” Rose blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Certainly. You or your father could have done the same, with a little calculation and extrapolation. I’m sure they knew that too. Which is probably why they tolerated you as much as they did.”

“That wasn’t very much,” Rose murmured.

“Did they attack you outright? Were any of your crews killed?”

“No,” she admitted.

He spread his hands. “Given their past history with the surface, that was generous indeed. But in any case, those people in society who already had hope and belief in Atlantis will find further documentation and hope for that view. By the time the surface nations begin to seriously consider the possibility of Atlantis’s existence, Atlantis will be more than ready for them.” He smiled briefly. “Indeed, they are capable of handling the surface now. Their problems....are more localized. Some of them are internal, some have to do with neighbors on the sea bottom.”

“Right.....remind me not to ask you for exposition, like, ever again.” Rose meant it too.

Deriven actually laughed. “Do I get the impression you don’t want to be involved in this?”

“Honestly? I’m ambivalent. I just don’t want to risk my ship. Wintergreen would be all over me if I did, anyway; but in this case, I agree with him. We’ll call the others in, and I’ll probably go with you when we do.”

“I can’t imagine Wintergreen liking that, either,” Deriven pointed out.

Rose grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. “He won’t. But he’ll live with it.” She turned away from him. She hoped to unsettle the mage, but she doubted it. In any case, it was time to contact the others.

-2-

Atlantis.

Deep beneath the sea.

The murky waters of the sea bottom were hard to see through. Atlantis was lit from within, but even so, the gold-green light didn’t extend very far into those inky-black depths.

The pressure of the sea bottom was no trouble. The Atlanteans were more than strong enough for that. But the darkness.....the peoples of Atlantis knew that darkness, yes. Their senses could penetrate, both sight and hearing, to a degree. Nevertheless, the darkness was vast and awesome. For Atlanteans, the difference between Light and Dark was not merely symbolic; it had always been literal.

The citadel was tall, gleaming spires of gold, silver and green, the occasional sea emerald or sapphire placed to enhance the beauty of Atlantis. Curiously, there weren’t many sea-themed decorations, save for statues of sharks and dolphins guarding the golden gates of the city, the only way in past the high city wall. Above the wall were fields of energy, not to keep the water out. To them, water was air, and the surface a foul, poisonous place, even before you took environmental outrages by surfacers into account.

There were over two million Atlanteans, and outlying towers and communities beneath the seabed accounted for another fifty thousand. Their society was elegant, and ancient; they had seen surface civilization rise and fall several times, going well back before Greece and China. But with longevity comes hubris.....and stagnation.

Queen Mera descended the golden stairs of the Imperial Palace, to where her husband sat on his throne. As always and ever, he brooded over affairs of state. There were surfacer sayings about the uneasy head that wears the crown, but Mera knew of them only in passing, and besides Atlantean lore was older, and more constant and consistent in an open, unending chain going back thousands of years.

She went to sit in her own silver-wrought emerald-appointed throne beside her husband. “More revolts planned by the immortal sorceress?”

“Nay, my Queen. Circe has been silent for some time. Rather the psychic message from the surfacer mage. Who may be useful, but may also be a threat. But more than anything, it is our children that concern me now.”

“They are of that age,” she said. “Young and headstrong.” For Atlanteans, this was the forties and fifties, whereas for surfacers it was the teens and twenties. Atlanteans had longer lifespans, amongst other things.

“Yes, but I worry. The timing is bad.”

“There is never any such thing as good timing for wayward thoughts. Such has it always been. What are Garth and Tula up to?”

“He is listening to the rabble-rowsers amongst the commoners,” the King murmured. “And she is spending more and more time outside the city. The shark-men or the Mantis Lord may find her. I dislike it.”

“You worry more for Tula than Garth?” she said, mildly surprised.

“I worry for Tula on her own account; I worry what long-term harm Garth may do to our civilization.”

She put a hand on his arm. “The radicals today are not led by Circe or your late brother. They are true idealists.”

“That makes it all the worse. The cynical can be bought, or at least negotiated with. True fanatics are only satisfied when blood is spilled.”

Mera sighed. Orin was a fair and just king, the best in generations. But he was still a hard bitten traditionalist for all that. “They may surprise you, my love.”

“And they may not.”

“In any case,” Queen Mera went on, “Why not have Tula meet the surfacers? Since she is so eager to experience life outside the city?”

King Orin looked at her, and while no smile touched his lips, there was a glimmer of one in his eyes. “You are wise, my Queen. And a far better choice than her brother, as well. Yes, it shall be so.” He paused. “They will be here soon.”

“For my part, I wonder that the surfacers would even talk to us,” she said.

“These are not ordinary surfacers,” the King replied. “A mage, some of the raiders we’ve had dealings with before, and a group of surfacers who are rabble-rowsers in their own right, against the largest and worst of the surfacer governments.”

“Perhaps Garth would have been the better choice then?” Mera said, half in jest.

“Nay, not for the initial meeting. This requires....diplomacy.”

“In any case, I wonder that you agreed to meet them at all.”

“I do not go into this casually, my dear,” he assured her. “Their conduct shall determine their fate.”



-3-

Robin unleashed a whirling kick and took two men down with one strike.

Batman was bashing two thugs’ skulls together on the other side of the rundown apartment.

“I’m actually in the middle of a case here,” Robin said apologetically into the communicator link. “I know it’s not your thing either, but maybe we should just let Deriven handle it with whoever wants to go with him.”

“My ship is involved, whether I want it to be or not,” Rose’s frustrated voice came back. “But yeah, that new alien girl is settling in well. Her and Supergirl have been talking a lot.”

“Girl talk?” Robin returned, half-teasing.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? I would too. But Supergirl is all ‘scientist’ and Starfire is all ‘warrior’.....it’s more like an exchange of information. Not all of it friendly either. Starfire keeps challenging Supergirl to combat; Supergirl keeps backing off and offering data. It’s weird. I don’t think they like each other....but they can talk to each other more than any of us. Anyway, Terra’s on the way already; I’ll tell her she’ll have to handle this without her lover boy.”

“We’re not lovers,” Robin protested, just a little too loudly.

“Yet,” Rose chuckled. “You’re both too shy; you’ll get there. Anyhow, Starfire can fill your spot, and this is mostly Deriven’s show anyway, as you pointed out. I just don’t want him jeopardizing my damn ship.”

“Roger that,” Robin said, and broke the connection.

“Back to work,” Batman said without rancor.

-4-

“A race of undersea warriors?” Starfire asked, frowning.

“Fascinating,” Supergirl murmured.

“They’ve clashed many times,” said Deriven. “With the surface nations, with other undersea races, with an evil sorceress named Circe...”

“I thought you said magic had been cut off from this world,” Terra said. “Until you brought it back?”

“If your world had ever been truly cut off from all magic, I wouldn’t be able to enter it at all, much less help restore magic to it. Moreover, your world would have become a dull, sterile technocrat place even the Empire wouldn’t want, and then everything would have, over a period of twenty years or so, died completely. What had happened was that your world had stopped believing in magic, for the most part. Very few could use it, but few is not none. Especially those who are well-researched and call upon the darkness.”

“Yeah, thanks for the info-dump,” Rose sneered. “But back to business. How do we get down there without sinking my ship? I mean, my fleet does have a couple submarines in it, but....”

“No, I would not ask that of you in any case,” Deriven assured her. “While they might be able to survive the pressure of the depths, getting too close to Atlantis itself might provoke a.....hostile reaction.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rose muttered.

“Besides, once they finally contacted me, they were very specific about how we would get there, both in terms of means of transport and path. We only need the Sweet Lilli to get us to the right point on the surface of the ocean. After that, it will be up to my own arts.”

Rose didn’t bother to ask if he was expecting trouble. Mister Super Mage, as she thought of him, could have gone on his own otherwise. She did wonder briefly if they should wait for Robin to be available, then dismissed the idea. They could handle themselves; and in the unlikely--but not impossible--scenario that this voyage to the deep did finish them all off, then it would be a good idea for there to be at least one of them left to start over. She knew, as well as any of them did, that the Markovian Empire was not resting on its laurels. While no idealist, she knew only too well that the Resistance must live; at all costs.

-5-

At Deriven’s prompting, Rose piloted the Sweet Lilli to a point not very far from the Azores, which in the old days had been Portugese. Now it was Markovian, though the Empire had little more than a tokenistic presence there. The natives were sympathetic; Rose had actually sheltered ships there now and then, and her father before her. But they weren’t going back there now.

Deriven called for a stop, and while it galled Rose no end, she accommodated him. “Full stop,” she told Wintergreen.

The others were relatively calm, save Starfire, who was irritably prowling the deck. Terra showed a little nervousness in her eyes; Rose guessed it had more to do with missing Robin than anything else. Rose turned to Deriven “What now, Mister Magic, you teleport us down? Or use a magic bubble?”

“The latter is a good guess, but no.” Deriven led them to the starboard side of the ship, muttered a few words and spread his hands.

The ocean surface boiled, then slowly a roughly-rectangular hole spread open.

“Parting the Red Sea, only it’s the Atlantic, in handy-dandy pint-sized form,” Rose mused. “I assume we’ll adjust to pressure too?”

“Gradually as we go,” Deriven agreed.

“Fascinating,” Supergirl murmured.

“Looks fun,” Argent said, smiling.

“Fun?” Anarky repeated blankly.

“Hah!” Rose snorted. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Enough banter, I think,” Terra said dryly. “Down to business.”

Deriven climbed over the side of the ship without ceremony. He jumped, landing not on water but on thin air. He stepped forward, then downward, into the rectangular hole in the water’s surface.

“Care to make your magic ramp visible, there?” Rose asked.

“Eh? Oh yes, certainly.” Deriven made a sweeping, absent-minded gesture, and the path glowed a translucent yellow-white. All of them walked on it, save Starfire, who flew down.

“You’ll get tired after a while,” Terra said to her.

“No, my people are comfortable in flight,” Starfire answered. It was not the arrogance it first appeared, Rose realized, but simple honest truth.

“Should I bring any of my crew?” Rose prompted, looking back at a very worried Wintergreen.

“I thought you didn’t want to risk them,” Deriven said. He held up a hand to forestall her response. “In any case, no. That would most likely provoke them.”

“Right,” Rose sighed.

Down they went.

-6-

Prince Garth walked along one of the main thoroughfares of the great city.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sister, Princess Tula swimming in the opposite direction. Disdaining the roads, she hurried as fast as possible towards the city gates, where a surfacer envoy, of all things, was expected. She should have walked; it was hours until the surfacers were due, and given that it was a diplomatic mission, protocol should be observed.

Garth was ambivalent towards the surface peoples. They could either be useful, or an impediment, depending on circumstances. Work with them, use them, or kill them; it was all the same to him. In any event they were all so very far away, and while sometimes their actions did harm the seas, their impact on Atlantis was negligible.

It was the ‘great society’ and its own internal failings that concerned him. In this he was of one mind with his father, though he was in favor of radically-different solutions.

He marched along the road, fast but not too fast, acknowledging nods from the citizenry as he passed. He couldn’t exactly make his presence secret without the use of disguises. So he had instead decided to hide his activity in plain sight; he was inspecting the foundations for signs of attack by Shark Men, as was his royal prerogative. His father approved. His father also approved that he deigned the use of bodyguards.

Of course, his father was no fool, and had long since suspected that he was spending time with the more radical elements of Atlantean society. What he did not know was how radical those plans were, or just how much of a collusion with them he was already involved in.

The question might be asked why he was working with such people in the first place, when he himself would one day take the throne. But it was not simply a matter of royal decree. The King was restrained in his actions both by the Queen and the various lords of the noble houses, save in matters of defense. Many a would-be reformer had been stymied down the years by such constraints....by such stagnation.

Also, Garth was simply impatient. He did not wish to wait.

But by the same token, had he not agreed to work with the underground, they might have provoked an open, bloody revolt. That would never do, either. Too many innocent lives would be lost, and at the same time the shark men or the Mantis Lord, or worse, Circe, would take advantage. Garth would never tolerate such a thing. He very much wanted what was best for the people.

Thinking these thoughts, he passed into the maintenance chambers in the lowest depths of the city. Below this were the foundations themselves; nothing down there except the occasional cave in the seabed. The nearest underground settlement was two leagues away.

He passed through the maintenance channel, then out onto the sea floor, where three of his allies were waiting for him in the inky blankness, lit by the yellow sea lanterns they had brought with them.

“Where are the other two?” he asked without preamble.

“Called away to defend the outlying settlements against the Shark Men,” one of them answered.

He frowned at that. “Do you think they have heard of the surfacer envoy? Do they have spies amongst us, Charel?”

“Unlikely. Shark Men do not make pact with Atlantis. Not for five thousand years. Now they only eat us.” Charel shuddered. “If any spy amongst us, it would be for Circe or the Mantis Lord.”

“That’s no better. Check everyone. Do it thoroughly.”

“Will do,” Charel promised. “We won’t be sabotaged at this late date!”

Garth nodded. “As little blood as possible. My....parents,” he swallowed, “And the rulers of the key noble houses. No more than that.”

“It shall be as you say.” Charel and the others bowed.

“Do you think the surfacers will be of any use?” one of the others, a young woman named Skiras, asked.

Garth shrugged. “We’ll see how the negotiations go. I don’t think they really care about our internal politics. It’s our relations with the surface that concern them.”

-7-

But not too far away, someone was watching. Someone was listening.

The Mantis Lord sat on his coral throne and smiled smugly within his own dark helm at the image of Garth. “Oh no, you are wrong, my young prince. You will die as surely as your parents. As will all the nobles, and the surfacers as well.

He rose and stretched. “Atlantis shall fall, and be rebuilt according to my directives. The future belongs....to me.”

To Be Continued


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