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Matt rode in the lead car with Thorn. Sir Walter was a passenger in the second car, with two bodyguards besides the driver. Roger was in the third with Foxtail. A fourth car carried four more security men. "You guys seem pretty relaxed," Matt said. "There's constant surveillance even out here, such as it is. And we have occasional incidents." Thorn grinned, glanced at the rearview mirror. "You seem to handle them easily enough," he said. "Of course, knowing the trap exists is the first step in avoiding it. Besides the cover your people give us we have plenty of backup." "You're a lot bigger than I ever imagined. Not that I've had a lot of time to think about it. I'm guessing this little detail isn't taxing your resources in the area." "Not at all." Thorn looked at the clock. "About another ten minutes, you may start to get an idea." The convoy had slowed as they approached a side road and turned onto it. It was a gravel road just wide enough for vehicles going in opposite directions to pass safely. Ditches on either side were populated with tall weeds, but the surface was smooth and firm as if maintained regularly. Matt knew it was. "Carver's lake?" he said. "Been up there lately?" Thorn asked. "Not in a while. A month maybe." Carver's lake was partly artificial, several hundred acres of the Brushy Lake swamp enclosed by a high levee. The levee was about ten feet high, and the interior swamp had been dredged to deepen it. The convoy left the road and proceeded along the road on top of the levee. Matt knew a boat dock was just ahead. Usually there were several boats moored there. He also knew about caches of weapons, gold and silver, and other interesting items were on the bottom of the lake. Three seaplanes were anchored a couple of hundred yards from the dock. In appearance much like flying boats of the mid-twentieth century but the design seemed much more modern. One was about the size of a small commuter aircraft with a capacity of twenty or so passengers, the other two were smaller and did not appear to be for passenger use. Two cargo vans were parked on the levee nearby, and a dozen or so uniformed personnel were moving about. Thorn and Matt exited the car and joined the others on the small platform from which the dock extended. "We'll be boarding shortly," Sir Walter told them. "Matt, you and Roger will be with me and the security team. Our escorts are preparing for takeoff now. " As he spoke they heard engines starting. Matt looked over and saw the props on both of the smaller aircraft were turning. The engines must be quiet, he hadn't heard anything. Moments later the engines on the larger aircraft came to life. One of the uniformed men approached, have Sir Walter a military salute. "Your boat is coming around now, Sir. Will you require anything more before departure?" "I believe we're ready," Sir Walter replied. "Once we're an hour out proceed with your own departure." "Yes sir," the man replied, saluted and turned smartly on one heel and walked away." "Nice looking bunch," Matt commented. "Old school U.S. military," Sir Walter replied. "The majority of the original settlers had military experience. Sadly the American military was in decline long before Atlantis rose, even in my time." "It's generally believed you were in the armed forces at one time." Matt said. "May I ask which branch?" "You certainly may ask," Sir Walter replied with a smile. "It seems our transport is here." A large pontoon boat was being tied up at the end or the pier, which extended fifty feet or so from the dock. "If you gentlemen are ready," Sir Walter said, "after you." The two bodyguards from Sir Walter's car led the way, followed by Matt and Roger. Thorn and Foxtail followed, and Sir Walter came behind, the remaining four security men behind him. A gangplank was deployed and they boarded. The boat was large, and familiar to Matt. It had belonged to Russ, and probably one or another of his sons owned it. It was thirty-six feet long with a sixteen foot beam, and had a large cabin in the center, with a rail along the sides of the flat roof. Matt had occasionally fished from the boat, with Russ, before the war. "Are any of Russ' boys around now?" Matt asked. "Just Ty. The others are here and there. Ty came back for this mission. Unfortunately he was called away on some urgent business or he would be here. I know you haven't seen him in some time." Matt hadn't seen him in several months in fact. When his father died. "No. That's the biz, as they say." "Indeed." They sat in the deck seats along the sides, the security men on one side and they on the other. Matt was sitting between Sir Walter and Foxtail. The gangplank up, the crew cast off and the pilot applied throttle to the big Mercury engines, and they moved away. Sir Walter tunrned to Matt. "Air Force, by the way." he said. "As I suspected." Matt replied. The passenger cabin of the aircraft was mostly occupied by a conference table with six seats. Two rows of two seats each were further forward. The cockpit door was open, but the pilots were not visible from where Matt was sitting, at one side of the table. Roger was across from him, and Sir Walter was at one end. Foxtail sat beside Matt with Thorn across from him. One of the pilots appeared in the cockpit doorway. "Ready when you are, Sir Walter." "Everyone belted in?" Sir Walter asked. "Let'er go Charles." The pilot returned to his seat and a few seconds they heard the sound of the two big turboprops increasing. Matt had never flown in a seaplane. He looked out at the water of the lake rushing by and then falling away as the aircraft lifted off. The escorts had still been idling as they departed - he supposed they would catch them soon enough. As if reading his thoughts Sir Walter spoke. "The Petrels will be with us shortly," he said. "They're considerably faster. The C-110 maximum speed is a little over three hundred knots with an average load, and the Petrels top out over four hundred." "We're riding a C-110?" "Right. It's the smallest transport in the inventory. It's used mostly for passengers." "Does it have a name?" Sir Walter smiled. "No, few of our aircraft have names. The ones that do, like the Petrel, are unofficial. Officially it's the MUF-14. Marine Utility. Fixed-wing." "They look like single or two-seat fighters" Matt said. "They're primarily a combat aircraft," Sir Walter replied. "Combat includes reconnaisance and surveillance." "Makes sense. How are they armed, or is that information available to outsiders?" "Normally not. Of course you're hardly an outsider. Whatever your decision on becoming an Atlantean." "I'm being offered Atlantean citizenship?" "If you want it. Or you can be a resident, if you like. Or a guest, with varying levels of privileges and rights. Our system may seem a bit complex, but it's actually simple. We can get into that later." "Obviously you've vetted me thouroughly," Alex said, "so you don't have any reservations. But are you so open with other outsiders?" "Very few. Even if at some point you turned out to be a bad bet, we'd merely keep you in Atlantis permanently, so you could do no harm." "No termination, with or without some degree of prejucdice?" "Hardly. We abhor violence in any form. It's rare in Atlantis, but if a person cannot be allowed to be loose in society, incarceration is simple and inexpensive. The few prisoners we have - and most are foreigners - live rather like... monks I suppose. Simple accommodations and provisions, free to do as they wish within their confinement." "Why so many foreigners?" Matt asked. "Atlantis has little crime, and even less that requires more than a financial penalty, loss of some rights and privileges for a while, and of course the stigma attached to having betrayed the trust of one's fellow citizens." "I suppose the civics can wait," Matt said. "Presumably there are more urgent matters. By the way, I've never seen a seaplane with retractable wing floats." "I don't imagine there are many." replied Sir Walter. "It's really a matter of aesthetics than anything else. Our aviation industry is presided over by a rather, some would say, fussy type." "I see." "I don't mind being called fussy," Sir Walter said. "I admit it." "You?" Sir Walter grinned and reached for his cigar case and offered it to Matt. "Smoke?" Matt took a cigar and handed the case to Roger. 'Let Rog decide whether to give it back to Sir Walter or one of his aides.' he thought. Roger offered it to Thorn, who declined. He handed it back to Sir Walter. If Thorn or Foxtail smoked they might not do so with their boss. They seemed quite the pros. There was an ashtray on the table, something that Matt had not seen until the war began and the laws and social mores against smoking disappeared. Sir Walter put the case away and they lit their cigars. "Smoking on aircraft hasn't been done in a long time," Matt said, "anywhere that I know of." Sir Walter smiled. "Atlanteans are different in many ways," he said, "most of which I expect you will find pleasing. How much do you know about the Lords?" "Very little," Matt replied. "Beyond the fact - I suppose you're confirming as a fact - that they exist, and are the rulers of Atlantis, reportedly as some sort of junta. Apparently there are nine of them, or at least they are referred to as the 'Council of the Nine', or just 'The Nine'. That's about it. "There's no need to go into detail now," Sir Walter said, "but that's pretty much it. I'm one of the Founders, another name used mostly only among Atlanteans. In the late twentieth century we were recruited by a man very few outiders have ever even heard of. He was old when I met him, and died before the project was near the launch. That was in 1988. I was forty-two and he was in his late seventies. Probably only the fact that he was quite wealthy and was able to leverage that wealth in certain ways allowed him to realize his dream." "Atlantis?" "Correct. I met him in 1988, after I left the Air Force. He already knew who I was and quite a lot about me. As I would learn, he had considerable connections in various places. Including government, which included the armed forces. I had taken a lengthy vacation and was deciding what to do with the rest of my life. "I was in the bar in the hotel I was staying at when Ishmael sent a note to the bar inviting me to join him. My vacation ended then, but it would be a couple of years before I knew what he was up to." "Ishmael?" "Ishmael Webster. I never knew if it was his original name, and didn't ask. When we met he said 'call me Ishmael' with a smile, so I guessed that his humourous to 'Moby Dick' either indicated it was an assumed name or he was making a joke about his name being Ishmael. He had quite the sense of humor, even as he went about a very serious work." "We're on a north north-west," Matt said. "Another ten minutes, judging by our speed, we'll be over Kansas." "Indeed we will," Sir Walter replied. "Our escort is about ten minutes ahead of us by now and in the unlikely event there's any problem we'll have plenty of time to change course." But after Operation Medusa made Kansas useless to the regime, they're not wasting their already-scarce resources on it." Matt had been in on Medusa, and the disruption of transportation routes had been thorough. He had organized and trained some of the teams that cut railroads and highways in so many places that repairing them would have taken months under optimal condidions, which were long gone. The enemy no longer had a land route between its two parts. "It was definitely a success," he said. "We're going into Alliance territory then?" "We are. We'll be collecting one of my colleagues. Gordon is in South Dakota. Actually we'll be joining him on his aircraft for the return trip." "He has a bigger one?" "Yes. And with the range to fly nonstop." "Is that Sir Gordon?" "Pardon me, yes it is. We're friends from way back." "So far I know who two of you are," Matt said. "Do you travel much outside Atlantis?" "Quite a bit. In places we have secure base." "You were telling me about Ishmael." "Yes, I was. We have a good hour, so I'll continue. "The short version is, Ishmael was the heir to an ancient knowledge. Said to have come from the Knights Templar who fled Europe when the order was destroyed, but numerous legends are so attributed and there's no solid proof. He could only tell me the chain of custody back to the late 1700s, when the first reliable information was acauired. "From there it passed through the centuries to me. My father and his father before him passed it to me, along with the money to continue the work. My father had, before he died, found what would prove to be the key to finding the location of Atlantis, and the means of calculationg its rise. "And he was right, to within a decade or so. He had already built the organization and begun building the fleet of ships that would make the rapid colonization possible. And recruited the foundation of the force." "All those strange cults," Matt said. "They popped up like dandelions from the 90s onward. Most thought they were just the usual religious or political, or both, groups wanting to get out of wherever they lived and chose the ocean." "Most of them were us," replied Sir Walter. "There were some that weren't, so we went unnoticed. However, most of the work involved building groups that remained where they were, on land, living their lives as usual. Ships were acquired and prepared, docked here and there around the world, and quite a few aircraft as well. When the rise began those people assembled and boarded their transportation and joined the fleet that assembled around the rising continent." "And the rest of the world," Alex said, "was distracted." "Quite. We expected the coastal destruction and its results. Not that there was anything we could do about it. We did try to get the word out so that coastal areas could be evacuated, and in places were successful. But it did serve to put what would have normally received more attention in the background for a while. And by that time we were in control. "As more land was exposed we landed more people and supplies. It was almost a year before the first contact from another nation occurred, formal contact anyway - there were spies there early on. And they were greeted by a government that claimed the territory and offered to engage in the usual diplomatic relations. "That kept things calm for quite a while, until the other major powere, back on their feet, began to explore the possibilities of taking over. That eventually had to be dealt with, but by then it was too late for any realistic attempt." "You demonstrated that you were nuclear armed," Matt said "right out of the box. Neat trick." "It was something we planned from the beginning. We expected interference, and wanted to show that the price would be high." "It certainly did that. I remember watching that on television. A ship anchored in the South Atlantic hit by a missile fired from over two thousand miles away. What was the yield, something like five kilotons?" "About. Just big enough to show that we could deliver nukes accurately over a long distance. That kept things calm for quite a while." "It seems that it did. You were well prepared." "We try," Sir Walter replied. "What's your assessment of our situation?" "In probably six months, a year at most, is's over. The old regime is finished. The Alliance and the Republic, essentially one entity at this point - it just isn't formalized - become the new Republic."
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