Roger

Dreaming again. Always know when it's a dream. Won't remember this ten minutes after I wake up but interesting while it's going on.

Look at the clock. 0336.

Something woke me up. No sound. No shaking. What was it?

He lay still, the quilt was a little warm but not unpleasantly so.

Wait a bit.

0339. Couple of minutes and nothing. 0442. Still nothing.

Fuck it. Roger slid off the bed and onto the floor in the pushup position. He'd built the bed that way for that purpose. A hundred pushups later he was completely awake.

Need coffee.

The bedroom was practically a studio apartment, albeit a big one. Thirty by thirty with the bathroom across the hall and a single bed there was much open space even with the office in a corner and the mini-kitchen and bar in another. The Keurig tank had been filled before he went to bed and a K-cup of Folgers Black Silk was in place. He pressed the button.

It took a couple of minutes and he checked the doors. All four were air-locked and all were secure. He went back to get the coffee.

Nothing more real than black coffee. Hot and bitter, wake you up. Like the real world does.

What woke me up?

He took the cup of coffee back to the bedroom. 0552 on all three screens. He moved the mouse to wake up the main one. An ERODE message box was on top. 'Need you at Obsidian ASAP. HG.'

Just like that. Harry wakes me up and wants me somewhere ASAP. Okey-dokey.

Obsidian was the control center for sector G. And it was over a hundred miles from where Roger was. But Harry didn't know where Roger was and that was intentional on both sides.

Hundred and twenty something miles. Wait until he buzzes me again - that should give me a few minutes...

The speakers played the first few bars of the William Tell Overture.

Fuck!

In a hair over ten minutes he had brushed his teeth and shaved and showered and was dressing. Usual uniform of olive cargo pants and long-sleeved black T-shirt with a khaki shirt over it. Pair of Timberland boat shoes. No time to pack so grab the usual go-bag what would do for a couple of days.

The drive was on three segments of highway without much traffic these days and a near zero threat level. There were always a few infiltrators that hadn't been caught yet but they rarely lasted more than a few days and recently arrived ones wouldn't know who or where he was. Obsidian control they probably would know about but not his place.

Harry be gettin' antsy. Better acknowledge. But first...

He pushed the PTT button on his private radio.

"Yes, m'lord," a sleepy voice said.

"I ever tell you how sexy you sound when you just woke up?" he asked.

"Occasionally," Jessica replied. "but you don't usually wake me up to tell me."

"Nah, gotta go somewhere fast. Can you see that the place gets buttoned up?"

"Will do. Stay safe."

Jessica gonna be worrying but never shows it. Once she's up and had some coffee I'll call and fill her in. I might even know what's going on by then.

He might drive the five or six miles to Erik's place and have him fly him over but this early it would take an hour to preflight and be in the air. And Roger didn't like flying much unless he was the pilot. And he hadn't taken a long drive lately.

Not that I'm gonna like what's at the end of this one. Harry doesn't call me for good reasons and when he's frantic it's even more not good.

The car he wanted was in the garage where Miranda and her more sedate sister Minerva resided. The only vehicles outside the four-car garage were Scotty and Julie. The nearly fifty-year-old Chevy truck didn't look like it was worth stealing and while Julie, the '95 Sedan DeVille was a restored to showroom condition there wouldn't be anyone prowling around. Security would see to that.

If I have to be gone for a while I'll have Jessica put her inside but hopefully I won't be.

He clicked the third garage door open and went inside. He hadn't driven Miranda in several days but the fuel was topped off before he parked it. He popped the hood and checked the oil and windshield washer reservoir and looked over the engine before closing the hood.

He liked looking at the big Caddy mill that began it's life in an El Dorado had been rebuilt to a 512 with a new fuel injection system and mated to a five-speed auto from a much newer Caddy. Bill Baldwin's shop had spent six months modifying the '75 Trans-Am and he had dropped forty C-notes for the job while Minerva's restoration to new condition had only cost twenty but both worth it.

He got in and tossed his Commpad on the passenger seat and started the engine. Picked up the Commpad and called up the route map. Leaving his driveway he would turn left onto state highway 142 and drive twenty-two miles to the intersection with U.S. 68. The only populated place on 142 was the town of Pine Tree. U.S. 68 would run just a hair over a hundred and would pass through several towns, the largest of which was Huntington with a population of 24K or so. Apple Valley was a wide spot in the road with a sign indicating it was home to 312 souls and Walsenberg a few miles further on was just over 2K. Then came Hunington and about fifteen minutes later Cedar grove with it's 1200 or so inhabitants.

OK, Huntington the only potential trouble spot. We have agents in all of them and if there's anything up there they'll advise me. Time to go.

He keyed the exit door and drove out, closing both behind him. Circle around to the house. Go-bag on the front deck, toss it in the back seat and go. Commpad in the bracket where he could easily see and reach it while driving.

The quarter mile concrete driveway had cost almost as much as Miranda's makeover but it was worth it. At any rate money was the least of anyone's worries - he had carried loads of gold and silver worth many times that and in any case Obsidian valued him enough to contribute a good bit to some of his projects. He kicked Miranda up to about eighty before braking for the turn. Left onto 142 and set the cruise on 55.

Harry would be tracking him and he would be alerted for any trouble ahead. He set the cruise and plugged a USB stick into the Pioneer stereo. Back in the day Miranda had a Pioneer Supertuner cassette unit and Jensen Triax 6x9 in the back and the little four-inchers in front. One of the few things technology had made better. The Jensens were about the same as the ones it had then - some things technology didn't improve. The stick had the first ten Alan Parsons Project albums on it and the opening of A Dream Within A Dream filled the cabin.

Pine Tree had a speed zone and but no police. He tapped the cruise and coasted down to the 45 limit anyway. It was unlikely the local sheriff or state police would bother to run speed traps there but...

Didn't get this old being careless. At least getting this old outside of prison. Or something worse these days.

The Commpad buzzed. HQ. He tapped the answer button.

"Stop at the Shell station," said a female voice he thought he recognized.

"Kat?"

"The same. They have something for you."

The Shell station is ours. Something come up after I left? And Kat is with Harry?

He didn't waste time wondering or bantering with Kat much as he always enjoyed it.

"Ten-four," he replied. "I'm almost on top of it."

"Be safe. See you soon."

The Shell station was on the other side of town and he was almost there. He slowed and turned into the parking lot of the small convenience store. There was one other car. As he killed the engine the 'pad buzzed again.

"The other car is mine," a man said. "The centurion is in Petra."

They need some new code creators.

As he opened the door and got out the door of the building opened. A man in jeans and a plaid shirt emerged. Red baseball cap.

Jimmy Spencer. Thought that was him. What's he doing here?

Jimmy Spencer held the door for him and he entered, locking it afterwards. The place was closed, plastic bags over the nozzles on the gas pumps and the pump lanes roped off. Through the glass front it would be easy to see that the place was empty.

"What brings you out here?" Roger asked.

"Same thing as you," Jimmy replied. "Can't give you details because I don't have any, but you need to take this with you."

He handed Roger a large leather portfolio. It was heavy and had a zipper closure.

"It's a bunch of codes," Jimmy said, "no point in looking. Thoaron brought it yesterday."

"Where'd he get it?"

"Beats me," Jimmy replied. "Need to know all that."

"Thoaron lives out in the middle of Brushy Swamp. He rarely leaves."

"Yeah. I'm guessing either he's had it for a while or someone recently delivered it to him. Whatever the case Harry wants it."

"Harry called me to courier this?"

"You know it's not that simple."

"Yeah. Better get going. Anything else?"

"Good luck."

"I don't believe in luck except the kind I make."

"Yeah, get going. Whenever this is over drop by on the way back and we'll knock back a few."

"Will do. Hope it's soon."

"Me too."

Roger laid the portfolio in the floorboard of the passenger side and fired Miranda's mill. Back onto the highway the speed zone ended a couple hundred yards away. A few minutes later he arrived at the intersection with US 68. He turned right and plugged the stick back into the stereo. The tracks were in chronologican order and I Robot was playing. The track was Some Other Time and he thought about other times. Times that were and times he hoped would be.

No point in thinking about it. Or anything but the job at hand. This gonna improve matters?

Apple Valley had a speed limit sign but there was unlikely to ever be a cop there. The sheriff's department and state police had more to worry about. He had pretty much immunity with both - there was that spot in the northwest corner where several locals were known to be compromised - but slowed anyway. Three miles later he hit the resume button. Walsenberg was about twenty miles ahead.

The speed limit dropped to 35 as he traversed hit all three lights on green. The only police car he saw was parked at a convenience store. Walsenberg was the base for a couple of agents whose job was mainly to watch for infiltrators. There hadn't been one in months and as far as Roger knew he was still there and sending back bits of useless information dropped by the resident Alliance agents. There were also a couple of safe houses in the area and if one was in use they would provide surveillance for them.

Huntington had six safe houses and a dozen so agents. Roger knew several of them and had occasionally spent some time with one of them - on unofficial business. He thought of her as he drove through.

Huntington also had a dozen or so traffic lights and there was a good bit of traffic. The Commpad buzzed and he tapped the answer button.

Badger Six.

"What's up Badge?" he asked.

"All good here," Badger replied. "We've got several of the locals with eyes on you. If you see a police car on the main drag it's one of ours. There's a couple of unmarked units you won't see. I'll holler if anything doesn't look right."

Huntington would have more infiltrators, perhaps a dozen or more. Probably some sleepers as well but those should be identified by now unless they were recent arrivals and none of those would likely be interested in Roger.

Unless I'm the object of the mission.

That was a mildly unsettling thought.

He saw who police cars, the first when it merged in front of him as he approached a light. When the light changed it departed quickly - one trick bad cops had was to get in front of a car they wanted to check out and after stopping at a light depart normally when it went green and suddenly stand on the brakes to cause a collision. It would be hard to avoid unless you were always prepared for it.

The other car pulled alongside him as he approached the city limits. Two cops in it and the one in the passenger seat - closest to him - gave a little salute and an OK sign.

Cedar Grove was another twenty or so miles. The road had been resurfaced a couple of years before all the fun started and was in good shape. The significant reduction in truck traffic helped. The 'pad buzzed. Noiro-8.

Probably a Dragonfly. About time they showed up.

"Go ahead, Noiro," he said.

Noiro was the air arm of Obsidian. They had a variety of aircraft - some helicopters and small transports and a squadron of Dragonflies, technically Dragonfly IIs but everyone called them Dragonflies. Modeled after the Cessna A-37 but larger and with a 20 mm cannon and greater ordnance and fuel capacity. The Atlanteans had been building them in large numbers before the war and had provided several Alliance outfits with them. Roger knew little about the Atlantis connection of Atlantis itself but suspected they might have expected it.

Or helped get it started - when Roger was recruited two years earlier he was informed of 'outside assistance' and Obsidian seemed to be able to acquire various things - supplies and equipment and intelligence - that weren't easily explained.

"How you doin', Rog?"

Ginger? What's she doing here?"

"Wondering that the hell's going on," he replied. "And how you got here."

"I'm on loan," Ginger replied. "You'll get a briefing when you arrive. We're up here looking for any trouble on the roads."

"Seen any?"

"Not so far but we can't be too careful. Catch up with you later."

Ginger is with Mantis. Not that we don't work together but... anyway be good to see her again.

Cedar Grove had three traffic lights and he hit them all on green. Eleven miles ahead was the left turn onto County Road 568 and in another two miles he would be in the controlled area. 568 was a decent two-lane pea-gravel and tar affair little traveled as it effectively had not much use past the Obsidian gates. Obsidian occupied sixteen square miles and beyond it there wasn't much of interest to anyone.

The gate was monitored but not manned unless visitors were incoming. As he approached several men emerged from the small groups of trees on either side of the road and the gate opened. He stopped short of the open gate and lowered the window. The young man in plain BDUs leaned over and looked at the Mike Charlie shield Roger handed him, passed it through the slot in a small black box and handed it back.

"Rain is likely tonight," he said.

"The ostrich yawns," Roger replied.

The young man waved him on.

A quarter mile or so in was the headquarters. Four acres surrounded by three fences separated by a hundred yards, guard towers at the corners and halfway down the sides. At a little over four hundred feet apart anything attempting to cross was easily in range of the shooters in the towers and in any case the vehicular patrols constantly circling the area would be on any intruders before they got far. Roger passed through the two gates and proceeded to the center where the headquarters building was located.

Not an impressive structure even at three floors it was a sheet metal over trusses construction and looked more like a factory or storage facility than anything else. Roger knew that there were twice as many trusses as was usually the case and the metal sheathing was also doubled. The insulation was RFI-shielding as well as thermal. The place could take a pretty good hit and keep its occupants safe.

The large parking lot was pretty full but he had a reserved spot on the row nearest the entrance. He parked Miranda and sat for a couple of minutes. Even as he did he saw several people approaching.

Relax, ignore them. Just for a couple of minutes.

After a couple of minutes he opened his eyes. Four men were standing beside the car. Make that three men and a woman - hard to mistake that willowy auburn-haired figure even in a khaki uniform. Not that had often seen her in anything other than military garb.

Danielle. Someone wants to... what? He opened the door and got out.

"Harry wants to see you ASAP," Danielle said. "And the package."

"Good to see you too," Roger replied.

"C'mon," she said. "It's important."

The three men accompanied them to the entrance. Like most installations the HQ was a three-story metal building. It was big at a couple hundred feet in length and eighty wide. Inside he followed Danielle past the reception desk to the elevators. Danielle punched the three button and the doors opened almost immediately.

"Good to see you too," Danielle said, giving him a hug and quick kiss. "This is pretty big and it's all business - when anyone is watching."

"I figured," Roger replied. "Ginger is flying patrols - if they're borrowing people from Mantis..."

"Yeah," said Danielle.

The doors opened and they exited into the hall - Harry's office would be to the left and at the end of the long hall. Roger let Danielle take the lead.

Give me a second or two to read Harry, maybe.

Harry was leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. As always he was wearing like-new-looking sneakers. Harry Henson wasn't in the field much and liked to be comfortable in the office. At sixty-nine Roger could see it - at almost twenty years younger he found himself enjoying comfort when it was an option. Roger placed the package on the desk.

"Thanks for making it quick," Harry said. He pressed a button on the console under the row of computer monitors behind the desk.

"Curtner here," someone said.

"The package is here," Harry said. "Come and get it."

Apparently Curtner was waiting close by as he entered from the hallway a couple of minutes later, took the package and left.

Roger didn't ask about it figuring Harry would tell him when he was ready. He looked at Danielle, got tired of waiting and sat down in one of the chairs.

"Might as well sit down," he said to Danielle. "Maybe in a while Harry will remember what he wanted."

Dani looked uncomfortable and Harry took his feet off the desk and sat up straight.

"Before we get started," he said, standing up, "let's have a drink."

Roger knew where the bar was but Dani apparently didn't and followed then to the door at one end of the large room. Inside was a small kitchenette and wet bar. As Roger remembered the bar was well-stocked.

"Whiskey of the day is Knob Creek," Harry announced. "Since you don't get up this way much it's the eighteen year." He poured three glasses and they drank, Roger was unsurprised that Dani drank it the same way he and Harry did. They had been through a couple of adventures together. Finishing the drinks they returned to the office.

Breakfast had been a cup of coffee and Roger had a slight buzz from the three ounces or so of high-dollar whiskey. He sat down again and Dani did the same. Harry resumed his seat but didn't put his feet up as before. He handed a folder to each of them.

Operation Lightning Seraphim? Somebody spending too much time with old comic books.

He waited for Harry to speak. Harry lit a cigarillo. They opened the folders. There were only two pages and they read them.

"Who is Nicholas Plantagenet and where is Verunia?" Roger asked

"Atlantean liaison to the Republic," Harry replied. "He's a nephew of Sir Walter and Verunia is his domain in Atlantis."

"We're going to Verunia?"

"That's the mission."

"How long is the mission?"

"A week give or take. If you need to make any arrangements back home you have two days. You leave a 0900 Monday. You'll have company."

"Is that something we don't need to know?" asked Dani.

"Probably but pretend I didn't tell you. Chris Anthony and Erika Sommers."

"The Northern Alliance is sending two reps," Roger said. "What is this.... nevermind. Be good to see them again. Seems some big joint operation is coming up and that's likely something I want to see."

"Still haven't learned not to wish for things?" asked Harry.

---

"You need to go home for anything?" Dani asked.

"Yeah," replied Roger. "If I'm gonna be gone for a week I need to get some things set. How about you?"

"I'm all set," Dani replied. "I guess I can wait here or..."

"Jessica would be happy to see you," Roger said.

"Don't twist my arm," Dani said.

"We better get going then," said Roger. "Hour long enough."

"Plenty."

---

"Love your cars," Dani said, sliding into Miranda's passenger seat. "This is the hot one, right?"

"Yeah. I would drive us back in Minerva but don't want to leave her parked at HQ that long."

"That's cool," Dani replied. "Maybe this will be over soon and we'll have time to do things like that."

Dani used the Commpad to contact Jessica and tell her they were coming. Jessica was waiting at Roger's place when the arrived. Hug and kiss on the cheek and some small talk.

"We're gone for a week or so," Roger said when they were paying attentio to him again.

"May I ask where to?" asked Jessica.

"You may ask," Roger replied with a grin, "and I shall tell you. Since you're more qualified than about anyone to know we're off to Atlantis."

"Atlantis? That must be big."

"Yeah. Most likely a planning for an upcoming operation."

"Be safe. I know you will be but I have to say it."

"We will. You do the same.

---

The aircraft waiting for them looked to be about the size of a G700 but clearly wasn't - Roger figured it to be Atlantean. Harry came up as they watched their luggage being loaded.

"Your traveling companions will be arriving shortly," he said. "They're running late due to bad weather."

"Looks like that may be them," Roger said. An aircraft was about to set down at the far end of the runway. Shortly a Cessna Citation rolled past and taxied to the terminal. A few minutes later a golf cart arrived and dropped off Chris and Erika before continuing to deliver their luggage to the aircraft. Roger had met both of them some time back and introduced them to Dani. One of the small passenger conveyances - a six-seat open vehicle with a canopy - arrived and they boarded.

"Enjoy Atlantis," Harry said as they departed. "Don't be surprised if you want to stay."

Two uniformed personnel that Roger guessed were flight attendants greeted them at the boarding steps and they climbed aboard. The cabin had eight seats somewhat more luxurious than most first-class airlines provided and were separated by a partition from another section that contained a table Two more flight attendants were inside and invited them to sit wherever they liked - they all took aisle seats. A young man in a pilot's uniform entered from the flight deck.

"Welcome aboard. We'll be departing as soon as you're strapped in. The flight is about four and a half hours."

They buckled up and the flight attendants did the same. The engines spooled up and the aircraft began to move. At the end of the taxiway they turned onto the runway and stopped again for several minutes as before rolling again. Roger had flown on a variety of aircraft including some high-dollar corporate jets and was impressed by the acceleeration. The nose was up as they passed the control tower and after a turn west they leveled out.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" one of the attendants asked. "If you like you can sit at the table."

Roger and Chris asked for bourbon and Dani did the same while while Erika asked for brandy. One of the attendants who had been on board came back to join them.

"I'm Paul Aetheris," he said. "Officially I am a regimental commander in the service of Sir Walter Stuart. I'll be your guide for the next few days. My information is that you know very little about Atlantis?"

"Approximately where it's located," Roger replied. "That's about it."

"I'll show you around," Paul said. "The short story - if you're not familiar with it - is that Atlantis until about thirty-three years ago depending on when the process was finished it was under several thousand feet of water. To again make a long story short it was occupied quickly by some people who knew it was going to happen and had been preparing for a hundred or more years. The fact that most of the world had bigger things to worry about made it easier for us to settle and begin building. The disruption caused by the tsumanis helped and by the time the major powers had recovered enough to notice us and try to take it away it was too late.

"At any rate we had a blank slate to work with and had a plan in place. Atlantis is governed by a king that is a king only as long as the Council approves - sort of like your president. Most power is in the hands of the Council - the Lords of Atlantis. Sir Walter is one of them. The king is the first and his successor will be selected by the Council. Atlantis is divided into nine domains - what might be called provinces - each governed by a lord. Since the total land area - islands included - is about the size of Australia each domain is rather large. That's the short version. Any questions?"

"Nice aircraft," Roger said.

"It's top of the line in our small aircraft," Paul replied. "The Atlantech Falcon 750. It's a little bigger than the Gulfstream 700 and with more range. It would be faster but these kind of aircraft are already pushing up against Mach 1. Supersonic - if it ever becomes common - will be about Mach 2. We're betting we'll be there before the rest of the world."

"Why is that?" Dani asked.

"The rest of the world," Paul replied, "the most advanced and theoretically wealthy nations are burdened with debt and the governments can't make it happen. A few private ventures are working on it but don't expect to see fleets of supersonic airliners anytime soon. And almost all are not far from the edge of collapse - if we hadn't intervened the U.S.A. might by now be beyond recovery."

"Atlantis has none of those problems?" inquired Erika.

"As for stability time will tell," Paul replied, "but we're at the beginning and have centuries of the bad judgment of others to learn from. At this point we ancitipate no problems on that front for a long time - your own country didn't really start to seriously deteriorate for close to a hundred years. And as for debt Atlantis has a surplus bigger than the debt of even your own country."

"Fifty trillion dollars!" Chris said.

"If our debt was zero and little surplus," said Paul, "we would be better off than almost the entire world. As it is - I can't show you much of it - Atlantis has wealth that is to most unimaginable. So we can do pretty much anything we want and supersonic transports are a small piece of that."

"A space program?" Dani asked.

"It's not our highest priority," Paul said, "but even with all our other concerns we're working on it."

"Rumor has it," Roger said, "that Atlantis actually is an ancient populated continent buried for thousands of years."

"So does rumor have it," replied Paul with a smile.

"You somehow had nukes - at least a few small ones - pretty early." Chris said.

"That wouldn't be known," Paul said, "but the US-Euro cabal wanted to take over Atlantis as soon as the world had settled down some and they realized what was there. We couldn't have held off an invasion even in their weakened condition. So we let them know that it just might not be a good idea."

---

"Look out the port side," Paul said, "and you'll see the fleet."

The aircraft was in a descending turn. Roger and Dani moved over to the empty seats on that side. Roger guessed them to be under ten thousand feet. An enormous fleet of ships was visible - large and small. Some looked like cruise ships and others tankers or container ships. There had to be hundreds.

"Where people lived while waiting for the land to emerge," Roger said. "We heard about it but there never was much news reporting on it."

"They were mostly dimissed as crackpots," Paul said. "And when the rise began there were more important things to worry about."

"Tsunamis and earthqakes," Chris said. "All that stuff."

"The Lords expected that," said Paul. "And tried to warn the world. But when people have been predicting doom for millime new ones are rarely taken seriously. Even we couldn't know how it would happen but expected it and expended considerable resources in aid to the affected areas."

"That was anything with an Atlantic coast," Dani said.

"Quite a large area," Paul agreed, "but we did the best we could. Atlantis had considerable wealth even then. Still hundreds of thousands died, over a million perhaps. And large areas of ocean-front property were submerged. But it kept attention elsewhere for a few years. Time to put on seatbelts.

They had slowed considerably and the aircraft was slightly nose-up and in a few minutes the felt the landing bump and were rolling to a stop. They waited as a stair was brought up - the aircraft was nearly the size of a small airliner.

A limo was waiting - a late-model Cadillac. They got in and departed the ramp.

"Your luggage will be at your quarters," Paul told them. "We're going to meet your host."

"Sir Walter?" Roger guessed.

"The same," Paul replied. "Sir Walter is the primary liaison to the USA and western hemisphere generally. He's involved at a deep level with affairs in the US."

---