The First City Falls - A Sci-Fi Short Story

5 The Garden (2)

A few moments passed as the elevator came, and when the large platform arrived on the surface, used to transport ammunition from below, it was empty, and weirdly, in the cleanest condition it could be. As if it had been waiting for them.

"I don't feel right about this." Gaius Terrentius said.

"Nobody does." Diocletian said, lowering his rifle.

Only then did Thrax went into his armor, his helmet hanging on the latches over his armored chest. He was calm, even though the rest of his guards were weary.

He did not bring his personal guard, and so there were only six of them: Thrax, Thaspus, Diocletian, and his squad. The mason reassured the integrity of the elevator, and stated that it was the best elevator he had ever seen, despite its age. "The First City is old, but I've never studied this particular design."

Thrax did not mind the mason's comments. The six of them entered the elevator and pressed the dials. The doors shut and they went down. Two minutes of abject silence passed... then the absolute worst thing happened.

The internal displays on their helmets went out of control and the navigation systems were scrambling. They all opted to switch to manual controls for their navigation, clearing up all user interface except vitals and ammunition.

Gaius, holding his flamer, looked at Diocletian worriedly. Even though his face was encased with the steel mask of his helmet, he could feel the terror. Diocletian went to his fellow legionary, touched his shoulder, and asked him. "What's the matter, Gaius? I've never seen you like this."

"The energy of this place, sergeant. Something's off. As if we're..." He paused. "Somewhere else." He said.

Just as he said it, the most rudimentary of surface navigation tools, the analog compass, suddenly went nuts. The needle that pointed 'North' spun as if losing direction. There was a strong magnetic source; perhaps a very strong power generator or... Something else. Something else they did not know. Radio contact to the surface was also, lost, and only local communications were available.

The elevator stopped as they reached their destination. Everyone took combat stances, except for Thrax, who stood calm.

Rifles were raised. Swords were readied.

Then, out of the elevator doors, came a very familiar scent.

The calm smell of a river bed. Of plentiful grass. Of ripe fruit on trees.

The elevator opened slowly and with its slow pace it revealed bit by bit a sight so out of place. It was a garden, lush, green, lively. Sunshine was above; this was nothing alien. Many colonies aboard asteroids and rotating habitats had this feature. There was nothing secret, disorienting, or inhumane about it.

One thing however, stood out. One man. He wore priestly garbs, white and richly embroidered, and atop his head a square white hat. He was cleanly shaven, and had a long, learned face about him. In fact, his face was so welcoming that Diocletian felt like lowering his guard a little.

The soldiers went out the elevator and did their usual drill: quick steps, scanning the surroundings, weapons raised, ready to engage. Then, having declared the area around them clear, they shifted their weapons to the lone white priest.

General Thrax and Centurion Thaspus walked out of the elevator. Thaspus had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The priest smiled and spoke. "Andromedus Thrax, Dux of the Jovian Army, Envoy of the Prince of Jove. The Mother welcomes you." He said.

"Who are you?" Asked Thrax.

"I am the one that will bring you to her."

"To whom? Your leader, that hides in this subterranean rathole, who refuses to fight us?"