THE END OF BEGINNINGS

TWENTY-EIGHT

    Is it possible to exist as two opposing states at once? Is the paradox of a functional dichotomy a tangible and inherent part of the universe? Geras Aurallio wondered this as he walked along a crowded, curving corridor. He smiled and nodded his head politely at the passersby who made eye contact with him. Most returned the gesture. Others were still too taken aback by having to step out of the way of the thick-muscled Ulref to really notice the subtle salutation.
    Ulref Kem Toleg was the cousin of Geras' wife, Sidonia. He was barely a year older than Geras but at least five times as strong. They had first met in far younger years of their lives. They had been members of the Lantean Fleet. When Geras was given command of his own unit, Ulref was one of the first individuals he enlisted. Ulref had been with Geras during the turbulent years of his friendship with Aronos Tal Do. That was certainly one of the main reasons Sidonia had requested Ulref travel from Camrial to Atlantis. Another was there were very few others whose loyalty and trustworthiness were virtually without question. If he thought about it, Geras wouldn't doubt that the five members of the Camrialian entourage were the only people Sidonia truly trusted outside of their immediate family.
    While Ulref parted the sea of chatting and bustling bodies in front of them, another member of the Camrial group walked a pace behind their mini procession. Geras glanced back at the young man named Denarus Adratus Toleg. Despite being his adopted son, the tall, twenty-three-year-old young man looked remarkably like Ulref. Orphaned on a planet that became embroiled by civil war, Denarus had taken a strong liking to the stoic soldier who had rescued him from malicious hands. The young man didn't speak much. But what he lacked in oratory he made up for in action. Geras was glad to have both Ulref and Denarus with him in the city, as humbled and bashful as their guarding of him made Geras feel.
    He turned his head to look forward again. His previous musings returned as they made their way into a sunlit foyer at the intersection of the four, wide corridors on that building's level. Geras was a man of many strengths. Yet, the protection his wife had appointed him reminded Geras he wasn't without his vulnerabilities. He probably would have argued that the presence of Ulref and the others was unnecessary, that he was quite capable of handling himself in the city of his birth. It would have been an argument, however, he also would have lost.
    Nestled amongst the sweetly scented vines and flowering shrubs decorating the foyer was another one of the transport chambers common throughout all of Atlantis. Its thin doors of polished alloy slid open as Geras and the others approached. He was pulled from his thoughts once more as he followed Ulref over the threshold of the metal box. He suddenly realized that the younger man beside him, Torren Silanus was speaking to him. He'd asked a question, a question Geras hadn't heard in the slightest.
    "Hmm," Geras hummed inquisitively as the doors of the transport chamber closed behind them.
    "The newly expanded sections of the city," Torren said, glancing side-long at his former teacher. He smiled, recognizing Geras' expression. The older man was trying to feign his attentiveness. It rarely fooled Torren when he was younger. It definitely wasn't fooling him now. "I was asking what you thought about them as you flew past during your descent over the mainland."
    "Oh," Geras said, maybe too loudly. In front of them, a second set of doors slid apart. Beyond them was another corridor, this one in the central tower of the city. "Unfortunately, I was mostly only able to glimpse the city sections on the mainland. Moros was doing the piloting for our arrival."
    "You let the boy fly that beautiful ship," Ulref asked with a disturbed growl.
    Geras laughed. "Yes, of course. It was hardly the first time. Moros is quite the talented and instinctive pilot."
    "He crashed a portal ship into a star!"
    "Just once."
    "It was traveling at near-hyper velocity!"
    "True."
    "It's funny that you should mention the portal ships," said Torren as they left the transport chamber behind them. "We've been making a major upgrade to their security and control protocols. Actually, we've begun making it to nearly all of our hardware and systems."
    "What kind of upgrades," asked Geras.
    "A gene-sensitive activation feature," Torren replied, "similar to the technology already in place in the control chairs of each city-ship. It's based on some designs and systems that were experimented with right after the Void War. This new system has been designed by my team and I and is far more advanced than that earlier one. Unfortunately, it's coming in response to what happened late last year on the planet Notara."
    "More civil war," Ulref said over his shoulder before stopping at the top of a brightly lit staircase. The corridor around them had opened up, giving way to the meeting chamber of the United Lantean Council.
    "Yes," Toren confirmed. "Or, at least a situation that is escalating to that point. A faction of natives on that world were able to acquire a portal ship in an attempt to engage their declared enemies in a province near their own."
    "What happened," Geras asked, his full attention exclusively on Torren.
    "The team on Notara tried to talk the natives down from their plan and have them return the portal ship. However, they were too close to their target to be able to intercept them. And, the natives refused the team's plea to fall back and negotiate. They flew the ship into a crowded forum."
    "How many deaths?"
    "Ninety-four deaths. Three hundred and seven injuries. Five of the ninety-four fatalities were the natives on board the portal ship."
    "Ridiculous," said Ulref. "And the new expansions of Atlantis on the mainland...would they be new refugee sectors?"
    Torren nodded his head. "Yes. Atlantis has been taking on the bulk of the refugees from the embroiled worlds. It has become a point of contention amongst the district representatives around the mainland. That tension has been bubbling up to this tower more and more over the last year. Especially since the United Council has been in session so much that the City Council has hardly had a quorum called at all."
    "How often is the council meeting now," Geras asked. "The charter states that outside of declared emergencies, they are only to meet for a few weeks out of each standard year."
    "The supply shortages from the newly infected systems has led to much of the upheaval and divisions around the colonies. That has been emergency enough to keep the Council in regular session for the last six months."
    Geras shook his head.
    "Don't let the lad mislead you," Ulref said, turning his head slightly to look down into the chamber. "Word is the Council broke for a month to allow each city high councilor a chance to go home for a while. They apparently only just returned."
    "A single month break after six months of extended session that has become...regular," Geras said without hiding his worry. "Technology being locked down for Lantean use only. War breaking out on colonized and seeded planets. New systems infected by a plague that was supposed to have been completely isolated and contained. And now, this matter of a High Councilor shooting down a Lantean Fleet ship..."
    "Ahh, Geras! There you are, at last," exclaimed the High Councilor from Camrial. He was walking from the grand table at the center of the room toward the base of the sun-washed stairs.
    Ulref and Denarus stood up straighter. "Too late to turn back now," Ulref quipped at a mumble.
    "Is it," Geras asked softly, waving to the man standing expectantly below them.
    "This used to be your crowd," said Ulref.
    "It still kind of is," whispered Torren.
    "I'm glad you all are here with me," Geras said. He smiled at the leader of Camrial and another councilor walking toward him.
    "Ohh, this is our stop," Ulref said quietly, leaning close to Geras' ear. "You have to go on from here without us."
    Geras sighed. "I know." He glanced at Ulref. "Stay close."
    Ulref nodded.
    "Good luck," Torren said before he turned and followed Ulref and his son back into the corridor.
    Geras took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger he felt rising within himself. Then, after a moment, confident in his composure, he started down the steps to join the gathered members of the United Lantean Council.
    The expression on Toro Ras' round face was one of tremendous relief. "Geras, my friend, I am so very glad you were able to receive the message and get here in time."
    Geras nodded politely as the leader of Camrial embraced Geras' right hand with both of his own. "I must be honest," Geras said, "I would have rather not received the message at all."
    "Something more important to attend to, Geras," asked Caron Vellos, High Councilor of the Lantean city-state Donus.
    Geras turned his head to look at the shorter man. "Many things, yes. I stepped away from the life of councils and administrations for a reason."
    "And, in the time of your sabbatical much turmoil has begun to unfold across the galaxy," said Caron Vellos.
    "So I've recently been informed," Geras replied. "Has the charter for this body been changed in the time of my absence?"
    "No,"said Toro. "Not officially."
    Geras looked around the chamber at the others gathered in the grand and spacious place. Thousands of years before that sunny afternoon, the sparsely decorated room, near the top of the Atlantis central spire, was once its command and control center. Geras thought of the images he'd seen in his youth. If he'd been alive at that more ancient time, directly across from the place he was standing he would have been looking right at the city's astral portal-their gateway to the stars. Now, it was a dozen miles away on the planet's mainland, leaving the history of that room to be trampled on and forgotten by a body on the verge of losing its way.
    "Then this is a sad time," said Geras, moving his gaze from councilor to councilor as they stood idly around the vast table in the center of the chamber. "This governing body has declared itself eternal and, yet, turmoil and strife run rampant and unchecked? Surely all should be blissful and wonderful if the guardians of the watchtower have deemed themselves to always be on duty. Am I mistaken?"
    Caron Vellos furrowed his brow. "Such a tone, Geras," he said with disappointment. "Your time on that little planet, away from your city and your fellow Lanteans, has sharpened your tongue while narrowing your vision."
    "Or perhaps I've been gifted with an outsider's perspective. If one spends too much time lost in a fog, how long until going around in circles seems like a perfectly acceptable way of life?"
    "To say nothing of standing still," Toro added.
    Caron Vellos shook his head. "I must say, Geras, I had expected a stronger sense of duty from you, especially at this time."
    "My duty is to my family first. Everything else is secondary."
    "Then let us hope this body and these times in which it is convened do not pose too great an imposition to you or them," said a stern voice from the top of the stairs. The echoing words brought the dull chatter around the room to a stop. Every eye was suddenly drawn upward to Iohannus Lal, High Councilor of Atlantis. His own gaze was fixed squarely on Geras.
    The two men stared intently at each other for a long moment. The silence in the chamber had begun to grow heavy and noticeable. Geras only looked away when a familiar form appeared slowly from behind the city's leader. It was Aronos Tal Do, the man that had the uncanny ability to drag Geras into places he didn't want to go. The man Geras had once called a brother but now could only look upon with disdain.