The Nereid Thetis was again anchored off shore off the port at Gialos, just below Fira. It was now ten in the morning and Illya had not heard another word from his partner since the night before and as usual that was beginning to worry him.
The winds were blowing steadily, stirring up the still turquoise waters, but now there were small white caps dotting the bay as the yacht rocked to and fro more vigorously. They were achored to a bouy father out as the bottom was too deep to drop anchor; the clang of its bell ringing out steadily as it too rocked from the waves.
It was unlike Napoleon not to check in but Illya knew that he dare not try to contact him; given that he was now masquerading as a member of Thrush. An U.N.C.L.E. communicator sounding off at an inopportune moment would undoubtedly blow his cover. And so Kuryakin waited uncomfortably, his vexation growing exponentially the longer he was out of touch with his partner.
He went down below deck, having taken his ginger pills and continued drinking warm cola like it was water. That helped his stomach, but the slight vertigo he was experiencing was most annoying.
Illya knew that it really was better for him to stay above deck but his curiosity overcame his discomfort. He wanted very badly to examine the Antikythera as he had a feeling it was important for him to learn as much about it as he could.
Things always had a habit of turning on them with these unusual assignments, and who knew what trouble the possession of the device could bring them; Illya had a sense about these sort of things. Napoleon would just put it off to his partner fatalistic tendencies, but Illya's feelings proved right more often than not.
He placed the Antikythera cautiously on the table as Hektor sat beside him, cringing that the Russian was going to remove it from its wooden casing.
"Parakaloú me na eíste prosktitkoí Nickó, den midén. Ta Antikythira eínai anektímiti_please be careful Nickó, do not scratch it. The Antikythera is priceless. It will be one of Greece's greatest National treasures."
"Xéro Hektor, allá eínai pithanó sydéetai me óna apó ta pio epikíndyna ópla pou efevéthike poté_I know Hektor, but it is possibly tied to one of the most dangerous weapons ever invented. I must understand how it works."
"How is that possible, it is a device to calculate astronomical movement, is it not?" Hektor asked, looking a bit confused. "Is there something that you are not telling me my friend?"
Illya hesitated to reveal he truth, but decided the Greek had a right to know. "Dr. Stonghilos has come into the possession of a weapon that might have had it's origins in the mythical city of Atlantis. It is a large crystalline device made in the form of a ten-sided decahedron and is powered by the sun. It is called a solar cannon. The Antikythera is apparently the control mechanism for this laser."
"How can that be? Even I know the existence of Atlantis is just a legend...a laser? What is that?"
"It is a device that generates an intense beam of coherent monochromatic light, or possibly electromatic radiation by the stimulated emission of protons from excited atoms or molecules."
Hektor looked totally lost by that wordy explanation.
"I will simplify," Illya said. "It ampifies light by stimulating emissions of radation."
Again, Hektor looked confused.
Illya's mind began racing through his theories in quantum mechanics and to Heisenberg's uncertainty principle for a more practical answer but none of it would do, he searched his memory further for one that he could give to Hektor more in layman's terms.
"Sorry, I still do not understand. You say radiation? It is like the atom bomb, then?"Hektor asked.
Illya scratched his head, arriving at last to a less complicated reply.
"It is a death ray," he offered a term popularized by the science fiction genre.
"Oh as in the space movies. I saw a film once called 'Forbidden Planet'* they had great machines called battries that fired lights?"
"Sorry I am not familiar with that one." Illya said," but an apt description of the function. Have you ever seen the movie called Atlantis the Lost Continent?** " Terrible film," Illya smiled, " but the crystal ray powered by the sun is quite illustrative of what I think we could be up against here."
"Oh, yes I remember that! It was how you say, a corny depiction of the legend of Atlantis and of the ancient Greeks." Hektor now looked frightened, "Such a thing truly exists?"
"Apparently so."
Kuryakin set a silver briefcase on the table beside the mechanism. He unlocked it, and removed a black cloth roll, unravelling it beside him. It contained a number of tools, long tweezers, bent-nose pliers, needle-nose pliers, small jewelers screwdrivers, a dental mirror, probes and a 20X jewelers loupe.
He took out a small pocket knife that he used to explore the edges of box as he placed the loupe to his eye. He moved carefully, precisely until he located a locking mechanism; he used one of the screwdrivers to release it. The front of the box opened easily, allowing him to reach in, detach the handle where it connected inside, and slide the inner workings gently forward and out of it's protective container. What he was doing was not unlike the work of a clockmaker.
Hektor moved the box out of the way, placing it carefully on the mattress of one of the bunks, returning to the Russian's side to observe the work.
Illya looked up and down, examined it carefully, and finally removed a small hand mirror as well as one of the fine probes from his kit.
"Moiá san eínai énas giatros etoimá zetai na ketelé si mia cheirourgikí epémvasi_you look like a physician getting ready to perform surgery."
That made Illya smile. " I am, but of the exploratory kind."
The precision bronze gears were set together, interacting with a series of wheels, including a differential gear that would set the other gears in a rotating motion of two speeds at different rates. There were thirty-seven gear wheels that he could see, and the inner workings were fitted with over thirty bronze parts.
As to the purpose of wheels; they served as dials to track the four-year cycles of the Greek calendar, it set dated on the calendar, predicted the movement of the sun and the moon, followed some of the planets and stars, calculated and tracked a number of the heavens and all planetary motion. It could multitask all these things, doing it at the the same time.
Kuryakin found the functionality and technology of this piece of history completely astounding.
"How could he risk such a marvel being destroyed?" He asked himself. If they destroyed the laser then that too was another ethical question, but that was out of the question as its potential for destruction in the hands of Thrush was too great, if it were eliminated then perhaps at least the Antihythera could be saved?
"One out of two was not a bad compromise," he concluded. Illya continued to examine the priceless object, yet in all this analysis he could still not fathom how this amazing device could control a laser?
Illya was not one to conjecture without definitive data, but he surmised that since the laser was purported to be powered by the sun; then there must be some adjustment on the Antikythera that could be set directly related to the energy source for the weapon.
He looked again at the dials, and found one of them that was engraved in ancient Greek letters, though different in many aspects from it's modern linguistic descendent, he could still decipher the words. It showed a stylized etching of the sun and inscribed with one word, excusia_power. That dial he deemed was of importance in the scheme of things and it was the one that seemed unrelated to the function of the others...
While deconstructing the device he laid the pieces out in a specific order, though his memory served him well in the reconstruction process as he slowly and methodically pieced the mechanism back together, much to Hector's relief.
Illya looked at his watch and it was now two in the afternoon yet still no word from Napoleon. At least his working on the Antikythera served as a brief distraction from his concerns over his partners well-being.
"Hektor I am worried about Napoleon; he should have contacted me by now. Since you and Spyros were privy to Stronghilos' invitation to Napoleon, perhaps I could impose upon one of you to pay the doctor a visit. Tell him that you wish to speak to Mr. Vaughn regarding the funding of your project and you have not been able to find him today."
Spyros gladly accepted Illyas request, though the Russian did not relish the direct involvement of an innocent with a member of T.H.R.U.S.H. but going to the doctor's residence himself would have been too much of a risk, as his appearance... fair-skin and blond hair made his presence too obvious, even with tourists around; it would be difficult for him to blend in.
He warned the man to exercise prudence, asking only if Mr. Vaughn was still at the doctor's house and nothing more, then to return immediately to the Thetis.
"It is possible that if you see Napoleon and he is in trouble, then he may try to give you some sort of message. So be very careful and accurate about what, if anything he says to you, especially if it is in the presence of Stronghilos."
Spyros decided to use one of the many donkeys waiting along the cobblestoned path at the base of Fira, deeming it important to get up and down the cliffs quickly with the information.
He navigated the donkey around the crowds of people that seemed to fill the village today; surprised at so many choosing to be outside during the gusting, dust laden heat of the day. He arrived at the doctors villa, thought the trip seemed as though it had taken much longer that it should have. Spyros was nervous, he was accustomed to dealing withsilent ruins and not engaging people in clever conversation, especially when it meant lying. He had visited the doctors villa once before and found it rich and opulent; something he was not used to either, and it made him uncomfortable. He was a digger and his kind cared not for such things. He tried to calm himself as he knocked on the door; as it opened, he was met by Astarte Lovely.
"What is it you want Spyros?" She asked coldly. The woman did not appear to be in the most congenial moods at the moment. She wore a pair of dark glasses and her head was covered with a scarf, similar to that of a hijab he had seen worn by Muslim women. She wore a light bathrobe, shielding that she was either wearing a bathing suit, or pehaps nothing at all? Spyros tried to banish that thought from his head.
He had seen the woman before in the company of the doctor but always felt anxious in her presence. He clasped the blue glass mati pendant that hung around his neck, it was his apotriopaic, used to ward off matiasma_the evil eye. Spyros hope it would prevent her from jinxing him.
"Lympámi poly' gla na enouchloún esás Kyría Astarte_I am so sorry to disturb you Madame Astarte," his voice cracked, "but I am looking for Mr. Vaughn and am unable to find him. He had dinner here with Stavros last night, did he not?"
Astarte flashed him a disgusted glare filled with annoyance. "Mr. Vaughn is gone, he ugh, had to return to New York unexpectedly and left early this morning." She promptly slammed the heavy door in his face.
Spyros was taken aback by her rude and abrupt behavior. Even he knew that she was lying, Napoleon would never leave and not tell his friend the Russian. He quickly climbed atop the donkey for the trip back down the cliff from the rim. The Greek hurried the poor creature along, yelling epithets at it.
"Kínisi! Sas ilíthio aidiastiko_move! you stupid disgusting thing!"
Pedestrians in front of them who blocked the way, stood shaking their fists as the animal plowed past them, braying its displeasure at being prompted so vigorously by Spyros' heels.
The creature made its final protest, coming to a complete stop just where the village of Fira ended, forcing Spyros to abandon the animal and walk the 600 steps down to the base.
He arrived at last to where Aeneas waited patiently for him; the young man sitting on the pier itself playing his tsambouna bagpipes, made from the skin of a small kid goat; its mournful droning sounding like cats in heat that eventually grated upon the listener when not played well. Aeneas, however, had mastered a difficult instrument, making it sound musically interesting and had now attracted a small crowd of American tourists who were throwing coins on a blanket that he spread beside him on the dock.
"Come on folks," called out the tour guide, "we have a schedule to keep if you want to be at the right place at the right time tonight for the sunset?"
"AENEAS!" Spyros yelled at the young man as he gasped for breath.
"Stamatiste na paízete to katara méno tsamboura! Kai na párei to ploío étoimo! Prépei na pároume piso tóra! Ky'rios Solo eínai prólima_stop playing that damn ysamboura and get the boat ready! We need to get back now! Mister Solo is in trouble!"
Aeneas grabbed the blanket, gathering up his coins inside it as he hopped down from the pier. He laid his instrument down, then quickly tied the blanket ends together, so as to not lose any of his earnings.
He let go the line tying the boat to the pier as Spyros climbed down into the dingy, then Aeneas started the small motor; quickly turning it about heading back at full speed to where the Nereid Thetis was anchored.