Well, here it is: The Prologue. If one counts the incessent plot changes, redos, and the slothlike pace at which I work, it's been a full half-year in the making (If the impossible happens and anyone actually reads this - or God willing, reviews - I apoligize ahead of time for the time it will take to post the next chapter). Atlantis, and several other things that I'll give credit for at the end, is not my property. If it was, I would have cast whoever came up with the idea of turning three episodes of a cancelled scooby-doo-esque TV series into an official sequel into the fiery pit of Hell a long, long time ago (Which reminds me - while you're waiting for the next chapter, read "Atlantis Summons the Keeper" by Aquarian Wolf. Once you've exhausted that and every other entertainment option, you can start shoving dried-out grass reeds into a volleyball and having conversations with it. By that point, I might have Chapter One halfway finished!). Oh, and one other thing: As part of my Inner Procrastinator's plot to sieze control over my writing, I spent the last week or so compiling songs from Treasure Planet, Lord of the Rings, O Brother Where Art Thou, and most importantly, Steamboy (an Anime film set in an AU Victorian England - the movie was fun, but the soundtrack is one of the best I've ever heard). Anyway, I've gone through my various CDs and compiled a soundtrack for RSAM - the song for this chapter being "Two Delusions" off of (and you'll be hearing this a lot) the Steamboy soundtrack. Anyway, if you have it, go listen, if you don't, oh well it isn't that important anyway. So, without further ado:
Atlantis: Red Sky at Morning
Prologue: Anomalies and Complications
Like everyone else around him, Keshtem Ulutek was worried. Unlike everyone else, the fact that his city was sinking to the bottom of a volcano wasn't what worried him.
"…By all the gods," he thought to himself. "Surely it couldn't have taken him this long…"
The man he was referring to went by the name of Neyek'ul Maltak, who, until about twenty-five minutes ago, had held the lofty position of Grand Engineer of Atlantis, and who, about twenty-five hundred years later, would hold the loftier position of God. Of course, the deification was posthumous, state-mandated, and not exactly one hundred percent flattering: thanks to his perceived role in the destruction of Atlantis, Maltak became Maltar, god of destruction, corruption, sin, and general mayhem, a constant warning of what would happen if the current Atlanteans allowed history to repeat itself - in other words, a deterrent to anyone unfortunate enough to be or become a technophile during the age of institutionalized primitivism. In one world, the world that we know and love today, scholars studying this ages-old Atlantean propaganda would comment on the unfairness of the representation; how King Nedakh pinned the demise of his entire civilization on a single, innocent scapegoat, all to promote his own misguided paranoia. And in this world, there would've been no evidence to the contrary.
Our story, however, does not take place in this world…
"There was a sound of thunder."
-Quote from the short story of the same name
"You fool! You've destroyed us all!"
These, aside from a few disconcerted, horrified screams, were the last words of Admiral Chulek, leader of the First Aeronaval Division. They were directed at the Kahmaan responsible for this whole mess; Grand Engineer Maltak, who, behind a mask of panic, was taking great pride in them."Indeed, Admiral. Though I would hardly call myself a fool…"
What came out, however, was a frantic cry of "The wave is gaining! We have to warn Atlantis!" In truth, a hasty return to the city was of utmost importance to Maltak, though not for cause of warning nor even survival - Maltak had made quite sure to provide an alternate means for the latter, and had disabled the First Division's radio link expressly to prevent the former. Instead, his presence in the city was a crucial step in the plan that had driven him to sink it in the first place.
Within the next few seconds, however, Maltak was harshly reminded that all plans suffer complications, and that pride often foreshadows a fall.
"Too late!"
Maltak looked behind him to see a massive wall of water, as he had expected. He hadn't expected to see it less than forty feet behind him.
"No…Oh Gods, no, I checked everything, checked all my calculations, the bomb was…"
And then, impact.
Maltak couldn't see. Breathing was beside the point due to the surging, overwhelming torrent now surrounding him, as was sense of touch, for similar reasons. Smell was another moot point, and although his sense of taste was probably working fine, opening his mouth would allow the tsunami a way into his lungs, and thus was to be avoided at all costs. Sense of direction? Maltak couldn't have identified the position of his forehead, much less "up". He could, however, hear, and after a time was able to open his eyes. Similarly, his mind, which had spent the last few seconds operating on base instinct, suddenly burst open into cognition, and his Id, overpowering in its base need for survival, was answered with the means to obtain it: "BUTTON!" And there was, indeed, a button, installed himself onto his Aktirak's dashboard for the unthinkable failure-type scenario - in other words, his present situation. Terror's grip kept him from remembering what it did, but his mission was clear: press the button. And he tried. His arms, however, were at the mercy of the torrent, all control being wrenched from their master. Another try, but to no avail. Now he was truly beginning to panic. Another try. His breath was being forced out of his chest, the same force preventing his escape robbing him of the time he had to escape in. Another try. He was fading, his primal will leaving him and beckoning his life to follow. Another try. The world, formerly consisting of jagged white, was beginning to fade to black. Another try. And then, nearly as Maltak passed out and away, his hand gripped something. The dashboard. His will was back, and with a vengeance. His mind cried out something else - "LEFT SIDE!" The button was on the left side, and his hand was on the right. He began the arduous trek across, hanging on with the knowledge that one slip meant death. Every ounce of air he had left to devote was assigned to this task. He was nearly there - only a few inches left…His lungs screamed out, but he kept going…His vision blurred, but still he kept reaching…and in our world, he died. Maltak was assaulted by one final whip of the current, forcing his battered muscles into final, permanent surrender. His hand, so close to achieving its goal, was ripped from the dashboard, his mouth was finally pried open, and the tide found its way into Maltak's unprotected, fatally exposed lungs. And, as a direct result, the world in existence exactly 8,521 years later would be a much better place. But that, lest the reader forget, is only what happened in our world.
Maltak, when he finally came around, awoke to a rather unpleasant situation: He was sopping wet, his skull ached like all the nine hells put together, and most importantly, he was not in Atlantis. "The good news…", he reminded himself once through with griping, "…is that that little nap wasn't permanent." Then, as if to accentuate the situation, he heard crackle of the nearby com system:
"…Maltak…Maltak, are you there? ...damnation…Maltak!"
"…Good Gods…", he thought to himself, "…I do not need this right now…"
He recognized the voice easily; though it was edged with far more panic than usual: It belonged to Keshtem Ulutek, Maltak's earliest and most loyal follower, who, in his own opinion, also held the posts of "chronic sycophant" and "Professional Pain In The Ass". His side still felt ready to split open at a moment's notice; but Maltak decided to put politics before pain and forced himself over to the radio.
"…Maltak! …oh, gods what will I do now…Maltak, please answ-"
"I'm right here, you imbecile."
Even though he was over a thousand miles away and communicating over radio, Ulutek's mood shift into relief was all but physically tangible.
"Malta…Oh, praise be to the Gods! You're alive! …Well; why wouldn't you be, your Transit was preordained to work, naturally…"
"Ah yes, the Transit…" Maltak reflected as Ulutek went off on his tirade. The Transit was testimony to why Maltak held the office of Grand Engineer in the first place - years ago he had discovered a way to manipulate the magnetic field used for the most common devices of flight into a vehicle in itself; capable of transporting an entire division of Atlantean soldiers halfway across the globe faster than one of their number could stand at attention. Unfortunately this required a massive amount of energy, and between the Transit and his other Pet Project (the one detonated about one half-hour ago), Maltak worried that the Capital City might not be secure and isolated inside a massive volcanic cavern as he intended, but in a somewhat…wetter place.
The fact that Ulutek was not a corpse, however, dispelled this rather irrational fear.
"…ithout you, though, the revolution would cease to exist; of course I've been writing a few of my own doctrines and such but…"
"No, you were right the first time. If I were dead, there would be no revolution. Now, what happened?"
"Well, phase one has gone off flawlessly, the city is at this moment being secured, but…well…why aren't you here?"
Maltak sighed. "Because phase one did not go off flawlessly - I made…some sort of miscalculation with the bomb; I don't know what, the timing, the yield, the height of release - the point is, it was either activate the Transit or drown, so here I am, stuck in this godforsaken corner of Germanika…"
Maltak let out another sigh. Now that it had come down to using it, Maltak severely regretted building the Intercept in the northeastern Alps. He could've just taken the time to build it in the caverns directly below his objective, but he had decided that it would take far too much effort to keep his construction efforts under cover. An alternate course of action, he mused, would be to skip the Intercept altogether and just force the machine to Exit without its help…and, in the process, undergo a shift in form from "solid" to "gas".
"…Oh, dear…oh, dear oh dear…this is a dilemma…"
"Quite. Now if you can kindly hold your tongue for a few moments, it will be a dilemma I can work out…" Ulutek obediently waited while Maltak started to sort the situation out in his mind. "I could try to locate one of the entrances to the Via Subterra…and have to take centuries to do it…and even that is contingent on whether or not our fool of a king decides to seal them all off…not to mention the lynch mob that'll form once they see the man responsible for their predicament waltzing in through the city gates…Nedakh probably won't be overjoyed either…"
And then, he realized it: returning to Atlantis at any point within his own lifetime would not only destroy his chances of gaining power, but be a nearly impossible feat in itself. Maltak's heart sank as reality finally settled in: the city, the throne, the crystal…he had his window; had his opportunity to gain all of them…and now that window was permanently and irrevocably gone…
"Damnation man, pull yourself together! "Grand Engineer" is more than a title; it is a description! You, singlehandedly, created the device that wrought destruction upon the Empire of Atlantis - with the Gods' help you can create one for its rebirth!"
And then, he gave his response: "Ulutek - will you be able to hide that radio?"
"…Yes, of course-"
"Good. You will need it. I intend to go into hiding for an…extended period of time. You are to wait in Atlantis; do everything within your power to maintain the Movement - but for the sake of Osiris, keep it strictly underground. I will contact you periodically; when I do you are to let me know every twist and turn of the Atlantean political game that I have missed out on…once I am presented with the opportune event, I will return to Atlantis and take back the helm of my Revolution, once and for all!"
Ulutek seemed to have an air of confusion in his voice.
"…Opportune event? But what is…"
"The time for me to strike…", declared Maltak, his elderly face crinkling with a smile of the utmost confidence, "…Will be somewhere in the neighborhood of eight-thousand years from now."
Maltak knew the risk of this plan - to execute it, he would need to wait for so long a time that, if his prowess for invention failed him, he would die long before his second window presented itself. But it was the only plan he had, and so, he remained resolute in his decision:
"The day I strike is the day that Kashekem Nedakh, King of Atlantis, is finally destroyed by his own, inevitable, inescapable mortality."
And with that, Maltak set to work on evading and escaping his.
And there you have it. I'm sorry if it feels confusing or anything like that, but the question of "Who the hell is this Maltak guy and what the hell is he doing" will be answered later on. Anyway, I just wanted to state that the "magnetic-wave" flight theory and the god Maltar are both derived from "the Science and Religeon of Atlantis", a wonderful dissertation by Rebmakash that can be found on (web adress deleted by idiotic server) and talks about...well, the science and religeon of Atlantis. Oh, and by the way, this is not going to be one of those "OC-Only" pieces (you might figure that out if you compare theyears mentioned above with the official timeline - as in; eKudos to whoever can figure out the year I'm setting the rest of the story in); you'll see plenty of the main characters later on - and, for good measure, abit of a freshtake on the wholeMilo/Kida Romance thing after that ;")
Inner Dictator: There - That should keep them hooked for a while - Mwuahahahaha!
Inner Procrastinator: Shaddap, I'm tryin' ta shleep...
Inner Saint: The neat little Kida emoticon is by no means mine - I forget exactly whose it was, but if anyone reviewing this knows, please congratulate him orher on my behalf ("Her" most likely).
Inner Dictator: (sics Atlantean SS on Inner Saint for no apparent reason and appropriates ;") emoticon as State Property)