CHAPTER 2: Home Unknown
Rourke shook his head violently. No matter what he did it seemed he could not stop the humming in his ears. It was bad enough that a clinking sound went through him with each step. It all felt so strange to him. No longer did he feel the need to fill his lungs with air. He was not even sure if he had lungs anymore. Still a constant pain flowed through is crystalline muscles. It was always a new and unyielding burn, and he found he would have to cope.
It had not been long until he reached an area where, as he had not expected, he no longer needed to be guided fully by the light of his own body. He paced forward to the light, only to behold a grand spectacle as he neared the cave mouth.
Atlantis still lived, the waterfalls reflecting crimson in the night from the lava and the water sanguine in the dull red light of a strange casing hovering above the city. Somewhere in the distance a stone statue flew.
Closer to him was the greatest proof it had survived. He spied a cloaked woman placing her hand on a panel of some sort of vehicle and activating it.
"If the crystal is--"
"Leb yoos EH-seh-nik duhp?!" He heard the woman's voice and ducked out of sight as she turned. He had little idea what she had said in her native tongue, but he could guess.
"One of those warriors, no doubt," Rourke mused. He heard footsteps, slow and quiet as they were even upon the rare clumps of grass, come right for him. "She's not searching, she's sneaking up! But how…" With that the ex-commander realized the howling was not in his ears, but was actually coming from him. The woman could hear him. He glanced around in a hurry, instinctively looking for anything he could use as a weapon. To his left was a stalagmite, it's base worn slightly by water. "Maybe if I tug hard enough…" Rourke grabbed for it, only to find himself noisily fall backward when the stone came loose with no effort. The sound of movement had stopped for but a moment, giving Rourke time to simply look at what he had done and smile.
"SHAHD-lu-coh-nen." Her words were answered by Rourke as he tried to slam her with his new club. The woman was faster than he was, however, and managed to avoid his swing.
She crashed down on his shoulder with the bludgeon on her weapon, and Rourke could hear himself crack. To his actual surprise, the pain was not as great as it should have been compounded with his existing hurt. The attack had brought her within range again, and he pummeled her, sending the woman through the air like some unwanted toy. After she hit the great shell by the entrance, Rourke went over to investigate. The woman was simply unconscious, and it was clear her breathing was labored.
"Where was I?" he finally buzzed aloud. "Ah, yes…" Rourke hoisted her up, a featherweight to him now, and looked her over. It was obvious the armor under the cloak had benefited her little just now. "How considerate of you…" The ex-commander removed the cloak in a realization that if the Crystal was still there, he would somehow need to sneak into the city. He simply discarded the woman, folding the cloak over his arm as he went to a glowing shard on the ground, a piece of himself that had broken off. Rourke obtained and examined it. "And me without the glue," he commented in a hum. The man toyed with it. The crystal form, like someone fiddling with the pieces of a broken vase, fit the shard back into his shoulder a few times to discover, on the last fitting, it stuck, melding almost seamlessly with his faceted body. Sparking eyes grew a bit wider but for an instant in mild disbelief before the smile again broke on his face. "Hmmm. Seems I've been dealt a good hand."
The crystal man donned the cloak, only to find it still did not cover his boots, nor hide his gleaming face. Glancing around he noticed a puddle from a recent rain, and with it, mud. Like camouflage he applied it, smearing it over all exposed parts, taking care not to get it into his eyes. Thus did he dim himself.
Rourke then set sights back toward the city, noticing the Ketak still there, whirring melodiously. "Thank you kindly, Miss. You left the car running for me." He stepped over to it and mounted. The pendant was still in the slot. Experimentally Rourke copied the woman's previous actions and placed his hand on the glowing red panel. He raised a crystalline brow s it began to move as if by thoughts. Being so easy to operate, he directed it to fly to the outskirts of the city.
. . .
In the dead of night Rourke found it easy to slip into the palace. Either the people felt there was no need for guards, he had been lucky enough to catch them at the end of a shift, or they were incredibly daft, Rourke had thought. If anyone knew about the Crystal or what he had been turned into, it would be "Ol' King Cole," he had decided. Perhaps the crystal could still be moved.
In the throne room before him lay a strange scene. Two men spoke in pleading voices. One sat on the throne, clutching his arm while the other continued to spew forth words in gibberish. Despite their tongues, Rourke could tell the standing man was desperate just by the tone of his voice.
. . .
"Uhd DAH-thoo-noh-suhg EH-seh-nik, kwalm MOH-sheh-noh-suhg EH-seh-nik. (But I am a dancer, not a hunter!)"
"SOH-kahm KAH-behr-seh-ken luht MAH-kihj-tuhg gihm SEH-kihj-tuhg moakh MAH-kah-toat. MOH-sheh-noh-suhg SHOO-dihn EH-seh-nen. (You must be assigned to where the king and queen need you. You are a skilled hunter.)"
"Tehb LAH-shuht EH-seh-nem. GAH-leh-nuhg-tem KAH-gihn whit ah-BIH-lehd EH-seh-toat. (Once I was. My skills are now unpracticed.)"
"SOH-lesh MAH-toh-toat. RIH-shen SHOH-tihn GIHB-soh-lahb EH-seh-noat puhk SOH-lesh leb BIH-lehd MAH-kah-toat.(All is well. A training course is tomorrow for all those who need the practice.)"
"Uhd…! (But…!)"
"Puhk TEE-suht MOH-kihn GEHP-doo-sihk KAH-too-nen. Luhg-DAH-thoo-noh-nen. (I suggest, for you safety, you do not continue. Dance in leisure.)"
. . .
Rourke analyzed the situation. "Who is this guy? He parades around as if he were the king. Still… He talks like an old colonel I used to know, just from his tone… Whoever he is, he's probably important… Perhaps the King finally kicked the bucket."
The ex-commander carefully sneaked around, clinging to the walls. He froze when the conversation suddenly stopped, and he wondered if he had been heard.
. . .
"Lahd NIHG-leh-bihn EH-seh-toat duhp? Shoam TREE-lehb-nen doo? (What is that sound? Do you hear it?)"
. . .
They paused. "They must be hearing me," Rourke mentally chided himself. It seemed he had, after all, been dealt a foul move in this chess game.
. . .
The man clutching his arm finally spoke in his meaningless language. "Shoam KHOH-beh-ten KRAH-shuhn-tah THREH-ten. (It must be the Crystal humming.)"
. . .
To Rourke's luck, the conversation continued. With great effort he made his way behind the throne, itself.
. . .
"Goam moakh shoam KREEN-tohl EH-seh-toat doo, khoab-DEH-sheh-toap? (Is it louder to you, Khobdesheh?)"
. . .
Rourke pounced over the throne, balancing on his stomach momentarily to wrap his arm around the pained man's neck and pulling him up so he could stand on his crystalline feet again.
"Koog kahk!" the man chocked in nonsense speech.
"You!" the other exclaimed now in English before turning to run.
Rourke screeched angrily, grabbing hold of part of the throne. "I wouldn't do that if I were you! Unless you don't want to see this man alive again!" A cracking, crumbling sound turned his head. Rourke found in his anger he had managed to crystallize a part of the throne. "Or if you want a crystal statue." His words were only partly a bluff, as he now had an idea as to how to execute it.
The other man halted, slowly pivoting back.
"That's better." Rourke now addressed the man he held. "Now son, how about it? You're gonna tell me where the king is."
"Milo is not here!"
"So he did survive," Rourke mused before buzzing, "I didn't ask about Thatch. Where's the king?"
"Milo is the king!" You killed Kashekim!"
"Hmmm. Sweet was right. That wasn't a part of the plan. And how did Milo get to be king?" Rourke shrugged mentally, though he wanted to know the latter very much, though other things were put higher in his priorities. He then crackled, "Fine. In that case, why am I alive, what can I do, and where's the crystal?"
"I do not know!" he sputtered.
"Is that thing hovering above the city it?"
The man was silent for a moment. "You will meet your doom!"
"Yeah? Well, that's a funny thing. I've been told that one before. Your silence was 'yes' enough, thanks."
The man roared angrily in Atlantean. "Thrih-KAHR-bihn! (Abomination!)"
"Hmmm. Well, we don't need a linguist for that, do we? Now, tell me or I'll show you!"
The pained man seemed to think for a moment, making Rourke question whether or not he was coming up with some ploy. "I control the Crystal. I could command it to destroy you!"
Rourke was unconvinced. "From what I saw, nothing controlled it. Nice bluff, but no prize!" The ex-commander squeezed a little harder.
The hostage choked out his words. "I can prove it! I will brighten it!" He lifted what appeared to Rourke as a strange, three-fingered glove or gauntlet, and flexed it. His head lowered as he groaned in pain. As promised the crystal's light upon the city brightened until he relaxed, the man now gasping for breath as he was strangled.
Rourke loosened his grip slightly, the man now breathing easier. "He may not be bluffing," he thought. Aloud he buzzed, "Either way, I'm a good fighter and stronger than I used to be. I could take you and your friend here as fast as you could me. Seems we're in a bit of a stalemate, aren't we?"
The hostage looked to the other. "It seems so."
"Well then," Rourke chimed, "we each have things we want, or so I gather from the way the two of you were going on." He paused in thought. "I need information. I need to know why I'm even speaking to you right now, or, more importantly, what I've become." The crystal entity chose his words carefully. "I need to know for… the sake of knowledge. You have the answers, or someone here does. Tell you what. You get the information for me and I'll do something for you."
"You wish to harm our people! I will make no such deal with you!"
"No, I don't want to hurt you." This was true, for he wanted the Crystal, not caring one way or another if he hurt others. Rourke quickly used the misperception to his advantage. "I… I am enlightened you could say."
"Why then did you desire the location of the Heart of Atlantis?"
Rourke answered quickly out of necessity. "Well, if the crystal is still around, it might help me answer my other questions." He motioned to his own crystalline body as he finally released the man to approach the nervous other. Looking back he added, "Now, what do you want?"
"What I want is the safety of Atlantis as a whole. I have begun plans, but I cannot disclose them to others."
"Fine, we'll do it your way." Dissatisfied with the direction this was going and feeling he wasn't getting anywhere, Rourke discarded any shred of diplomacy. Motioning to the bystander, he whirred, "He's heard too much." With that he punched him so hard in the stomach the hunter dancer fell unconscious immediately.
"Thrih-KAHR-bihn! Heal him! Save him now!"
"'Heal' him?"
"Now! Or I will… I will destroy you!" he bellowed, seeming to forget he had such power, Rourke noted mentally. "Someone generally doesn't forget things like that. But I can't risk anything yet." "You are a crystal! Heal him!" he heard the clawed man yell.
Angrily Rourke moved toward the fallen person. "How?!"
"Try putting your hand on the wound and concentrate. Want to heal him. Your energy will do so!"
The crystal form tried, realizing to strike any deal he needed to do it. Despite the effort, there was no change. "I can't!" he roared like flame.
"Then use his! Around his neck!"
Rourke did so, not thrilled to be taking orders from someone inferior. After several attempts, the man gasped for air, healed but still unconscious. "Well, he still won't be a witness." He looked back at the sitting man. There he hunched painfully concentrating as the crystal flashed. He looked to Rourke, a hopeful look blasted away to one of alarm. "What were you trying to pull?"
"I… It is… It is difficult to control the Crystal!"
The ex-commander could see through the lie. "You were trying to kill me. Now that's not a nice thing to do to someone who's trying to make you a deal. Seriously, what were you going to tell me?" At this point, Rourke felt more at ease, sincerely doubting the gloved man could do anything to him. "Still," he mused, "if he thinks I believe that, he'd think he had a handle on me. He wouldn't be afraid to share information so much. Then he can lead me to what I need…"
"…Atlantis needs stability. I need someone to help ensure things are taken care of. Let me explain how I did this…" he said as he lifted his pincers in to view.
. . .
"Can't this thing go any faster?" The man's tone dripped with anxiety.
"Milo, she eez goeeng as fast as she can. We are almost there."
"I know, but the sooner, the better. We've got to figure out what's going on." He looked to Kida, undisturbed by the Digger 2's rough ride. She lay peacefully propped against him, still exhausted from the shock her body had received about a day and a half ago. Despite the fact this was only the second time the drilling machine had ever been used, Milo was rather surprised Mole seemed to be taking no pleasure in driving it, probably as a result of the entire situation.
About a minute before reaching the cliff, Kida awoke, stretching as best she could in the confined space by hugging her ribs.
"Feeling better?" asked the concerned husband.
"Yes…" she rubbed her eyes. "How far away are we?"
"We are here now," interjected Mole.
"Good!" came Milo and Kida in a strange simultaneousness, obviously the result of living together.
Kida dared to leap from the vehicle while it was still moving to rush ahead as it slowed in front of the small caravan. Milo waited a few seconds, jumping out as soon as the machine had stopped, and tried to catch up. He saw her enter the opening to the greater cavern and he followed, only to stop almost immediately, stepping just past the great spiral shell.
Kida stood where he had 27 years ago when he first witnessed the city. Her shoulders rose and fell with great breath, but not with amazement as he had had, but the same horror that ate away at him now.
Atlantis stood intact, but as quiet as a crypt. The empire, by the glow of the Fires Below, shone the color of blood. When his wife fell to her knees, he ran to her, thinking she had relapsed, only to find her lying prostrate, praying to the spirits desperately for help. He did not blame her, for the Mother Crystal was nowhere in sight.
"¡Mi Dios!" Milo heard Audrey cry, followed by Sweet's, "Oh… Lord help us," as others arrived, voicing their alarm.
"Oh my gosh…!" The linguist shook his head in disbelief. If it weren't for the fact he saw the occasional gourdhouse light he would have thought the city dead. Milo did not notice his wife rise from prayer.
"We must go," he heard her say. "Get the vehicles and the pendants."
"Wait!" Mole pushed through. "Sometheeng does not smell right," he said suspiciously.
"What else can we do, Mole?" came Milo. "We have to look into this!"
"I don't ah like it either." Vinny placed his hand on the king's shoulder. . "Reminds me ah somethin' I met up with before."
"What?"
"It was ah somethin' they put me in jail for, you know, the one it ah seemed they had police set up to arrest me. They were fast to blame ah me for a detonation. It almost feels like a setup or somethin'."
"I do not know about that, but I steel do not like theez."
"Hey Milo, don't you think we could try disguises or something?" Audrey asked.
"Well, I guess." He looked to the smoking woman just ambling over.. "Packard, do you still have any of that old makeup you had from a couple of years ago?"
She flicked her cigarette aside. "What's it to you?" she droned.
"Well, we could use it for disguises. Our skin doesn't exactly match the Atlanteans."
"I dunno. Hold on a second." The communications officer strode back, returning a moment later with a bag. "Yeah, I got rid of most of it, but I still have some." What she held up wasn't nearly enough for the six that needed it most, Kida needing only enough to cover her tattoos and Sweet requiring none to speak of.
Mole spoke up, a rodent-like grin on an enthusiastic face. "We could use sedeements and water to help. Common mud."
Audrey sighed. "Yeah, you're right."
"Much as I hate ta contaminate my equipment, we'll need ta mix it in somethin'." Sweet pulled from his bag a large beaker.
"That is good thinking," began Kida as she took the glass container. "Mole? I would assume you would like to do the 'honors?'"
"Oui, mademoiselle!" he came, gratefully and gentlemanly taking the beaker from Kida's hands and scampered to a puddle nearby.
"But what about hair? Or tattoos?" The scholar motioned with an outward palm.
"That can be taken care of," the queen said, looking over the ground.
"Uh, Kida, what are you doing?"
"Searching for… Here!" She began to examine a plant at the cave's mouth with broad magenta blossoms. "Do you have more containers, Sweet?"
"Yes I do, ma'am. Need one?"
"Yes, please." Kida gathered a few blooms and dug up some roots before accepting the glass.
As Kida squeezed a pasty substance from a broken root into the container, Vinny spoke. "Eh, your majesty, those flowers are ah nice an' all, but I don' think this is ah good time."
"I would disagree." She took a deep breath, holding it as she shook the bloom over the beaker. A cloud of blue pollen appeared, which she wafted away and into the glass container. While he watched her stir the cream and pollen with a stick a wisp of the blue powder went up his nose, causing him to sneeze. When he opened his eyes again, he spied his wife jamming the stick into the concoction forcefully, and when she had removed it the end had splintered in such a way as to separate the fibers, making a crude brush. "This shall be for the tattoos."
"And the root sap would color our hair?"
"Correct, Milo. I do warn you all, though I doubt it matters, than this pollen can stain your skin. I have brushed against these plants before."
The cartographer wondered what was taking the geologist so long. "Mole? Why--"
"Milo, come here."
The king went to the man still standing at the puddle.
"Look. Do you see theez?"
"They…" He bent down to look, stretching out a hand toward, but not touching, the prints and scrapings. "They look like bootprints."
"They are over a day old, but I am sure you are right. Judgeeng from how deep they are, the eendeeveedual must have been fairly heavy."
"Sounds right. But how could there be bootprints here?"
Mole just shrugged.
"Guys, are you coming or not?" Audrey used the cream to smooth her hair straight.
"Yeah, sorry."
Mole scooped up the mud with loving care and took the makeup from Packard, the darker clay turning the makeup, once a shade too light, to the perfect color. However, everyone knew it would crumble away with time. Milo simply mussed his hair, unsure of what to do with it after using the root sap, and watched while Kida undid the tie that held the bunch of hair along the left side. She then used it to make a partial ponytail in the back. He then participated with most of the rest of them in the smearing of muddied makeup on skin.
"Milo, you understand the tattoo designs, do you not?"
"Well, yeah, of course."
"Help me apply the paint then," she said, covering the last of her royal tattoos with the mud mixture.
"Let me guess. Nothing besides basic stuff you might give children and tattoos given to young warriors?"
"Yes."
Using a stick, leaf, and finger he applied modest tattoos to his friends. Milo, however, found it difficult to persuade Cookie that the United States tattoo on his chest would not help him blend in with Atlantean culture.
"Y'know, I think we're missin' somethin'." Sweet plucked the edge of his tanktop.
"Clothes," answered Milo, who sighed. "We don't really have enough for a disguise for everyone. We'd stick out like a cat in ancient Greece."
Everyone gave him a blank look.
"Cats were sacred and weren't allowed out of Egypt in those times. Point being, we've got to get some clothes from somewhere before or as we sneak in."
"Are there any shops we could ah hit?"
"Well," began Milo, "there is a store that might work…"
. . .
"I cannot believe I am stealing! And from my own people!"
"Jeez, believe it," said Audrey quietly.
Everyone now wore cloaks and robes, clothes considered not only warm to Atlantean climate, but also more formal. "At least," Milo mused, they aren't royal and help to hide what we look like." He knew that would be important as their disguised crumbled and sweated away.
As a distant hushed murmur met Milo's ears he heard Kida shush everyone. All was quiet as they hid amongst the clothes, listening to the voices in the night as they spoke in Atlantean.
"And Khobdesheh did not believe you when you reported in?" came a gruff voice.
"No, he simply dismissed it," responded a woman. He said I must have seen a gorlock and I dreamt when it knocked me unconscious. But you believe me, yes?"
"As outlandish as it is, I do. You are not one to lie, Keneshea."
"Thank you." A pause hung like death. "Were you reassigned as well?"
"Yes! I am an artisan, not a cleaner of the streets!"
"Why did they decide this?"
Milo watched Kida try to slip out for a look, but when he tried to follow, he lost his balance, inadvertently knocking some small boxes.
"Shhh!"
The discussion thus halted, as did Milo and Kida. A nervous moment passed before something unintelligible was murmured, and then the conversation resumed.
"I was afraid it was Khobdesheh or a guard." As this was said, the linguist resumed following his wife.
"I understand," answered the man. "You are not free to speak your mind, now…"
"I wonder what changed them so?"
"I do not know. They are the first to risk the lives of their people like this! How many died in the construction of the case? How many elders perished during the energy wave?"
"I can only guess. It could have been much worse, I suppose. People died, yes, but half the city could have for all our knowledge."
"I still wondered what changed them."
"It must have been some exposure to something in the outer world. Supposedly it is not the perfect culture Kida envisioned. Perhaps there is a darkness above us…"
"Perhaps, but Milo was from the surface. He might have had it in him…"
The king met up with the queen at the edge of a horizontal display. Crouching, they peered over the pottery into the street. He glanced back to see his friends slowly approach. Milo couldn't help but notice a strange noise, like that of an animal around.
"Are you saying he corrupted her?!" came the woman in exclamation.
"Shhh! Keep your voice down! Yes, that is what I am saying. Or perhaps they both encountered something above. I only know we did not worry about this before their last leaving for WEH-dihn-tem."
"But what you speak of is treasonable!"
The noise grew louder, and it was not unlike a sniffing sound.
"So are your words my friend. We are no longer in the same age. It seems our rulers have fallen further than those at the time of the MEH-behl-moak."
That sound was disquietingly close. All this time, Milo watched Kida's face as well as he man and woman, the latter of the two he was already a friend with. Kida's face grew confused, desperate, as he knew his must have looked. Breathing hard, she looked as if she was about to jump out, running to the two.
"No!" Milo exclaimed in whisper.
Kida looked at him irritated, but her eyes grew wide as she looked back. She held out her hands as if to say, "No…!"
"Ahhhhh!" Milo looked over his shoulder just in time to be pounced. Obbi barked and bellowed, smothering Milo with his massive tongue. "Down, Obbi! Bad lava dog!"
Horrified expressions appeared on the faces of the ex-artisan and the horn blower. "Guards!"
"No!" Kida spoke first in a loud tone, then a softer one as she motioned with out-turned palms. She approached them. "I mean you no harm." "Who are you?" Keneshea asked.
"Why do you believe this?"
The man looked at the disguised queen as one would a fool. "Look around you woman! Do you not see what has been done and know who must be responsible?"
"I do," began the anxious queen, "but we have done nothing to make our home like this!"
"We?" The artisan hunter notably peered at her face. "Kida?! Spirits!" He grabbed Keneshea's shoulder and pulled her down prostrate like he did. "Your majesty! Forgive us! We shall be happy with whatever you do! Even if that means death for our treason."
"What are you talking about? I will not kill you!"
"Might as well join her…" Milo thought, pushing the young lava whale off and walking up. He helped Whedon up gently. "What happened here?" The linguist noticed him shudder in fear at his touch. He spied his wife doing the same with the other.
Keneshea spoke. "You… You are not angry? Neither for breaking our curfew nor our other transgressions?"
"What? No! What happened here?"
The woman continued. "I mean no disrespect, your majesties, so take pity on us in advance. Atlantis is this way by you orders."
"What?!" Kida's voice was still quiet, now out of temporary habit, but the effect was the same as a full exclamation. "We ordered no such thing."
The confused look was most notable on the man's face. "You do not remember ordering to harness the crystal and assigning others to make sure everything ran in a 'stable fashion?' You do not recall ordering the hunters to report in to Khobdesheh to keep them in check and the rest of us safe?"
"Keep them in check?! No. My gosh, what could have-- Wait! Khobdesheh… Stability…"
Milo and Kida looked directly at each other in surprise and voiced their thoughts simultaneously. "Khobdesheh!"
"The plan I never had the time to see…"
That machine he thought would provide stability… He did it without approval! Jiminy Christmas! We were gone for so long he--"
"--Went ahead against our wishes and did it!" the queen finished.
Obbi whimpered, pressing up against Milo's leg.
When the other explorers had arrived to listen the Atlanteans, unsure of their allegiance, stepped back, especially when Vinny spoke. "Eh, Milo? Mind ah fillin' us in?"
"It's a long story," Milo now spoke in English. "Just a second." Turning back to Keneshea, he inquired in the same language, "Is everyone this miserable?"
"As far as my knowledge permits."
"Oh, dear." He shook his head. "Have everyone gather in the main plaza as fast as you can. Tell them Kida and I have returned and we're speaking there… But don't panic them! Say, umm…." Milo, began to speak almost to himself. "Say we're pleased with their loyalty. Yeah, that's good, that's good… We have a problem to solve."
Based off the Disney Picture "Atlantis: the Lost Empire." The Name "Shards of Chaos" is property of Disney. The term "gorlock" is property of Disney Interactive. The characters, "MUH-suh MIH-kee" and Khohbdesheh are my property, and I acknowledge I do not own the names. Fan fiction storyline also my property. Milo Thatch, Kidagakash, Bendoh, Rourke and other characters, names, concepts, and all Atlantean in this story are property of the Walt Disney Company.
Disclaimer: Atlantis: the Lost Empire, and the characters, language, symbols, storylines and titles are property of he Walt Disney Company. This site has been created for entertainment, non-profit purposes only. See sources.
Permission must be granted by the fan authors/artists before their material is to be used. Credit must also be given to the respective author/artist in question. Do so via their e-mail. Questions? Comments? E-mail me at Like_A_Star8800@yahoo.com.
