TWO
The handsome soldier dreamed. Whatever he was dreaming had made his member swell up— long and curved.
Beautiful.
The soldier had cropped red hair and well-defined muscles with pale skin that in the luminosity of the oxygen tank glowed like a firefly.
Only two men survived the wreckage: the redhead and a man with dark hair and a sulky expression on his somewhat older, sleeping face. The dark-haired man was bulkier than the redhead and, in reality, not bad looking. However, Aerides attention focused eagerly on the one that seemed younger because of the prophecy. Every time a stranger with red hair entered their domain, they watched him closely.
The red-haired soldier was in sound condition except for the contusion on the back of his head.
The aura and health readings were more than promising. However, the dark-haired one had brown spots slithering around his aura. That could be a problem.
Aerides felt relieved since the dark-haired man was to be in the custody of Mormodes. The redhead, on the other hand, was his charge. A reading with the person unconscious was the best way to analyze the true nature because there would be no external interference or distractions for the subject, and Aerides’s handsome subject had a very auspicious aura.
The striking redhead awoke from his dream with a start, confusion instantly marring his sculptured features. Apparently, he thought it was water when he realized he was submerged. Of course, their technology did not know of liquid oxygen yet. The young soldier tossed and thrashed desperately in an attempt to move up, seeking air perhaps.
Realizing he could go nowhere, the soldier stood quietly for a moment. He noticed Aerides and instinctively covered his genitals. This amused Aerides because nudity was not an issue for the Atlantean. They covered their genitals for practical reasons, never out of self-consciousness or modesty. After several heartbeats, the soldier uncovered his genitals and stood stiffly, looking at Aerides with an intensely demanding glare. Pride and stubbornness shone in those green eyes.
The man was handsome and, definitively, not a coward. He was going to be a tremendously interesting charge. He started to pound the walls of the tank after a hand had flown to his throat. Obviously, he had not grasped, he could breathe the liquid surrounding him. Aerides made gestures for the man to calm, and to let him know that it was possible to breathe the liquid.
Appease yourself; it will not kill you.
The soldier swallowed some oxygen and made a funny face. Liquid oxygen always burned disgustingly with the first taste. It could not harm, but he would better use his nostrils.
Use your nose. Aerides gestured to the soldier, and the man quieted.
Aerides was deciding if the time had come to take the man out of the tank and into his custody when the soldier started to gesticulate to call his attention. The man needed to evacuate his bowels hurriedly.
Physical needs always hinder knowledge.
Aerides moved to the controls beside the oxygen tank and began its draining. He realized his focus on the soldier was making the man glare again, so he looked away and used the time it would take for the process to be completed to review the Supreme Council meeting of the previous day.
“My Lord Aerides, this assembly it’s not about history.”
“Life is always about history, honorable Lady Cattleya. History is the record we use to avoid the repetition of unfortunate mistakes,” Aerides told the Head of the Supreme Council.
“What does our history have to do with the outer-world?” Mormodes interrupted him.
“A conflict, like the one they have at the moment, destroyed our civilization more than two thousand years ago,” Aerides answered softly, not to Mormodes, but to the assembly at large.
“Ours was a religious war, Lord Aerides,” Mormodes retorted stubbornly.
“Our spies reported the origin of their conflict was some groups wanting supremacy over others, honorable Lord Mormodes. Try to impose one’s ideas over others is the key again. It does not matter whether those ideas come from religion, philosophy, or politics— it’s all the same.”
Lady Cattleya uttered softly, “Thus, you defend the position of those who want our people out of the outer-world conflict.”
“Certainly. I speak on behalf of them.” Aerides surveyed the Supreme Council for reactions.
“And you, Lord Mormodes, speak for those who want to influence the outcome of their war?”
“Absolutely, Lady Cattleya. We feel it is our fault since they are using the knowledge we gave them to destroy each other.”
“Knowledge can always go either way,” Aerides interjected. When he noticed all eyes on him again, he added. “But, intervene might disclose our existence, and we do not need that.”
There were murmurs of approval among those assembled. “Lord Aerides have made a sensitive point.” Lady Cattleya nodded at him. “We certainly do not need our existence unveiled at this moment.” The murmur became louder than before.
A childlike smirk surfaced on Mormodes’s face as he spoke, “We could send assassins to dispatch their leaders.”
A unanimous gasp of shock escaped from the Supreme Council. It swirled the chamber as a troubled wind presaging a storm.
Aerides was furious. “Honorable Lord Mormodes, how many leaders must we kill to stop this war? A dozen? A hundred? One thousand? We might as well use our forces and annihilate them once and for all.” He browsed the other members for reactions. “Devastation is a lot quicker than stealthy, individual murders.”
Mormodes stared at Aerides gravely. “You are twisting my words.”
Aerides responded frankly, “Not at all, my dear Lord. In a war, one kill is the same as one thousand. It will not make a difference if the core of the issue is not clarified and settled.”
Lady Cattleya intervened, “My Lord Aerides, it was my understanding you were speaking on behalf of those against interference. Now you chant of annihilation. I cannot comprehend your position.”
Aerides grinned at Lady Cattleya and then to the whole assembly. “Our position is one and definitive. Let Kanpora resolve their differences on their own. Let Atlantis live in peace.”
More than three-quarters of the Supreme Council cheered and applauded excitedly. Aerides looked at Mormodes and gave his opponent a sweet smile. Mormodes plainly fumed, looking mesmerizingly formidable. He was not used to be defeated in this arena and they were usually on the same side of the discussion.
Not this time.
Aerides could not understand why Mormodes was so intransigent about this armed conflict in Kanpora. True, Mormodes felt somehow responsible for the outcome. It was his proposition which had encouraged them to give their atomic fusion technology to the outer-world scientists, although its purpose had been anything but warfare oriented.
Atlantis used solar, hydraulic and aeolic energy. No need for minerals or deceased animals, nonetheless the people of the outer-world were inclined to use anything except the inexhaustible resources. The sun would always shine. The water would always run. The wind would always blow. What could be easier?
Anyway, Aerides had a theory about their motives, based on their meat-clogged brains. Nothing good could come out of animal flesh inside your body. The only external flesh healthfully allowed in your body was that received or given during passionate intercourse. He knew stories of people from Kanpora using animals for their pleasure, but that was not the Atlantean way, at least, not openly.
Your body was yours to enjoy as long as all the parties involved were agreeable.
There were no restrictions of sex or appearances, like the ones he knew restrained the people of Kanpora— a confinement created by belief systems abandoned by the Atlantean long ago. Precisely, because Religion had been the origin of the war that destroyed their civilization: Gods against a God.
What people of the outer-world had not grasped yet was that they keep looking outside for something that was within. In the end, all their deities were remarkably human-like in image and behavior, but it was because Divinity lived within all humans. They would get there, perhaps in another two thousand years.
Mormodes brought Aerides back to the Supreme Council chamber. “For us, it just seems logical to stop them if what they are heading to is the destruction of the planet.”
Lady Cattleya’s hand flew to her neck. “Are you implying they have achieved the power to do so?”
“My dear Lady, it is not beyond the realms of possibility with the knowledge in their hands now.” Mormodes shrugged— a gesture that always made arousal stir inside Aerides.
Mormodes was an excellent bed-partner and an eloquent man, but Aerides couldn’t let Mormodes’s guilt set Atlantis into a conflict that was not hers. “Knowledge we gave them, honorable Lord Mormodes,” he spread his arms toward the assembly, “with great expectations nonetheless, but misused.”
“Precisely because it is our fault, we must stop them,” Mormodes retorted acidly.
“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?” Aerides voiced in Latin as he usually did when close to rage. “Appreciated members of the Supreme Council, Kanpora is barely recuperating from what they call their World War One. The people of the West Continent have not joined this new conflict. There might still be hope from their diplomacy. We must remember that wars are also a way of the planet to attack overpopulation. They would reconcile their contradictions at the end. We have seen this time and time again. We cannot allow guilt to guide our actions in this matter.”
Before Mormodes could riposte to that, Lady Cattleya raised her hand to stop him. “We have run out of time. The members of the Supreme Council would meditate on these concerns, and we will assemble again in three days.”
As everyone rose to leave, Mormodes sent a very harsh glare his way. Aerides sighed. So much for a nice exchange with him later that night; Mormodes surely would not be in the mood for penetration. He would allow Mormodes appeasement on his own terms. He could go a couple more days without an exchange of fluids, so there was no need brave neighbor’s sulky mood.
On his way out of the Supreme Council Building, Aerides received information on how their defenses had wrecked two vessels from the West Continent, and that was how he had ended in front of the handsome red-haired soldier.
The tank was about to be completely drained.
What the people of the north part of the West Continent called themselves? Yes, Americans, but was that not the name of the entire continent, instead of just the one country?
Well, who was he to understand how they managed their appellations.
Aerides introduced himself, after welcoming the soldier. He waited until the tank drained completely and opened it for the soldier to exit. He offered his hand to help the man, who was shaking slightly, to step out. “What is your name?”
The redhead answered in a monotone. “Jeremiah Davidson. Fire Control Technician Third Class. twenty-six, sixty-nine, forty-seven.”
Aerides chuckled. “I cannot believe that long string of words is your name. Give me something short, just as I gave you. See?” He made the gesture of something little putting his left hand’s thumb and forefinger close together. “Aerides.”
The soldier repeated the same nonsense over and over like a talking block of ice, staring ahead and ignoring Aerides. Maybe the soldier had not liked him chuckling.
Aerides put his hand on the tense bare shoulder. “You are not a prisoner.”
The striking soldier looked Aerides in the eye, green lightning burning from those depths. “Then, I demand to return to my ship immediately.”
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