The party from Avalon spent the day snacking, talking, and taking turns resting. Time seemed to stretch and slow down to make for an incredibly long day. Dusty and Timothy went to work so they would not draw suspicion from their absence. They returned after dark and brought with them the two recruits from the village.
Hours after the town fell asleep and became silent, Al uttered the phrase that put his cybernetic body into enhanced mode, and they slipped out to accomplish their mission. Falkor and Dusty were disappointed they could not go, but the risks were too high. They reluctantly remained behind.
Eight intruders against an estimated fifty, but they were ready and confident. Splitting up as planned, they melted into the shadows, each one intent on their part of the operation.
The fast acting darts did their job, and the two by the main door went down before they realized what was happening. Al heard a double thump as two more around the corner fell to the effects of the sleep drug. Soon they were gathered by the door as Edward activated the mechanism that opened the door. Things were starting well.
Past the exterior hatch, a corridor curved in both directions, with the chamber of the sacred box directly before them behind metal doors.
There were no lights visible from the outside, as a secret facility should be, but the inside was well lit, removing all chance of concealment. Al surprised even his friends when he winked at his wife, and in a blur of motion he disappeared; headed to perform his part in the plan and secure the prisoners before they could become hostages.
“He is fast.” said a startled Kira.
Twenty feet down the gently curving corridor to their left was a uniformed guard in the process of pulling his weapon. A fast moving body slammed into him, and with a grunt, the surprised guard was thrown against the wall. He bounced and lay unmoving—knocked cold by a man he never saw coming.
“Yes—very fast,” said Elizabeth proudly. “Come, we must hurry.”
Al was in the zone. His senses were supercharged as he made his way to the room where the rebels were being detained. His skin, loaded with tiny sensors, felt the wind rushing by as his feet tapped the floor, and so wrapped up in the sensation that before he could stop he bowled over a second guard. The unwitting man had entered the corridor at just the wrong time and after colliding with Al seemed to be unconscious. He shot him with a dart to be sure.
He made it to the room where the prisoners were and stopped. For a moment, he listened and heard only silence. They were either asleep or moved somewhere else.
He checked the hallway in both directions one more time and then tapped lightly on the door, “Darius, are you in there?”
A muffled reply asked, “Master Clark, is that you?”
The voice did not sound familiar.
“Is Darius Forman inside there?”
“No…my friend, he did not rejoin us after his audience with the king.”
“He’s not here?”
“Darius was called to the throne room yesterday. He did not return.”
“Are you friends of Darius?” asked Al.
“Yes. We were to join him in the rebellion. Can you get us out?” begged the voice.
“Stand back from the door, and get ready to move. We have to find Darius.”
They had equipped the door with a hasp and a crude lock; the original mechanism disabled decades ago. It was no match for Al. He planted his foot on the wall beside the handle and pulled, and the latch separated from the frame with little complaint.
Inside were two haggard men happy to be free. They were in their mid-thirties and now wide awake. The man that spoke through the door asked, “Are you The Traveler from another world that Darius told us about?”
“Simply put, yes I am. Do you know where Darius might be? We’re kind of on a schedule.”
“It is happening now? The revolt to return the temple to the people has begun?”
“If all goes well. But really, do you have any idea where he might be?”
The quiet man finally spoke, “They kept me for a while in a closet off the throne room. Maybe he is imprisoned there?”
Al thought for a second and replied, “It sounds like a good place to start. Follow me, and please—stay behind me and don’t try to be heroes.”
He used the memory of his journey through the ductwork of the temple to head in the direction of the king’s throne room. The mission was becoming increasingly dangerous as time passed. For this uprising to succeed, they would have to hurry.
Elizabeth knew their time was limited, and these first few minutes were critical to prevent a drawn-out, dug-in confrontation. Her son ran beside her with the rest of the party close behind. They followed the long hall leading to the library, where they could install the program that contained Tiro.
Behind them, people were shouting, and the sound of running boots echoed against their backs. The guards were piling out of their quarters at the other end of the hallway. While some were slowed by their attempt to get dressed as they ran, others disregarded their attire and sped to the rescue of their king.
They passed a large curtained opening on the inside wall and were headed for another when they heard the sound of laser pistols firing, and tiny holes began to appear on the walls beside them.
The plan had included a priority. If the party were to get pinned down, Chris was to continue to the library with Tiro while the rest provided cover.
“In here!” Elizabeth yelled.
Chris ran on. Nothing was to stop him.
The rest of the insurgents did not need to be told twice, and they ducked behind the ornate curtain to return fire, quickly forcing the defenders to retreat past the curve of the passageway. While the enemy scurried back, they turned to check the room they had invaded. Behind the curtain lay the throne room, and in a chair before the opulent throne was a bloody-faced Darius, secured by ropes. King Agenor and a guard stood over him; the king’s hand frozen over his head in a position to strike.
Chris pictured himself like Al Clark as he ran all out for the library at the end of the corridor. He ran like he had never run before, and no one tried to stop him. The curtain that covered the doorway grew quickly before him, and within minutes he was throwing the covering to the side and entering his objective.
Two old men in white robes huddled over a reader, deep in the mysteries of the technology, they were oblivious to the revolution. They turned and in unison said, “You are not allowed in here.”
Chris was half their age and armed. He was not concerned.
He stepped over to the reader, looked at them and smiled, “Watch this,” he said.
From his pocket, he took the cube that was Tiro and inserted it into the machine. At first, nothing happened, then the hologram formed on the platform behind the monitor and the little gray alien appeared.
Chris looked at the two so-called scholars and said, “Gentlemen, meet Tiro. He is your new guide to the temple. I think you will learn to like him a lot.”
Speechless, their mouths wide open, they alternated their stares between the stranger, and the even stranger being before them.
“I have control Mister Morris, would you like to close and lock the doors?” asked the hologram.
“Yes Tiro, let’s close the doors. That will be an excellent start.”
Al heard the guards hiding in the corridor long before they noticed him. They were lined up along the inner wall waiting for a chance to strike. He told the two revolutionaries behind him to go back and hide inside the first door they found. They would be safer there than where he was going. The two men turned and then glanced back, and Al was gone. A ghost in the wind.
He stayed to the outside of the corridor, and the guards felt the wind from his wake as he passed. The curtain seemed to move by itself, and Al entered the throne room. At the other curtained opening further down the corridor were Elizabeth and the rest of his party. They were motionless and staring towards the center of the room. His eyes followed their gaze, and he saw Darius secured to the chair, the King holding a gun to the dazed man’s head.
The guard was slowly backing up, with his empty hands above his head, making it clear he wanted no part of what was about to happen.
The king was scared but furious enough to override his fear. “You will not succeed. My guards have you cornered like the dogs you are.”
He was waving the pistol and screaming, “You have no right to be here. This temple is mine and has been for generations. You will not drive me from it!”
The king mistakenly believed the situation to be a stalemate. Because he was armed, he thought the odds were even. It was far from that. The angry king pointed his handgun in Elizabeth’s direction and fired, barely missing the ear of Al’s wife. The situation was deteriorating rapidly, and Al realized the threat needed to be eliminated—and quickly. He knew what he had to do. Al raised his laser pistol and shot him in the middle of the forehead.
The king’s face changed from anger to surprise, as the weapon slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor, followed by the man. He uttered one final “No,” with his last breath, and then died. The King was dead, and his dynasty along with him.
Almost immediately, the original titanium doors that the curtains replaced so many years ago slid closed, and Tiro materialized next to Al.
“We have control of the facility’s central computer Mister Clark,” he said, “The outpost is locked down. Do you wish for me to make the surrender announcement?”
Al’s reaction to the king’s aggression had been immediate, and without thought. The King was the first person he had to shoot in his new life, and in the aftermath, it made him sad—but not sorry.
“Yes, Tiro. Let them know their temple is under new management.”
“What sir?”
“You know what I mean, tell the people here there is no reason to fight for something that now belongs to everyone on the island. Let them know they are to gather in the chamber of the sacred cube, and I will fill them in on what happens now. Tell them today their lives just changed dramatically for the better.”
Tiro systematically opened the doors and herded the people occupying the facility to the meeting chamber, where Al and his team waited. There was no resistance.
Edward Florida, a skilled surgeon, treated Darius’ injuries, which looked worse than they were. Still, he would carry some scars in memory of his ordeal.
“I am still in shock that we succeeded. You are truly an extraordinary person Master Clark,” said Darius.
“I had a lot of help, and don’t call me Master. You are my equal in many ways, so please call me Al.”
Darius lie on a stretcher looking up. “I call you Master as a sign of respect, and cannot feel comfortable referring to you otherwise. Please allow me this courtesy.”
Al thought,
Who am I to fight tradition?
In that first meeting with the subjects trapped inside the outpost, he told them little more than there was to be another meeting the following day, and they were to make residence in town until then. Al canceled work on the castle. Tomorrow would be a day of rest.
The research outpost inside Vision Peak was emptied and the doors locked to respond only to Al’s badge. The exhausted victors went to Darius’ house to rest and recover.
The next evening they returned to the sacred chamber, and Al stood before the clear teleporter to tell the people of Thera the real purpose of the temple, and what he knew of its history. He informed them there would be a security protocol established, and access would be limited, but all would be free to become involved with the exploration and use of the station’s facilities. It turned out that many of the townspeople were sympathetic to the cause and openly happy the king’s rule was over. Al’s reception was surprisingly favorable.
He used some of the captain’s tricks to provide information and leave the details fuzzy. Many years had gone into forming their current beliefs, and too much change, too fast, could cause more harm than good.
In the end, he asked for permission to relocate four hundred and fifty-two colonists, plus maybe twenty natives from Avalon to Thera.
“We will eventually be settling on the far side of the island,” he told them, “But we will need your help in the process. If anyone can give us temporary lodging, it will help immensely. In the meantime, we hope to assist in adapting the devices and machines inside the mountain to help everyone.”
The town was about to transform drastically, with a great many ready for a change and hopeful their lives would be improved. A little tentatively, they agreed to the new conditions.
The next few days blurred in Al’s memory. There was so much to do. Darius was settled in his house to recover, with Timothy there to help. Tiro changed all the instructions and digital indicators throughout the facility to the English language, as he had done at Overlook. There would be no need for scholars to interpret the wonders buried within the ancient writings.