Olympus

Terms of Use Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy Rating: PG to PG-13 Length: 280+ pages, 1" margins, 12 font Times New Roman, about 110,000 words. This novel is distributed with the permission of the author, Ana Varza. This is an original text of an unpublished novel, distributed for your enjoyment. As an author, being read is primary and financial gain is secondary. If you read this and enjoy or would like to make objective but truthful comments, please e-mail the author at [email protected]. Your input is greatly appreciated, and if this goes well, look for more books to follow. This is not a "sloppy" job or first draft and has undergone editorial review. In case of a missed error, please direct it to the e-mail above. This document is copyrighted by the author, Ana Varza, as of this file creation on July 18, 2008, and protected under Creative Commons http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/. Every edit and every portion of this document as a work in progress has been saved and can be proven as the author's property/creation in a court of law. Distribution does not require the author's permission, but please give credit where credit is due and leave this legal disclaimer and all portions of the document intact. Thank you for taking the time to download this. Happy reading! Ana Varza Author

OLYMPUS by Ana Varza Chapter 1

Stationmaster Hilliard sat in front of a series of small monitors, sliding his chair to pause in front of each one. His bearded chin brushed against his chest, catching the top button of his crimson Alliance-issued uniform. He took a deep breath and leaned on his elbow. Ensign Hooper moved behind the chair, keeping pace with his superior. They talked in hushed voices, trying to keep their concerns out of earshot of the anthropological team. The observation station only had five decks, this deck the official observation wing of the station by about three-quarters with the rest devoted to military and station functions. Hooper’s eyes glanced over to the anthropological team. To his delight, all team members, overwhelmingly female, sat glued to their own main viewscreen. "Ooh, there he is! We’ve got him, Dr. Reynolds!" Anna cried out. "Wonderful." Dr. Xanthe Reynolds leapt out of her chair, eagerly hedging in with her compatriots. "Is the party everything Prince Kleitos billed it to be?" "Jugglers, flame eaters, dancers dressed in sparkling chitons, and the best culinary delights," Penelope informed the head of the anthropological team assigned to study the planet far below. "Kallias seems to just be wandering around aimlessly." "Let us see our good prince, yes?" Xanthe reached over to the display, where a burgundyhaired man stood talking to the captain of the palace guard, the always-helmeted Zerro. She cut Zerro out of the picture when she enlarged Kallias’ image. All but Xanthe sighed heavily. Prince Kallias was a pet project, a way to divert the

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attention of a dedicated but tired group. A few days more marked the passage of a full year in study of the planet, which the locals dubbed "Olympus." Kallias made a very handsome pastime, a man built solid with sculpted features, doe-like eyes and a casual, ready smile. Hilliard shrugged and pushed away from his series of consoles and computers. "I just do not know what to make of it." Hooper, more aware of the group of oglers in front of the viewscreen, grew cheeky. "Hey, that’s called voyeurism." Penelope chuckled and put her finger over her lips. "Hush. He’s moving towards the group of women!" "For the last year, this poor guy doesn’t even have a clue that there is a bevy of hormonefueled women watching him from up here." Hooper chuckled. Every girl had a chair except for Dr. Reynolds, who always preferred to stand, probably to keep above the others’ heads. "Oh, it’s Melissa! Go on, Kallias. Talk to her!" another cried out. "No, he’s walking past her," Penelope lamented. "She would be such a good match." Xanthe rubbed her chin. "Her father leads the opposition party. King Anicetus would never let such a union happen." Most agreed with nods or murmurs. "Oh, yuck. He’s talking to Amarante again." Anna’s right lip drew up in a sneer. "She’s so self-centered." "But, her father is a major philanthropist for the city’s statues and beautification projects," Xanthe pointed out. "That is a match of which even Anicetus would approve." Sure enough, Kallias took the pink-haired Amarante by the arm and led her away from the huge portico and toward the gardens. Xanthe looked away, her heart heavy. Soon, all this would be over. She turned around to find a new station chief standing next to Hooper and Hilliard. Her eyebrows rose. "I don’t understand this," she said. "Who is he?" she asked of Hilliard. "He’s here to get Thruster One more reliable," Hilliard explained. "What good will that do? In two weeks, we’ll be ordered to leave this place." Xanthe massaged her forehead, which she did frequently as of late. "They need the station in good working order for whenever they tow it out of here," Hilliard explained, taking acute stock of the anthropologist’s defeated face. "I take it you heard more bad news." "Yes. My appeal was rejected. Olympus is of no strategic importance and grows resource poor, given its small size. Besides, if we try to make contact, we might violate their beliefs and cause trouble." She straightened her very blonde bun. The new chief looked a little puzzled. "What exactly are you all doing out here?" "Spying on the locals," Hooper kidded. "In a nutshell, about a year-and-a-half ago, an exploration crew, looking for another resource planet for the Alliance, found Olympus." She tugged the new chief gently by the shirt sleeve and helped him look down on the planet out the porthole window. "What they found was nothing short of astounding." A faint smile worked its way across her lips. "The inhabitants of this planet are human." "Human?"

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"Yes, human. Plucked by an unknown race and carried here, we believe in the time of what we call the dark ages of Greece, about 900 to 800 B.C. They are Greek, to put a fine point on it. Very Greek. Apparently, the unknown race found Greek life to be so interesting that they colonized them here, gave them everything they knew at the time--no tomatoes, for example--and left them here. I theorize they conducted a social experiment to see how Greeks would evolve without outside interferences." "Oh." The chief took another look outside and then glimpsed at the viewscreen, which still showed Kallias and Amarante conversing quietly. "It’s amazing," Xanthe continued. "Like their cousins, sects congregated to each form their own polis. Until now, no one was sure that the polis concept came around until later, but apparently, the seeds of such were sown." "Polis?" "City-states, like that of Athens or Sparta. Of course, over time, they merged by war or prosperity. A few city-states remain, but most of the largest continent is controlled by this man." Xanthe led her new friend over to another console, programmed Anicetus’ dimensions and quickly found the monarch drinking wine on the portico, flanked by personal guards and the Athenian elite. "This is Anicetus, their Basilias--king--the tyrant." "He’s that bad?" "Oh, tyrant did not take on an ominous connotation until later. So far, he has ruled benevolently, even if his forefathers did not. Unfortunately, he has some difficulties, and I’m not too sure I trust him to sort things diplomatically." "Oh?" Xanthe tapped the screen until the continent of Helios came into view. "Some of the citystates absorbed by Anicetus’ forebears want their independence. Their ideals, especially their view of religion, fuel this need. Their beliefs no longer reflect those of Anicetus, a devout propagator of the pantheon of Greek gods." "They still worship the gods?" "Most do. If they do not, their opinions are quelled. The current school of thought by the nonbelievers is to move as far away as Athens as possible." Her graceful finger traced the coastlines on Helios’ eastern and western shores. "They are scientists, mostly, wanting to lift the restrictions on violating the heavens." Hooper broke in. "By violating the heavens, Dr. Reynolds means that these people behave a certain way. They believe that nothing or anyone should violate the heavens, where they believe the gods to roam. That means no mountain climbing, no airplanes, no telescopes, no satellites--nothing." "Most houses are constructed with a story above ground and the rest carved out of the earth below. The trains actually go through mountains instead of over," Xanthe continued. "There is an imaginary line drawn as to how far people can build upward. Those who occupy the hilly areas have a little more flexibility, but they still build their homes into the hillside. Only those of great importance dare to build much above the ground." "That’s amazing." The chief still looked interested, but Hilliard’s head jerked suddenly back to his collection of screens and he grunted. Ensign Hooper sighed. If Hilliard wanted to keep their new problem under wraps,

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Hilliard just failed. Xanthe picked up on it right away. With an extended finger, she excused herself from the new chief and stood next to Hilliard, who sat with his gaze locked on the screen. "What is it?" Xanthe asked gently, glimpsing over to her associates, who still surveyed Anicetus’ grand party. "We don’t know," Hilliard stage whispered. He pointed to a distortion on his screen. "It almost looks like I spilled grease on the screen and can’t completely wipe it off." The distortion moved around and Xanthe watched it carefully. "There’s nothing to accompany this anomaly," Hooper chimed in. "There are no fluctuations in any of our readings. It just looks like a smudge." Xanthe stroked her narrow chin and lowered her voice. "I always wondered if the race that brought the Olympians here still takes interest in their project." "My bet is on the Zoaters. They’ve been developing cloaking devices," Hilliard said. "They have a longstanding treaty with the Alliance," Xanthe answered. "Even outside the Alliance, they really prove no threat, do they?" "No. They may just be experimenting their new toys on a small target, though, trying to see if we can see them." Hilliard switched off all but one of the displays. "Don’t you worry, Dr. Reynolds. I’ll keep a close eye on things. You may not want to tell the others, though." "Agreed." Xanthe patted his shoulder twice, followed by a caring squeeze. As a nonmilitary authority on ancient Greece, she flirted with familiarity of the station’s commander. "Keep me updated." "Where are you off to?" Hilliard wondered. "Bed, I guess. I’ve already compiled all the data. What we do now is basically make memories of our stay here." Her weak smile fooled no one. She loved her precious Olympus and all knew it. Not even the allure of Kallias, Anicetus’ youngest and unmarried son, changed her dour mood. "Good night, everyone." Habitually, Xanthe dragged her hand against the curved walls of the circular, ring-on-ring station. She took the lift one story down, where the apartment doors sat at regular intervals. After putting her hand against the lock to open it, the door parted. She went directly to her berth and plopped down with her elbows on her knees and her back rounded. Her preoccupation for the planet overwhelmed her tired colleagues, who had families and liked to take vacations on friendly planets with a real atmosphere. Offered many vacations over her one-year stay, Xanthe always turned them down, afraid to miss anything on Olympus. Sadly, she resigned herself to the fact that it was time to go, to return to Earth and become an authority on the new ancient Greece, getting university speaking circuits and imparting her knowledge. She thought about her home on Earth, the same place she grew up, cluttered with books and relics of ancient Greece. Her father’s enthusiasm for the same swept her away during her childhood and there was never any doubt of Xanthe’s ambition to walk in her father’s stead. She missed him. Although the Alliance provided excellent protection for its allied planets, her father decided to take a chance and vacation on a non-Alliance world, where he was promptly abducted, vanishing with no leads. Xanthe’s mother died in a hovercar accident in Xanthe’s teens, and that left her with nobody. Her mother’s family left Earth many years before and her father claimed his family was highly dysfunctional and wanted Xanthe to have nothing to do with them. Xanthe’s own failed marriage also contributed to her wont to dive into projects to occupy her

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time and keep her less lonely. And it was all ending. She took a deep breath and stretched. Her last appeal sat on the desk, and she looked at it, scrolling through her carefully chosen wording. She tried so hard not to make it sound like begging, but Donna Hurford oversaw the project. Xanthe wondered if anyone else besides The Heifer saw the appeal. They had a history; Hurford chose her son over common decency, and punished Xanthe for tarnishing his image. She never even asked for contact, just a simple transfer of her person to the surface to get more intricate details on a few things, like the ancient mausoleums whose history could only be found in libraries and not on the planetary database. After brushing out her waist-length hair and braiding it, she put on her comfort clothes-an old pair of jean shorts and a well-worn T-shirt--and went to the women’s community bathroom to wash up and brush her teeth. # Most of the station awoke when Thruster One blew again. The chief had his first real test, fixing the thruster to keep them in a proper orbit. He coordinated with Hilliard, who awoke to guide the newcomer through the process from the diagnostics control on the modest-sized observation deck. As Hilliard walked the chief through the motions, another smudge appeared on screen. His brown eyes narrowed and watched the smudge float across the screen and grow bigger. Hot blood pumped through his veins as he realized the smudge's course intersected with the station. The station shook as if a collector picked up a precious vase and held it out for display. Hilliard sounded the alarms, effectively setting up martial law on the station, and hit the right touch sequences to unlock the weapon caches. Before he reached the weapons on the observation deck, a blinding flash of light stopped him as he ran into a soft wall of brightness. Something projected from the cloud to his forehead. Painlessly surprised, he buckled at the knees and fell forward, out cold. # Xanthe awoke to confusion. From her room, she saw lights flicker on and off again, and feared a widespread electrical malfunction. Following protocol for civilians, she tried to reach the lift to take her to the escape shuttle docked on the bottom of the concentric rings of the station. She beat the lift commands several times, but the door refused to open. Frantically, she looked around for her stationmates, none of whom she could see or hear. Eerie. Definitely eerie. No screams. No yells. No sounds, other than the blare of warning sirens. She expected noise from circuits blowing and she still saw the blinding lights in the corridor. Almost back to her room, she saw a body lying in front of next to the north lift. Sprinting, she recognized Anna all sprawled out. Frantically, she checked for a pulse and found one, healthy and strong. She held a hand in front of Anna’s nostrils and she breathed just fine. With a groan, she rolled her over, looking for signs of injury, but found nothing irregular. Just as she rolled Anna back down, an orb of light floated down the corridor, straight for her. Entranced but terrified, she watched the scintillating cloud form hands that reached out for her. With a scream, she turned and raced down the hall, seeing, from over her shoulder, the hand

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growing longer and longer, keeping up with her. At last, the hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back toward itself, surprisingly gentle and soothing. When the hand turned her to face the cloud, lips and other features blended together to mirror her own image. Her fear diminishing, she reached out to touch it, just as its other hand reached up to touch her forehead. Instantly, she lost consciousness.

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Chapter 2 Blinding whiteness awoke Xanthe. She shaded her eyes and her elbow touched something smooth and cold. She reached forward and found herself behind a pane of glass. Frantically, she checked her surroundings. With barely room to move, she discovered the dimensions of the device very disturbingly akin to a coffin with a clear cover, like she had seen in a movie about the ancient myth of Snow White. She screamed and clawed so furiously she barely realized her hair and dress were different than before her encounter with the cloud being. The jeweled beading, sapphires, on her new dress jangled whenever she struggled and her loose hair caught beneath her shoulders as she writhed, all the while wincing from the abundance of light beyond the coffin-like pod. The light abated, soon replaced with clear blue. Little clouds passed her by as she descended through the atmosphere. She looked down, recognizing a continent on Olympus, the main continent of Helios. The further she descended, the closer she came to the capitol city of Athens, while birds flew past her. It hit her. She was about to make first contact whether the Alliance sanctioned it or not. Soundlessly, the pod floated down from the atmosphere, just slow enough to catch the attention of multitudes below, who gathered and pointed as the pod turned. The pod seemed meant to attract a crowd, hovering steadily and taking an indirect course over the open-air markets and parks, making its final turn to carry Xanthe over what they called "Temple Row," ten temples, five on each side of a festive lane. At the last two temples, the lane turned into a festival square before joining the outer bastions and walls of Anicetus’ castle. It was here that the pod finally came to rest, right in front of the main gate. Xanthe wanted to panic, but the lingering effect of the cloud being’s touch still enveloped her. She remembered everything vividly, but it was muted by the effect of their drug. Still, she pressed anxiously against the clear pane in front of her, beginning to wonder if she would ever get out, just as the main gates opened. Kallias. She saw him clearly, stepping along side by side with his father, Anicetus, surrounded by an entourage of guards, the elusive Zerro included, announced by the long bluedyed horsetail shooting out of the top of his helmet. Anicetus’ gaudy ring-wearing fingers traced the outside of the pod. He found a switch and pressed. The crowd jumped as the pod opened from the bottom up with a loud whoosh and a spray of steam, leaving Xanthe with one easy step down to the ground. "We have been expecting you," Anicetus disclosed.

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Xanthe shuddered. A year's study of their dialect still left hers lacking. "Me?" she sputtered. "You knew about this? What do the cloud beings want from me?" "Say nothing. You look weary." When Anicetus took her hand, she shuddered. She remembered playing in a box of nightcrawlers once as a child, and his touch felt no different. Something worked behind those cold, disturbing brown eyes. Fighting the urge to wobble, she leaned on Anicetus’ arm, pinning part of his long black locks between her shoulder and his. Her sapphire-jeweled dress clung heavily to her. She passed the sentries posted atop the outer wall of the castle, a disappointed sigh escaping her as she saw the steps, about twenty of them, leading up to the front doors of the palace. She looked down at her feet. "Look up," Anicetus insisted. "I will guide you." He pointed the way with his scepter. She felt another entity on her other side. Kallias slipped up next to her as she picked up her skirts and found the next step. "You were right, Father. Alcibiades was right. They did send the gift." "Hush," Anicetus uttered. "Hold your tongue." Kallias, just past 30, looked taken aback with the reprimand. Of course, he knew to hold his tongue in front of the guards when imparting anything of importance. The stairs took an eternity. Xanthe’s chest heaved with expenditure and at the portico, Kallias caught her other arm in his and both father and son helped Xanthe into the palace. As the immense double doors closed behind her, Xanthe lost her strength and fell onto her hands and knees, the dress billowing out underneath her. "Her trip has fatigued her," she heard Kallias say, just as strong arms wrapped around her and picked her up. "Where should we go?" "I did not know what kind of gift I would receive," Anicetus grumbled out of earshot of his entourage. He looked reluctant, but finally settled on something. "Your wing has the most guards. Let us take her there." Kallias nodded. For being so tall, Xanthe was fairly thin, so he carried her easily, the most difficult aspect keeping his foot from entangling in the long hem of her dress. "Kallias?" she warbled softly. "Sh," Anicetus requested. "You know my name?" She nodded. Perfume, an important commodity in ancient Greece, took on its own life in this place. Each person was expected to have his or her own personal scent. Although difficult to discern the origins of Kallias’ scent, it carried strongly but soothingly to her nostrils. Her eyes lulled closed and then jerked open again as Kallias swung her sideways to fit her into the elevator with ease. The bright lights of the elevator hurt her eyes but she smiled--elevator music played as the carriage took her down to the lower levels of the palace, built underneath the massive complex. Kallias saw her smile and returned it. "What do you find so funny?" "The music--it is the same as the elevators I know." Anicetus growled, although no one else was in the elevator. Zerro stayed at the top floor,

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contacting a relay system of guards ready to meet them when they made it to the lower levels. "Do not encourage her to speak, Kallias," Anicetus growled. "I want her kept quiet. She speaks with the old tongue of our forebears at the inception of the planet, the language of the most learned." Kallias nodded, shifting Xanthe in his arms. The slight motion caused her head to spin and she instinctively clutched his shirt. "I will not drop you," he promised. Kallias liked to work out regularly, once a week taking time to run the entire perimeter of Athen’s grand palace of the king. His arms never even gave an inkling of fatigue. If the girls back at the station saw this-The station. Her hand flew up to her forehead as she tried to find coherency in her thought patterns. She remembered Anna lying flat on the floor, presumably coming in contact with the same beings who cornered her in the same hallway. If she was okay, perhaps that meant the others were okay, too. She hoped so. Making contact with her station was her first priority. "Are there others here? From the sky?" "There are more of you?" Anicetus queried. "I do not know." She dug around at her chest, making Kallias eye her warily. She groaned when she found nothing--the cloud beings removed her dog tags, her link to the station above, in transit. Now, they could only find her if she were in a place where her dimensions were plugged into a computer, out in plain view of the station’s cameras. Looking at Anicetus, though, she felt her freedoms terminating, especially when they rounded a corner into the catacombs below the main floors. Little facts combined over the year of study of Olympus made her wary of Anicetus. Kallias, in charge of the military, frequently shifted troops under Anicetus’ edict around the coastal towns, the ones farthest from the reaches of Athens, where the unbelievers, or "heretics," congregated. Anicetus fervently dedicated himself to his pantheon of gods. Although he had yet to outright threaten, his constant maneuvering of his defenses sent a keen message to his dissenters. So, he expected her. What did that mean? Kallias entered a room with a bed and lay her gently on the pillows. A maid scurried in and shooed Kallias back, where she plumped the pillows under Xanthe’s weary head and removed her sapphire-colored slippers. Curious fingers traced the sapphires on her silver gown, but the maid quickly covered her with a large throw. "I have questions, and you will answer them," Anicetus dictated. "Father, she does not look so well. Perhaps when she is rested--" "I must know what kind of gift, exactly, Athena has sent us. She said the gift would unify the world. No more heretical interference." Anicetus stroked his pointed chin where the goatee actually accentuated it. "I was hoping for a fearsome weapon, not some girl. Look at her hands." He picked one up and turned it over, showing Kallias the distinct lack of calluses. "What are you, exactly?" He dropped the hand, which met the bed without any interference from Xanthe. "My name is Xanthe Reynolds," she said taking breaths in between words. "I am an authority on Ancient Greece." "Greece? The land mentioned by our ancestors?"

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"The very same. Only...I come from another planet. The ancient land of which you speak started on my world. The cloud beings brought you here and gave you your own planet." "Father, there are records, ones previously scoffed at by scholars that I have read, that echo such. They are very, very old and the parchment is in fragments. It is very hard to get all the facts." "Hm." Anicetus paced along Xanthe’s bedside. "You speak of cloud beings. Tell me more." "I know little. On my station--" "Station? What station?" Anicetus interjected. Xanthe squeezed and opened her eyes, trying to keep tempo with Anicetus’s demands. "I am anthropinos, like you. We are from the same planet. When we traveled through the universe, we stumbled across your planet and started to study you. You represent an experiment by what I call the cloud beings to take you out of my Greece and place you here, to see how your society would evolve without outside influences." "The pyramids," Kallias breathed. She never knew this side of Kallias, the warrior lord, who oversaw his father’s forces. "Yes. Pyramids. They are on my planet. The cloud beings wanted to see how you would develop." "So what of this ‘station?’" Anicetus persisted. "It orbits the planet," Xanthe explained. "We have cameras that are so precise that we can see a flower petal drop to the ground. We watch you and observe." "You violate the heavens?" Anicetus asked. "Your cloud beings travel the universe. Why should we be any different?" "Because they are gods." Anicetus stopped and placed his hands on the bed parallel to Xanthe. "We dare not roam where they roam." He stood suddenly and the bed jerked back up, sending a wave of haze through Xanthe’s brain. "Tell me more of these cloud beings." "I was on my station. An opalescent cloud caught me as I ran, pulled me to it and touched my forehead. I knew nothing else until I descended through the atmosphere down to you." It required more and more effort for Xanthe to speak. Her chest heaved at the end of each spoken thought. "Father, she needs rest," Kallias pointed out. Anicetus acknowledged the servant, who stood patiently in the corner. "Demetria, seek out Therapon. Tell him to bring the chips." "Father, I do not think this is necessary--not yet," Kallias entreated. "I will not have a heretic abduct her for his own purpose. She must be tracked." Beyond tired, Xanthe had trouble keeping up with their dialect. Like many cultures, the humans on Olympus spoke each with their own vernacular, which often strayed from the Greek root words. The analyzer on the station sorted it out easily enough and she easily made sense of it all when working, but her situation now changed. Anicetus and Kallias talked in low tones, giving Xanthe the opportunity to close her eyes and let the drugs of the cloud beings lull her into a relaxed state between asleep and awake. A question came to mind, and she cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but please tell me about the cloud beings and how they relate to your world."

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"Our priests say the gods appear from a sparkling cloud and take form of anthropoi," Kallias responded. "They make contact here?" "Only with a chosen few. Alcibiades claims that Athena visits him regularly. It was he who told us of the pending gift from the gods," Kallias answered. "Oh." "You must not speak of this to anyone, do you hear me?" Anicetus leaned over her bed with an unspoken threat present in his cold eyes. "You are not to speak unless we are in complete privacy. Kallias, you make it very clear to Demetria that she is trusted with this secret. Break it, and she will be punished." Kallias nodded his head, just as Demetria led Therapon through the door. Demetria pushed a medical hovercart covered with a white cloth tented over the devices underneath. Therapon’s old eyes widened. "She is as lovely as the rumors say," he decided, drawing near the bed for a better look. "She looks ill." "She has not yet rested from her journey," Kallias explained. "She must do so, and quickly," the doctor suggested. "Not until she has the chip implanted." Anicetus waved his arm. "Do it." Therapon uncovered his wares, a little box with a tiny chip. He fit the chip into the tip of a pistol-looking apparatus. "Prince Kallias, pick her up." "Are you sure this is necessary?" Kallias helped Xanthe to sit up, pushing aside the hair from the nape of her neck. "She is housed in a fortress." "Yes, but control. I must have control," Anicetus insisted. Xanthe saw the misgiving in Kallias’ eyes as he held her forward. His grip intensified to keep her motionless as Therapon pointed the device at Xanthe’s nape and pulled the trigger. Searing pain shot down Xanthe’s spine. She overpowered Kallias’ firm hold on her as her limbs exploded outward in agony. With a cry, she collapsed back into the pillows, the pain gone as fast as it came. Anicetus ignored Kallias’ dark look as Kallias wiped her hair out of her sudden burst of perspiration. Xanthe barely felt him console her. The chip insertion left her a shell. Movement even proved difficult, except for her eyes and chest, wide and heaving respectively. "This will pass," Therapon claimed, nudging Kallias out of the way. He waved a diagnostic wand over the area of her neck. "The chip is in perfect position, my king." "Excellent." He pointed to Demetria. "You are a man’s nurse. Can you handle a woman?" "Yes, Basilias." "I mean hair, clothes, makeup--everything," Anicetus furthered. "I can and will," she vowed. "Fail and you will be ejected not only from her service but Kallias’ as well." Anicetus looked at his captive again. "Rest while I plot your life, Heavenly One," he said frigidly. Xanthe still lay motionless, even when Kallias returned to her side. Anicetus watched the pair. He liked what he saw. "Therapon, how long before she is ready?"

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"Change her out of that dress. It is beautiful but restrictive," he said, indicating the tight bodice. "Her body is showing signs of sluggishness." He held up his scanner and wand. "May I ask who she is and how she came to us?" "She was sent by the gods, Athena in particular. She will unite the world." Xanthe listened to her future being planned. "I have no word from your gods. I have no idea what I am doing here. I was taken from my station and sent here! I do not even know if the cloud beings speak!" "Then your life is mine to plan," Anicetus depicted. "We will present you to the people and all will love you, and the heretics will have to admit you are sent from the heavens. We have too many witnesses for them to refute it." He smiled wickedly. Therapon seemed impressed. "They gave her something to sedate her, something very powerful. The chip sped up her circulatory system for just a brief moment. She will need at least two days, maybe more." "I do not have two days," Anicetus spat. "The world watched her descend and the world will demand to see her. She is holy enough that the gods allowed her to drift through the heavens!" He tugged at his goatee. "I will be going. I must inform my other two sons of our good fortune. Perhaps Kallikrates has some ideas about how to present her." "Tell them the truth," Kallias suggested. "She is from our sister planet, obviously sent to educate us." "Pah! You are as useless as your brother Kleitos. This must be carefully planned. The world is coming to my door under her guidance. Presentation, my son, presentation. I want them to make statues of her to sell at the markets. Good fortune, this." Anicetus took one last glance at Xanthe, whose hand remained limply in Kallias’. "You need to make arrangements to strengthen palace security." "It is done, Father." Kallias let Xanthe’s hand go. "Demetria, find a chiton or something and call a clothier. She cannot wear that." Satisfied, Anicetus left. Therapon gathered his tools and covered them again, this time pushing his own instruments down the passages to the infirmary. "Can you speak?" Kallias touched her face. "Yes." "Do you absolutely hate us?" She took a disappointingly long time to answer. "I do not know." Her eyes closed and, despite abject fear, she snoozed until Demetria arrived with a chiton borrowed from Kallias. Kallias left to oversee restructuring of his guards while Demetria struggled with a nearly helpless Xanthe to put her in something more comfortable. Several times, Demetria noticed Xanthe staring at her with begging eyes, as if a lowly servant in the house of Anicetus could help her. The maid’s countenance sagged every time their eyes met. "Did I just meet Hades?" Xanthe panted. "Of a sort, Miss." She clasped the chiton at Xanthe’s hip and at her shoulder. "Of a sort."

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Chapter 3 "What just happened?" Hilliard groused, pushing shakily off the floor. His station looked just the way he left it some ten hours ago, with weapon racks open and ready for battle. Squinting his eyes, he listened for Thruster One, which made no sounds at all. Summarily, he summoned all personnel to the observation deck for a head count. They appeared one by one, all sleepy but unharmed. As they filed in, he encouraged them to join him by the console. "Same story for everyone?" he inquired. "Cloud of light, touch to the forehead and boom?" "Sir," Anna said as she stepped forward. "Dr. Reynolds is missing." The crowd on the deck all looked each other over. "Anyone else?" Murmurs of "no" went around the room. "Did anyone check the shuttle?" Anna answered him. "Sir, we tried to follow civilian protocol but none of us made it to the shuttle. My cloud being touched me just after I touched the lift button, which wasn't functioning." "Perhaps they missed her and she is still in her room." Just to be safe, Hilliard stuffed a zapper in its holster and shouldered a pulse rifle. "Hooper, you’re with me. Everyone else, stay put." Hooper grabbed some weapons as well. The lift now functioned perfectly and they took it to deck two. "They were so gentle," Hooper murmured. "I felt no fear when they touched me." "It was strange," Hilliard agreed. They now stood in front of Xanthe’s quarters. Hilliard used his handprint to override the lock on Xanthe’s door. They did not find her. Hooper’s face grew grim. "Where would she go?" "I don’t know. Let’s go back up and check the video feeds, if they worked during the encounter." Less than two minutes later, Hooper and Hilliard sat in front of the screen. Nobody left yet, so all witnessed as the cloud being engulfed Xanthe Reynolds in a warm embrace, gazed at her with Xanthe’s own face and put her under their sleeping spell. The cloud creature nestled Xanthe on its back as it carried her down the hall and toward the joining port, where presumably

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their invisible ship waited to take her aboard. "Commander, you may want to take a look at this." Hooper held up a data crystal. "Did you leave this here?" "No." "It’s sitting right next to the mainframe input. Should we have a look?" "By all means, Hooper. Give it a go." The computer clicked. "Timestamp 2300 hours 15 minutes and 36 seconds," it relayed, and then flickered an image. No one recognized the ship. It unfurled slowly, coming out of its cloaking device. Like a dove in flight, it hung in the heavens long enough to show Xanthe, now in an cylindrical pod and still asleep, jettisoned toward the atmosphere of Olympus. The recording ended. No one said anything. Hilliard immediately ran another scan, looking for smudges on the screen, and found none. The commander leaned his weary head on his forearm. "You all are dismissed. Get some rest." They quietly filed out, going back to their nighttime wonts. Hilliard sat for a moment before opening a channel. "Alliance's Department of Space Expansion Division of Exploration of New Worlds. Get me a real person and none of that automated shit." # Kallias came by frequently to check on Xanthe, finding her in the same position, recumbent, with the blanket clutched tightly in her fists. He read fear in the lines of her forehead and felt guilty. As well he should, he reckoned. He rubbed the back of his neck in sympathy. She matched the white sheets on which she rested. Demetria found his staring inappropriate, told him so, and pushed him out of the room. As Kallias’ principal maid, she coordinated the wing’s function in hushed tones from a communication panel, with particular interest on making sure Kallias got fed. Her clothing and hair reflected her perfectionist’s nature, nary a wrinkle in her crisp shirt or apron with wide pockets. The beginnings of gray teased her hairline, but that was a badge of wisdom. Women of her stature did nothing to color their hair, unlike the affluent or young, who changed hair color on a whim. While she studied Xanthe, she cautiously inspected the roots of Xanthe’s hair, checking for tell-tale signs of bleaching. Blondes were somewhat of a rarity, often duplicated. Convinced of Xanthe’s legitimacy, Demetria left her to rest. Hours passed. Demetria cowered as Anicetus paid another visit, grateful that he did not wake her up for more interrogation, content to assess her with his dark eyes, all the while tapping his scepter against his palm. Demetria hated the familiar look on his face, cold and calculating, this time envisioning what the poor girl could do for him to solidify Helios, nay, the entire world, under his control. # Demetria decided Xanthe needed no more sleep and pushed a tray of food to the bedside. She pulled the sheets out of Xanthe’s fists, encouraging her to sit up. Xanthe did as requested, eyeing the maid warily, deciding if she were friend or enemy. Demetria crooned to her lovingly, though, smoothing her hair behind her shoulders to keep it from dragging in the plate of food she soon held over Xanthe’s lap to hand feed her. Typical Greek fare soon found its way on the

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spoon, mullet as the main course. Surprised at her hunger, Xanthe rubbed her forehead. "How long have I slept?" "Six hours. I put an end to it to ensure you are fed." Demetria waited for Xanthe to take a bite of mullet. "Eat and I shall leave you alone." "I wish to go outside," Xanthe said. "In your condition?" Demetria smiled as she shook her head. "Are you always so pale?" "I am very fair and have had no sun exposure for a long time." Xanthe’s eyes pooled with tears. "I want to go home." "You were not sent willingly?" Demetria put the spoon in the beans. "No, I was not asked. I have no idea what I am doing here. I was abducted." "So they do exist," Demetria murmured, realizing what slipped from her lips, which she quickly covered with her hand. "You do not believe?" Demetria thought about her next words, but said them anyway. "Around here, the gods manage to do exactly what Anicetus wants. It appears a little one-sided, you see." "I do." Xanthe pushed away the next spoonful. "You are too thin," Demetria insisted. "You must eat." Xanthe knew Olympians preferred their women a little more, well, Rubenesque, and Xanthe had fairly straight lines but a decent chest projection. In fact, a little spilled out the side of her chiton, so she adjusted it quickly. "Are you up to finding some suitable clothes?" Demetria gave up on holding the spoon to Xanthe’s uninterested lips. "I will take your measurements, give them to the clothier and he will bring some pre-made clothes." Demetria rose and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her apron. "He will hold them out for you and you will nod ‘yes’ or shake your head ‘no’. Very simple and not very taxing." Xanthe wanted her clothes on the station. As if her wish made it past her mind, a brilliant flash erupted behind Demetria. The maid shrieked so loud that the soldiers posted outside Xanthe’s door burst into the room. Xanthe whirled around until her legs dangled off the side of the bed, watching her belongings materialize on the floor of her suite. The light evanesced. Weakly, Xanthe got up and wandered over to the highly organized pile. The guards, stunned by the matter transportation, held back at the door, muttering oaths that confirmed Xanthe’s designation as god-sent. Xanthe touched a stack and opened her jewelry box. The cloud beings sent everything from her station, even some things that were technically the project’s property, but were properly backed up in the station mainframe to prevent loss of data. She opened the chest and took out a T-shirt and shorts. She held them to her chest as she turned to look at the tremulous trio at the door. Tears ran down her face as she wiped her eyes with her shirt. Whatever her purpose on this world, she knew one thing. The cloud beings intended her to stay, and for good. # Kallias chastised the guards. Immediately after the appearance of Xanthe’s belongings, word spread of such a thing as clothes and furniture materializing out of thin air. After checking on the claim himself and eyeing Xanthe’s outlandish taste in clothes (blue jeans and a T-shirt with some foreign words on it), he tried to contact his father about damage control. While

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Kallias tried to locate his father, Anicetus came into his office, overtly pleased. "Is it true?" he asked, bounding closer to Kallias’ desk. "Her things just appeared?" "Yes, and despite my best efforts, the rumors are circulating out of my control. Demetria held her tongue, but Zerro’s elite did not." "Let them speak!" Anicetus rounded the desk and took his son by the shoulders. "Do nothing to dissuade them. We have witnesses to a remarkable event, do you understand? Our gods conjure things out of nothing!" "It is more specific than that," Kallias informed him. "They are her things, things she had up on her station. Basically, they have moved her in on my wing." "Let her stay there, then." Anicetus sprang down the hallway with Kallias on his heels. "I must see what foreign items look like." Xanthe jumped as the door flew open and Anicetus slipped in, looking at her briefly in lieu of the pile of perceived riches now scattered on Xanthe’s floor. He looked over his shoulder to see her standing there in simple clothes with her flat stomach showing just a bit under her Tshirt, exposing a sapphire in her navel. His fingers roamed freely over Xanthe’s items, until he reached for one drawer and Demetria jealously guarded it. "Ah. A drawer for unmentionables," Anicetus gleaned, and skipped to the last drawer. He pulled it open and pulled out a box of pastels. "You are an artist?" "I sketch a bit." Kallias, as curious as his father but more polite, gestured at a box of scrolls, waiting for Xanthe’s approval before he dug into them. Xanthe nodded, regretting the decision made in a cloudy mind. She kept her artwork neatly in rolls. By the time she strode over to set limits on the pictures Kallias could view, he found it. "This is me," he said incredulously. His head tilted to the right as he found himself, burgundy hair sweeping around his bare shoulders with a sword raised, taking a lunge at an invisible foe. Highly stylized, it emphasized his eyes and musculature. Xanthe turned ten shades of red and more so when Anicetus saw the picture as well. "How long, exactly, have you been watching us?" the king demanded. "A year our time, so about nine-and-a-half months, your time." Xanthe took the scroll back in tremulous fingers. "Ah, it’s Zerro." Anicetus opened it and set it aside. "Where is mine?" Xanthe stuttered. She had one, but it depicted a rather noble ruler, not the evil creature that inflicted pain on her. Still, she wandered to the pile and found his, holding the scroll out to him. Anicetus glimpsed between her and the scroll as he slowly unrolled it. "Kallikrates and Kleitos are there, as well," Xanthe admitted. "So, you know us well," Kallias remarked. "I approve," Anicetus said, taking in his portrait, counting the rings on his fingers and scepter by his side, lounging comfortably in the middle of the festival square in his throne during the last festival. "You have talent." Xanthe swallowed, for Kallias stared at her and she had trouble placing the look in his eyes. Maybe "exposure" fit best; he slipped up next to her. "As your technology is much better than hours, exactly what do you know?" he asked.

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"The dynamics of the other city-states off the continent of Helios have far less stories to tell than a tyranny. We liked to watch your parties and celebrations. We think Kleitos has impeccable taste and think Kallikrates has the prettiest, sweetest wife one could ask for." She turned back to her artwork. "She’s in here too, somewhere." Kallias caught her firmly--gently, but firm nonetheless--by the elbow. "Can you tap into our Gnosi Diktyo?" "Yes, of course. We did so routinely. Nothing marks the arrival of a world with an information highway like the Knowledge Network." "How far did you go?" he pressed further. "Oh!" Xanthe gleaned the message of his prying. "Public files only. Official edicts. Things that are public, common knowledge. It is unethical to go as far as you insinuate." Kallias let her go, still holding his portrait in his free hand. "Have you ever seen me use a sword?" "Once. It was a party and Kleitos encouraged you and another nobleman to spar for entertainment." She nudged the picture. "I drew this soon after. Swordplay is a lost art in the world of laser weapons. I found it fascinating." Her answers seemed to satisfy him. Anicetus stood back and absorbed it all. "Xanthe, dear, we must speak." She nodded her head respectfully, hopefully dodging any more pain. "I will be your kyrios." Her head jerked up sharply. "I have never had a kyrios. My father let me live my own life. It is not a custom to which I am used." "Like it or not, I am your guardian." He looked kindly, but always his eyes seemed supercharged with ideas, some detrimental. "Am I to assume you have never been married?" "I was married." "You look so young," Anicetus said, tilting his head. "How old are you?" "Thirty-two." "Incredible. You look like you just came of age." When Kallias agreed with a quick nod, he continued. "Did the gods take you away from your husband?" "No, he did that on his own," she grumbled. "He left you?" Kallias appreciated her beauty and her revelation stumped him. "She was redheaded and very vivacious and curvaceous." Xanthe shrugged. "I tend to bury myself in work. He felt neglected, I suppose." "Ah." Anicetus tucked his scepter under his arm and steepled his hands by his chin. "You, my dear, are full of information." Xanthe swayed, still close to Kallias, who dropped his picture to catch her by the shoulders. "You need more rest." Looping her arm through his, he escorted her back to the bed. "Father, we should go." "Not yet. We need to discern if she has any heretic items and discard them." Anicetus renewed his search. Kallias sighed out of his earshot. He picked Xanthe up and placed her on the bed, taking longer than necessary to meet her eyes with a look of profound apology. She understood and patted his hand. Still, she made a mental inventory of belongings. All things objectionable to the

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king were part of station property and certainly not able to fit in her eight-meter by eight-meter apartment on the Columbus. "You have exquisite taste in jewelry," Kallias commented. "You like sapphires." "Yes." "Just like the dress in which the gods sent you," he pointed out. In that simple phrase, she felt exposed, just like Kallias when he found out how much study she devoted to him. How long had the cloud beings watched her? # "So that’s it?" Prefect Applegate folded his arms across his chest. The video was choppy and there were some delays in the message relays from their position far out in space. "They took her and sent her down to the planet? Why?" "I’ve been thinking, sir," Hilliard said, correcting himself. "We’ve been thinking. The aliens we encountered are most likely the beings that brought these Greeks here in the first place. I’ve got Dr. Reynold’s people on it right now. So far, the only thing we’ve come up with is that a pretty lady descended in a cylinder directly in front of the palace in Athens. She hasn’t been seen since. She’s in the palace right now, but we can’t get a lock on her. The cloud beings must have taken her dog tags and we can’t link up to her. We know that she is in the lower levels of the palace. Had we been awake when the pod landed, it might have been a different story but, as you can see, we were a bit indisposed." "Amazing." Applegate leaned on his elbows. "Well, Dr. Reynolds got what she wanted. She wanted to walk amongst them and she’s getting her opportunity." He chuckled. "I fail to see the humor in this," Hilliard protested. "Her opinion of Anicetus wasn’t very high. I fear for her." "Well, for now, Hilliard, sit this one out. Have the anthropological team analyze and keep track of her movements. Keep trying to get a lock on her and transport her out. In the meantime, I’ll meet with the council and see what they have to say." Applegate looked thoughtful. "I know how much she means to the team," he assured Hilliard. "She’s very well respected. We need to find the perfect approach. I’ll speak with Commander Donna Hurford in the morning." Hilliard swallowed. Heifer Hurford? This conversation took a turn for the worse. "Prefect, with all due respect, Commander Hurford is not exactly a fan of Dr. Reynolds." "I’m well aware of that. As head of the First Contact Division, though, she is technically my superior in this matter. I will have to defer to her expertise." Hilliard realized he gripped the corner of the console until his knuckles turned white. "Just keep me posted, Sir." "That I will. If that’s the end of it, I think I’ll go back to bed." Applegate stood, adjusting his robe. "Good night, Hilliard." "Good night, Sir." The screen blacked out. Nearly the entire population of the space station hung around, eavesdropping by invitation to the conversation. All heard the name of Hurford and their faces fell. #

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Unfortunately, Xanthe’s clothes did not meet Anicetus’ scrutiny. He warned her about dictating fashions, and found her clothes outrageous. Xanthe had no use for dresses on the station, so she brought none along. Slacks were quickly vetoed by Anicetus, but he did not throw them out, so she retained her precious comfort clothes, something she clung to in this volatile world she now inhabited. At her first quiet moment, she found a journal and started writing, scientifically chronicling her first day on Olympus, forsaking her normal caricatures in the margins. Her head swam, but she had to find a way to get this book and herself back to the station. Demetria came in and took her measurements, urging her to rest. Apparently, Anicetus wanted the dressmaker there quite early the next morning with her presentable by afternoon. Demetria went to call her measurements to the dressmaker, who would select garments based on that, expediting the process. Xanthe hated her handwriting. Years of reliance upon computers sapped her fingers of a flourished, uniform script, an art her mother insisted during her life, but Xanthe disregarded after death. With one last line, she dated it and put, simply, "to be continued..."

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Chapter 4 Demetria woke Xanthe early. With no windows to orient her, she relied on the clock, grudgingly doing as the maid requested. Not in a mood to search her surroundings previously, she found herself in an actual suite, consisting of a parlor through one door and a small dining room in the next. In the corner of her bedroom, a door opened into an indoor, individual-sized pool, steaming, waiting for her to get in. She stripped as Demetria looked in the corner, and went down the steps, finding that the water came up to her shoulders. Upon looking up, she saw a dangling shower nozzle, easily pulled to spray any part of her body she wished. Demetria pushed her skirts through her legs and stuck them in her waistband. She sat on the side of the pool, sprayer ready to tend to Xanthe’s long locks. Xanthe sighed under the perfect length of Demetria’s nails while they scrubbed her head. The maid made a mental note that Xanthe liked someone toying with her hair and gave her a little extra scrubbing since it made her so happy. One bright spot in a dark world carried great weight. Demetria presented her a fresh pair of her coveted jeans and another T-shirt. After dressing, Demetria guided Xanthe to a helmet-shaped object attached to the wall. She brushed out Xanthe’s locks and positioned her underneath the helmet and flipped the switch. Heated air rushed out of the device, scattering Xanthe’s hair, which Demetria quickly caught and tamed with the hairbrush. Xanthe liked this room very much. Feeling a little safer, she opened the door and found Kallias standing amongst the still-unmoved stacks of her belongings, particularly interested in her books. "What do these say?" he asked without pleasantries. "Some of it I recognize. Is it a dictionary?" "It was a gift from my father," she said, taking the book back. "It was my first GreekEnglish dictionary. I no longer need it, but I keep it for sentimental value." She cradled it against her chest. She fished through another chest-of-drawers, pulling out a picture frame. "This is my father. He is no longer with me." Kallias studied it intensely, his brow wrinkling. "It is like I know him. I cannot explain such, but he looks very familiar." "You will not find him in me," Xanthe said. "I look remarkably like my mother." She pulled out another photo. "See?" Kallias held the picture next to her face. "I, too, received my mother’s looks." "In all my research, my prince, I have never found any record of her. Does she dictate seclusion?"

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"She dictates nothing." Kallias sighed deeply. "It hurt Father too badly to gaze upon her images, and even our Knowledge Network has no access to those. We believe she was assassinated when I was but a child." "My apologies. This is a tender subject and I have no right to it." Xanthe backpedaled to her drawers and put her photos back. "Again, I apologize." "It is all right." He mustered a weak smile when Demetria walked in, pushing another cart of food toward the dining room. "Are you better today?" "Better, but not whole. Prince Kallias, I must make contact with my station. They have to know I am all right and try to get me out of here." "Out? Why?" "I do not belong here," she insisted. "Your father is intent on using me to change the dynamics of an entire world! I cannot be privy to such. As a representative of my Alliance, it is expressly prohibited to put myself in that position." Kallias weighed her words. "The gods took you from your station for a purpose. They are beings of great power. Do you have the technology to move objects through the air?" "Yes, we do. We call it matter transfer. I can step through a portal and go home. Please, take me outside. I can make contact with them if they can see me." "You do not want to stay with us?" He stepped toward the box of rolled portraits. "I do not understand. You study us for so long and, now, you are here among us and you do not wish to stay?" "I do not belong here," she repeated. "I could start a world war!" "Not if my father plays this correctly. Look, Xanthe, at the base of the heretic problem is that they no longer believe in our gods. Now, they have to come back to the fold." "I want no part in it! Where I come from, it is perfectly acceptable to fashion instruments of such to study the heavens more closely. Do you even know that there are twelve planets in your solar system? Do you even know what a solar system is?" Kallias’ eyes widened and he put a hand over her lips. "Yes, I know," he whispered, his brown eyes darting around nervously. "You are in contact with the heretics?" she assumed. The muscles at the angle of his jaws bulged. "Sh." He took her hands and clasped them by his chest. "I strongly believe in my gods," he explained, "but the heretics do not ask for much. They just want more knowledge and I welcome their advancements." He let her hands go. "I want you to stay. You are in a position to ask for such things to become part of our society. The gods have not punished you for your ways. You are a messenger--a vision of what our world could be." "Your gods are punishing me! They put me in the hands of a madman, no offense, who has inflicted more pain upon me in one day than I have had in a lifetime. Never, never, have I felt pain like that, Sir. If I can expect more of the same, I will figure out a way to get out of here myself." Demetria watched the conversation quietly. At its natural breaking point, she cleared her throat. "Breakfast?" Xanthe kept at it while Demetria served them. "He hurt me once. Will he do so again?" Kallias put his spoon down and Demetria stopped with the tray halfway in the air.

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"He will, will he not?" Xanthe stood. "I am an object to him. He cares nothing for me, but what I can do for him. Once he is through with me, I will be discarded and useless." "You are not useless," Kallias said, studying the wood grain of the dining table. "I will protect you." "My Lord, I am certain you mean well, but I find no comfort in your words." Kallias picked over his meal, hating the stony silence that ensued. Demetria left the room to welcome the dressmaker and Kallias rose to leave, avoiding eye contact as he did so. "I have a life, my prince. A life. How would you like it if we had opened a portal and pulled you through it, making you part of what I know?" She kept her words gentle, although she wanted to scream. "Abducted. How bad does that sound?" His answer floored her. "I welcome change--any change," he said, sadness coating his words. He got up when she did, reaching across the table to touch her lips and remind her to stay quiet in the presence of the dressmaker. # Women gained many rights over the years on Olympus, but they still largely remained at home, tending the household. A man who needed help supporting his household by sending his wife out for a career lessened him in Olympian eyes. Unmarried women occupied high-ranking jobs, and many kept working after marriage, not caring about the position in which it left their husbands. However, this dressmaker was male, and Demetria set up a privacy screen for Xanthe to use. Kallias fingered the dresses on the racks. He held one up. "I like this one," he voted. "Yes, my prince." Demetria took the silver dress, noting its plunging neckline and grinned. Kallias cringed inwardly when he found Xanthe standing there with arms akimbo, glaring at him, not for the dress, but for his unwillingness to help her. His jaw clamped down and he looked away, turning slowly toward the door. He hesitated as he left, his chin almost breaking the plane of his shoulder but not quite. Eyeing the floor, he departed. Xanthe hated shopping. She hated trying on clothes. If it did not flatter the mannequin, she passed it by. At home on Earth, she had a closet full of clothes bought directly from the rack that did not quite fit, Xanthe intending on returning them but never doing so. Given the same, she grudgingly stepped behind the screen, where she spent an agonizing two hours. Xanthe’s penchant for blue caused Demetria to plead for her to try more flamboyant colors, but Xanthe, actually having a say in her wardrobe, vetoed them. With some misgiving, she realized she actually liked Kallias’ choice with deep cowl neck that almost exposed her navel ring. Xanthe nearly shoved the dressmaker out the door, helping him push his racks into the hallway. The guards tittered after she disappeared back into her apartment, finding it interesting that a woman of such elevated status, the bridge between gods and man, would help such a lowly creature as a dressmaker. Demetria scolded her for it, always with a gentle reminder to keep her mouth closed. "Take a few minutes," Demetria told Xanthe. "I must check on Kallias." Xanthe gladly flopped face down on the bed. Little tears squeezed out, but she doggedly picked up her journal and chronicled her new findings and current situation. She included the

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pleasant pool encounter; some things got missed when studying an overview of a planet. Like she argued in her last appeal, many things went unlearned. Rereading her interaction with Anicetus, she groaned. If she touched her neck just right, she could reproduce a phantom sensation that made her toes tingle. Getting up slowly, she stuck the diary in the bottom drawer along with her art supplies and went to another chest, digging through until she found her music ear pods. She picked up the remote and dialed her selections, finding the hardest, angriest music available. The little buds came to life and she selected a row of 10 songs. She put the remote back and gingerly put her neck to a pillow and closed her eyes. About halfway into the first song, someone tugged gently at her bare toe. She shouted and flew out of bed, only to find Kallias standing there. With one hand over her heart, she removed the plugs and rolled them in her palm. "Do you knock?" she growled. "Three times." Kallias stood there with a crooked grin, holding his hand out cautiously. "May I?" Xanthe plunked the music plugs in his hand. She forgot how much volume she liked and Kallias’ eyes nearly crossed from the immediate flow of loud, back-beating music. His eyes widened but he left them in. "The sound quality is excellent," he said, unintentionally talking over the music. He nodded along with a few beats. "I like this music. It makes my heart beat fast." "I have a music collection spanning a millennium back home on Earth. I brought my favorites with me." Xanthe wanted them back and he gave them to her. "I have put some thought to what you said earlier." Kallias folded his arms. "I will help you get out of here, on one condition." "Which is?" "You take me with you. All my life, I wondered if we should be so arrogant to assume in a vast universe that we were the only ones. Are the other planets anthropoi, as well?" "There are 14 known races, not human but races all their own." Kallias sat hard on her bed. "Do we all look the same?" "No. My favorite species have blue skin and fine antennae that glow in the dark. They are called the Azomites. They have a special plant on their world that they must consume in order to survive, but it makes them bioluminescent, like fireflies." "Ah." Kallias’ chin dimpled. "I want to see them." "Even if it defies your father’s edict and breeches the heavens?" "Yes," he said after a pause. "But you are in command of the military. What happens when you leave?" "Zerro will take over." "But he is only captain of palace defenses." "He is a childhood friend. He knows what I do." "I do not know what my people would say about this, Prince Kallias." "Drop the formality, Xanthe. Even my father recognizes, although he would never admit it, that you are above us." Kallias nodded his head respectfully. "Does it make you feel special, at all, to know that our gods selected you for such a noble purpose?" "It pisses me off."

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"Pardon?" "It angers me. They had no right to violate my life. How would you feel, Kallias, if we decided we needed a specimen from your planet and abducted any one of your numerous servants? They would feel as I do, helpless and alone." Xanthe brushed a tear away. "I want to go home." "I will help you get there. I cannot promise immediate results, but I am prepared to leave this place, but I want you to help me acclimate to the new environment. I ask that you do not pass me off on anyone else." "I agree to it. The portal will open and I will drag you along with me to my station. I have to be in the gardens, though. Right now, they have plugged my precise dimensions into the computer and if I walk out into the open, I will be seen." "And they will open the portal and we will go through?" "Yes. We need to find a place in relative seclusion where they will feel comfortable opening the portal." "That may take some doing." Kallias thought hard. "The place where you take Amarante might be a good place." Kallias blinked. "Amarante?" He stood up. "You have watched us?" Xanthe’s pale face instantly flushed pink. "Yes. I apologize." "Why?" "We were voting for Melissa," she admitted. "Melissa is too good to subject to my family." Kallias ran his hand through his straight long locks. "She had my vote, too. I have to do what father dictates. You will, too. Xanthe, please; just play along. Remember, it is only temporary." Demetria entered with lunch, surprised to see Kallias so willing to pull away from his work. "Will you be joining us, too?" "Yes, I think I will. Do you have enough?" "I brought enough for Zerro." "Ah, then you have plenty." "I brought much so she would eat much. She reminds me of a fence post," she remarked as she pushed it toward the dining room. Kallias held his arm out gallantly, waiting for Xanthe to go first. Xanthe said little when Kallias mentioned that she was to meet his two brothers before being presented to the assembled nobility of the monarchy. He laughed when he claimed Kleitos fretted; he had not the time to plan something grand, but promised a lavish party some time in the near future to welcome her properly. Xanthe always enjoyed learning about Kleitos, the gentle middle prince in charge of charities and entertainment. The time came and Kallias left for a short time while Demetria fussed over her hair. Demetria unwrapped brand new hair accessories, some made of fine gold or even platinum. She selected the silver-toned items, intent on her desire for Xanthe to dress in the silver dress of Kallias’ choosing. "I was the maid selected to tend to Kallias in his infancy," she chit-chatted. "Now I have you, too. It is a pleasant diversion." After making a part from ear to ear, she sectioned the hair and twisted each strand until they stood in tight little knobs, each wrapped in its own band of

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silver. The rest Demetria left loose, using a thick iron to add some body. It looked nice, but Xanthe forgot her manners while agonizing about her presentation. Still fatigued, she wondered about her ability to last before collapsing. With a pounding heart and damp palms, she donned the silver dress, adjusting the cowl to hide as much as possible. The dress fit tight around the upper arms and her hips, flaring out into a full skirt and full sleeves. Before makeup, Demetria rubbed sparkling oil on every exposed skin surface, ensuring her mistress shone in any light. Anicetus came by just about the time Demetria finished, pacing behind the dressing table for close inspection. "Yes, I think this will do nicely," he murmured. "Quite nicely." Demetria displayed no signs of pleasure at his approval. She merely nodded and helped Xanthe to stand, fishing out the only pair of shoes Xanthe had, the ones given to her by the god beings. "I must call the cobbler," Demetria said. "I will put your things away while you are gone." "Hold off on that," Anicetus directed. "This room is only temporary. I do not like this location. It sits too close to the offices, where people come and go all day. Zerro has a good security system, but I never underestimate the will of a heretic who desires to lay his hands on the girl." Xanthe wondered how much better she might fair in the hands of a heretic. "We have already received feedback from the opposition council. They are in shock. They must acknowledge what they have seen, but are not happy to the changes they will have to make in their depraved lifestyles." Anicetus tucked the scepter under his arms and rubbed his hand greedily. "You, my love, are making me very happy." He sat his hand on her shoulder. Instincts flared and she pulled away from him, jumping out of her chair to put a great distance between them. He growled. "You will learn to respect me." He looked fondly at his scepter. "I give you a chance to come along willingly." His eyes narrowed. "Let me show you what I can do." "My Lord, no!" Demetria beseeched, attaching herself to his hem. "Speak!" Anicetus ordered. Xanthe thought of what she wanted to say, something cutting and biting. The words rose in her throat but nothing happened. She coughed a soundless cough and a hot tear threatened to ruin her mascara. Her voice was gone. Anicetus chuckled. "Just a gentle reminder for you to keep your mouth closed. You impart wisdom of the gods, but only when they allow you to speak, you see, my Handmaiden." Xanthe’s head shot up. Handmaiden? "Oh yes. I forgot to tell you that you were sent to us from the gods, where you functioned as their handmaiden. You speak only when pertinent, for who deserves to know all the intricate secrets of our gods’ lives?" Anicetus covered his heart and mocked her, bowing just to irritate her. "Be happy. You do not have to cater to us like a servant. I must allow you to act as if you are above us all. When we leave this room, I will carry your arm as your humblest of the humble." Xanthe wanted to scream. Unable to even tense her vocal cords, a whisper failed to

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escape. Her eyes begged Anicetus to reverse the process. He merely laughed at her, and his chuckles lasted when Kallias let himself into the suite. "I took her voice," he cackled. "Father, she is here among men!" Kallias rushed over to Xanthe and put his arm around her slight shoulders. "If Zerro’s guards fail, and someone gets through, who will hear her scream?" "If Zerro’s guards fail, we will re-institute corporal punishment," Anicetus threatened. "Besides, we will move her soon enough and I want you to select Spartan women." Spartans no longer had their own polis, absorbed over the centuries as a certain class of people who voluntary dedicated their sons or daughters to the Spartan ways. To be called a Spartan came with respect from all walks of life, royalty included. "Do you have someone in mind?" Anicetus pressed his son. "Mysia, most certainly." Kallias rubbed a long-gone bruise on his forearm, received from the same woman of whom he spoke. "Perhaps Persephone." "You make certain of their aptitude." Kallias let go of Xanthe, noting that her shoulders quivered with rage. He faced her, rubbing her biceps, trying to calm her down. "Come. It is time to meet the royal family." Anicetus held his hand out at arm’s length, waiting for Xanthe’s compliance by placing her hand over his. Kallias nudged her. "Please," he whispered. She took two grudging steps forward and raised her arm, touching Anicetus’ hand. "That look of disgust on your face--get rid of it," he demanded. "I do not care if you smile, but you will look dedicated to your task, Heavenly One." Xanthe unclenched her jaw as Kallias opened the door and she walked into a waiting group of ten guards, Zerro included. Suddenly, Anicetus stopped and thought. "Kallias, you walk her down. I will follow." Confused, Kallias held up his arm, grateful for the small softening in Xanthe’s face as she took his arm. Her wide sleeve waggled and she held her skirts in her opposite hand. "Look up," Anicetus reminded her gently, now in presence of witnesses. Xanthe was lost by the second turn. Still underground, Zerro used his communicator to set up guards on the top level and himself got in the elevator, holding the doors open and slipping in last. "You forgot jewelry," Anicetus noted. "It is a mistake you will not make again." Xanthe sighed and nodded. "That foolish nurse of yours needs an education in women," Anicetus shot at Kallias. Zerro stood quietly. Xanthe tried to study him out of the corner of her eye, but the nose guard darkened his face, leaving his mouth as his most prominent feature. She saw it smile often enough, back home on the station. His picture was not even available on the Knowledge Network. Apparently, Zerro liked his privacy. The girls on the station had a running bet. One half claimed Zerro hid good looks; the other half bet that he hid ugly scars. In any case, the thought was fleeting, for the doors opened up to the main floor and a new entourage accompanied them to Anicetus’ chambers. Supported by ornate columns, the ballroom of the palace sprawled out before her.

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Chandeliers dripped glass droplets that sparkled in the light. Where high society gathered during the more inclement weather, Kleitos’ touch was everywhere, now decorated in honor of the upcoming Olympics. Statues for all the events stood strategically placed with fresh laurels on their heads. Before they reached it, though, Anicetus took a turn to take a small hallway to another wing, his wing. Gold embellished everything here. He favored pictures of himself, life sized and pompous, a benevolent ruler leading his masses. One even showed a depiction of Athena smiling down on the leader of her patron town. Only in the antechamber, they took another hallway and went to Anicetus’ private parlor. She recognized them all. Kallikrates looked very much like his father and displayed many of his father’s mannerisms, but the cameras back at the station never registered the hard look in his eyes, just like his father’s. Now in seclusion, his tiny wife stood well away from him, her hands clasped in front and her eyes downcast. When Xanthe entered the room, she looked up hopefully, but Xanthe could not tell for which she hoped. Kleitos put his little dog down on the floor and glided over to them. At least the camera upheld her assumptions for the middle prince; he radiated charm and good will. "Welcome!" He kissed both Xanthe’s cheeks and held her hands. "This present was most superbly wrapped." Nodding in respect, he knelt gallantly. Xanthe wanted to request he stand, but her voice failed. Instead, she tapped on his shoulders and pointed upward. By that time, Kallikrates finished ogling her and came up to her, circling her and inspecting her much like his father had done. He kept his hair dyed crimson, and it at least matched his wife’s. Xanthe felt the depths of his stare and shuddered. "We are pained, Father, that Kallias received exposure to her first," Kallikrates said. "It is rather unfair, given that I am your heir apparent." "What was I supposed to do? You were in session in the great halls and Kallias was alerted to her presence straight away, given his occupation. Kleitos, are you angry?" "Oh, no." Kleitos took two steps back. "I felt it appropriate." "Good." He motioned to his daughter-in-law. "Phaedra, come bid your mistress hello." Phaedra walked tenuously toward Xanthe, and Xanthe saw a hint of jealousy in response to the way her husband looked Xanthe over from head to toe. "Welcome, Handmaiden." She curtseyed. Xanthe waved politely, unsure of herself. She towered over the petite woman always viewed with great fondness back on the station. Now alone with her, Phaedra seemed trapped, and perhaps she was. Her kyrios, her uncle, arranged a marriage with the crown prince through his prominent role on the council and distant relation to the royal family. All Helios anxiously awaited offspring from them, but, so far, four years of marriage yielded nothing, but no mention was ever made of either prospective parent’s inability to reproduce. Xanthe perceived that, given Kallikrate’s roving eye, perhaps the two shared separate rooms. Phaedra took it all in quietly, once again looking at Xanthe, sad and scared. Kallikrates lacked nothing in looks, nor did his father. Kleitos, a phenotypical cross between Kallias and Kallikrates, shone like a god, getting the best features from both parents. Still, her inclination stuck with Kallias, whose poster decorated many eligible women’s rooms

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and rightly so. "You are too quiet, my children," Anicetus glowered. "She could speak to us," Kallikrates replied. "I find it a bit rude." "I have taken her ability to speak." Anicetus tapped her vocal cords. "She will be a mouthpiece for the gods with my permission." Kallikrates laughed. "This is the stroke of luck we have been waiting for." "Quite so." Kleitos stepped forward and stepped back again. Finally, he decided he really did want to say something, so he tried it again. "I do not approve of such. Look at her. The gods sent her to us. Already, anything she says is the gods’ bidding. You may anger them." "Alcibiades has approved of everything I have done so far." Anicetus stared down the bravery of his son. "You know your place. No more meddling." His nostrils flared, but Kleitos retreated and nodded. Kallias put himself between Kallikrates and Xanthe, cutting off any more of his brother’s goggling. "Shall we go?" "Is security appropriately arranged?" Anicetus inquired. "Yes," Kallias said. "You take her arm again, Kallias." He turned around. "Are the rest of you coming?" "Yes, of course." Kallikrates, who should have extended an arm for his wife, deferred it until they went back to the ballroom, where servants lined up and provided an audience. Phaedra put on a brilliant smile, nodding to the servants in passing. That was the look Xanthe came to expect from the future queen, all sparkle and energy. "Look ahead," Anicetus directed. Xanthe tried to keep her bearings. She knew Kallias led her to a well-guarded garage, where a hover limousine waited to carry them to the great halls of the council. Anicetus hummed happily all the way there, wiping a smudge off his limo with his sleeve. The chauffeur opened the door and Xanthe got in, her dress sticking to the plush seat as she tried to scoot over. Fortunately, Kallias put his large frame next to her, but Kallikrates eagerly entered and sat directly across from her. Phaedra’s face lost its charm, only kindled by Kleitos sitting next to her and taking her hand fondly in his, a true gesture of brotherly devotion and certainly nothing more. Kleitos, after all, had his share of male admirers. Anicetus, the last one in, sat next to Kallias. Xanthe dug around her seat, which prompted a strange look from Kallias. "What are you looking for?" Xanthe mimicked a belt to go across her middle. "I am not sure what you mean, but I do not think you will find what you seek here," Kallias said, confused. Xanthe’s face turned red and she put her back against the seat and crossed her legs. Her cheeks continued to burn as Kallikrates took definite interest in her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kallias’ jaw clench; apparently, he took note of the same. Anicetus still hummed, his life brilliantly according to plan. Xanthe passed the time by looking out the tinted windows as the limo maneuvered out of the garage and waited for one army vehicle to pull out first, only to be joined by a second one as a tail and armed guards on

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hover discs flanking them. The shaded lane let in strips of sunlight as the convoy moved to the back gate. The outer wall of solid marble swung open, taking the guards at its wide top with them. "I did some public relations," Kleitos mentioned, pointing outside to the throng of people throwing flowers at the convoy. "Very well." Anicetus briefly glanced outside. "Keep doing it. We must have the people adore her." "Yes, Father." Kleitos, quiet once more, nestled against his seat. The council building stood two blocks away from the main gate. When the limousine pulled up to the one-story building, she saw Zerro there with his men in a tight formation leading from the stopped car all the way down the walkway, two deep, one row facing inward and the other facing outward. A quiet crowd, they waited with their cameras ready nonetheless, all waiting to catch their first glimpse of the Handmaiden. Zerro himself opened the car door and extended his hand for Xanthe’s. A little thrill coursed through her; she liked his firm touch. Once she got out, Zerro bowed at the waist and the sea of people came to life. Kallias jumped out and took her by the arm, leading her quickly inside. Xanthe, curious, looked back at the crowd to get a head count. Amazed at their calm, but loud, nature, she nearly walked into the open door but Kallias guided her safely out of the way. More guards blocked the viewing of the ancillary staff of the great halls, many of whom held their cameras up in the air to get their pictures. Finally, the guards opened gilded double doors, which led to an auditorium. On ground level, the main floor opened up into a scooped-out stadium below it. The seats formed a deep semicircle around the main platform. Xanthe caught excited glances from the assembly, who rose from their seats to welcome her. They took a caged elevator to the stage below. Anicetus walked out first, into a warm welcome of cheers from most of the crowd. Xanthe noted keenly the polite claps of a few, guessing them to be delegates from the coastal towns with heretic leanings. Their forlorn faces belied their predicaments. Kallias led Xanthe next to the podium, where all could view her. Anicetus adjusted the microphone and started to speak. "Gentlemen of the assembly, I have brought you Athena’s gift." Xanthe watched the man transform from arrogant ruler to a servant of the people. He even changed the strange intensity of his eyes. All waited quietly for him to speak. "She says little; her voice is a mouthpiece for our gods. Does anyone dispute my claim?" The opposition stood all together, looking at each other apprehensively. One cleared his throat and built resolve. He clenched the seat’s back in front of him. "Xenon, have you something to say?" Anicetus asked gently. "We cannot dispute that she came from above," Xenon said. "Has she denounced our ways as wrong?" "There really has not been time for it," Anicetus admitted. "She has barely spoken, only to give us a name." "Which is?" "Xanthe. She also indicated that I am to be her kyrios." Anicetus put a hand over his

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heart, faking gratitude at his wonderful fortune. He looked meaningfully at Kallias. "As we all know, Kallias is a confirmed bachelor, but no more." Xanthe’s throat constricted. She just waited for his next words. "Their wedding will take place as soon as my beloved Kleitos can prepare." Xanthe’s knees started to tremble and the full cowl over her chest quivered. Kallias seemed locked in place, as well. "Well, at least look happy about it," Anicetus said, and the assembly laughed. "It was his birthday last week. I always said a girl would have to drop from the sky right into Kallias’ arms in order for him to get married. In a way, that has happened." He chortled kindly. "Kallias?" He turned stiffly to face his father. Glancing between Xanthe and Anicetus, he finally mumbled, "Thank you." Composing himself quickly, he dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of her dress. "I assume the Handmaiden has no objections or the gods would have given her a voice by now," Anicetus informed the assembly. "Dear, have you anything to say?" Cold and indifferent, Xanthe shook her head, keeping her trembling hands behind her, clasped. With Kallias still attached to her hem, she looked down at him. Their eyes met and mirrored each other’s bewilderment. Fortunately, Kallias had years of forced theatrical performances behind him. He recovered quickly, rising slowly and taking both her hands in his clammy ones. Hers, similarly tepid, did squeeze back. He put her forehead to hers and the assembly began to applaud. "Act happy," he advised her, sliding cheek to cheek to reach her ear. "Just pretend. Please." His words tickled her ear. She put on a lopsided smile and leaned into him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pumped his fist in the air. "Well, unless there are more pressing matters, we are through here. Of course, you are all invited to the nuptials. With Kleitos to plan, I am certain wonders will abound!" Anicetus stepped back from the podium and waited for the soldiers to fall in from the periphery of the stage. Xanthe’s stomach rolled and rolled and the elevator made it no better, especially in light of Anicetus’ own personal scent. Kallias knew the look on her face and spoke gently to her all the way back to the limousine. Concentrating so hard on her upset stomach, the cowl neck spread a little, giving Kallikrates more of what he wanted to see as they rode back to the palace. "Wait until we are home to get sick," Kallias pleaded, smoothing her hair. "Yes, the message it would send would be detrimental," Anicetus pointed out haughtily. "What is wrong? Is my son not good enough for you?" Xanthe, voiceless, shook her head vehemently. In reality, her complete lack of control over her life ate away at her middle. Surprises abounded in this new world of hers and she hated all of it. Her stomach churned more and she gagged, managing to hold it down as the limo parked back in the garage. Relying on Kallias to guide her through the spacious palace, she kept one hand clutched over her abdomen and the other clutching his hand, leaving fingernail impressions, but he did not flinch. Kallikrates and Phaedra left for their own wing, followed by Kleitos and Anicetus at the next hallway. "Tell Demetria to move her things in with yours," Anicetus called out as they left. The lift opened and she let Kallias get her bearings back for her before taking of in a full

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run. The guards opened the door and she flew to the bathing chambers and released in the toilet. Even her coughs made little sound. A heave or two later, she wiped her mouth with her hand and sat on her haunches, rocking with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her cries and sobs went unnoticed, or so she thought, until Kallias’ warm arms wrapped around her shoulder and under her knees. He righted her and set her on her feet. "I am sorry." He handed her a toothbrush and some brushing gel. "We have to get out of here." Xanthe nodded emphatically with the toothbrush sticking out her mouth. Satisfied that the nastiness no longer lingered in her mouth, she rinsed and spat. Kallias leaned against the jamb. "I still cannot believe he left you." "Who?" Xanthe mouthed. "Your husband." Kallias’ swarthy cheek gained a little pink. "He was stupid." Xanthe waved her hand in the air. "Are you up to a walk in the gardens?" She walked past him and grabbed her journal of her details on Olympus. She looked over her stuff, deciding on her most important possessions. Jewelry, several portraits without their frames and her cherished book from her father found their way into a simple satchel. "Anything else?" Hastily, she pulled out some underwear. She could borrow clothes from the other girls on the station until she built her own new wardrobe, but some things she preferred not to share. Kallias took stock of all the lace. She turned to him, dropping the satchel in lieu of paper and pen. Hastily, she scratched a message. "What do I want to take?" Kallias responded when he read it. "Nothing that I can think of. I would like to speak to Zerro." Xanthe nodded and they headed down the hall to Kallias’ quarters. While Xanthe wandered around, admiring the vast space of Kallias’ suite, Kallias contacted Zerro using a panel on the wall. She put her satchel on one of six couches in the parlor, counting an additional 12 wing-backed chairs. "I hold meetings in here sometimes," Kallias explained. "They are for my generals and their aides." Xanthe nodded, pointing to several portraits of his family. "They can all stay." He touched his sword, which was always at his side. "Did you enjoy watching me spar that night?" She again nodded. "Will your station be able to give your voice back?" "Maybe not there, but they can take me somewhere," she scribbled. "I just hope what my father has done is reversible by your people." "I have no doubt that it can be done," she wrote. Kallias slowly turned, taking in his surroundings. "My life is so empty," he said in a low voice. "It is so empty that I care not to take anything with me." He found Xanthe’s eyes. "I want so much to be someone else, living another life. Take me there." Xanthe agreed with a quick jerk of her head when a knock came at the door. Kallias

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opened it and found Zerro there. He pulled his friend inside. "Congratulations," Zerro said. "I did not see that coming." "Nor did I," Kallias agreed. "Look. Her people are watching for her. I am taking her to a place where she can easily be spotted. They will open a portal for her and she will be instantly transported back to her station." As the men talked, Xanthe gleaned Zerro knew every nuance of her stay. As Kallias got into the more intricate details, Zerro removed his helmet. Xanthe made a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping on the floor. Adonis had a rival. Sapphire hair amplified his sapphire eyes. His impressive lips fit well below a once- or twice-broken nose. A fine scar on his cheek jostled with every word and Xanthe realized Penelope and the handsome-leaning girls back on the station just made a hoard of money. She could not wait to tell them--or draw him. His face was not one she would soon forget. "Going with her?" Zerro inquired. "Are you crazy?" "Tired, Zerro. Tired." Kallias put both hands on Zerro’s shoulders. "I leave nothing valuable behind but you and Kleitos." "Are you telling him?" "Kleitos does not like goodbyes," Kallias deferred. "He would not understand." "Then I will have to explain it to him," Zerro growled. "You know I am uncomfortable around him." Kallias finally noticed his new bride-to-be staring the two of them down, and Xanthe deciding that Zerro won hands down in the battle of appealing men. "Xanthe, this is Zerro. I have never known life without him." Zerro extended his hand for hers. He kissed her wrist and let her go. "You will take good care of him?" "Yes," she mouthed. "Will he be welcome?" Xanthe shrugged. "He can claim asylum," she wrote. "With all my new information about the palace and its owners, I think he will be willingly accepted." "What you have seen is only the culmination," Zerro grunted. "The path Kallias walked was paved with cruelty. I want to see it end as much as he does." He touched her face lightly. "I trust you with my best friend’s life." Xanthe motioned "yes" trying to will the goose pimples from forming under his touch. Surprisingly, though, she much preferred Kallias’ scent. Zerro took one last look at her and turned to Kallias. "Good luck, my friend." He clasped Kallias in a warm embrace. "Go. Get out of here." Xanthe scribbled one last time. "Take your perfume with you." The right side of Kallias’ mouth lifted. "You like it?" he asked warily. "Yes." Xanthe, emboldened by the prospects of leaving, did not turn colors. Kallias found a hip satchel and tucked the cologne and all its matching scented lotions, soap and shaving cream into it, still smiling sheepishly as he did so. "Well, I am ready," he announced. Zerro swallowed hard, fighting a tear or two. "I will continue contact with the heretics. I, too, want to see this world develop anthropoi into what our sister world has."

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Xanthe waved goodbye and she and Kallias quickly went into the hallway. She looked for guards and Kallias seemed to read her mind. "I have full confidence in Zerro’s soldiers. The bastions surrounding the gardens are more than adequate protection." He tugged excitedly at Xanthe’s hand, nearly dragging her down the hall. They took the stairs. Xanthe still had trouble breathing and caught up to Kallias, who bounded up two stairs at a time. At the end of the stairwell, a door opened into a servant’s corridor, giving them movement behind the scenes. Maids sorted laundry before taking them down to be washed on the low level. All eyed the couple curiously. The door at the end of the hallway opened into a kitchen bigger than Xanthe ever imagined. "You hungry?" Kallias asked. She shook her head. Her stomach still reeled from earlier, now compounded with adrenaline-fueled excitement. Instead of food, she tasted freedom, and Kallias guided her through another door, which opened into a grand dining room, nearly as big as the ballroom. The tables all matched precisely; she noticed this as Kallias dodged around them. Two glass doors opened into a portico. Kallias dashed down the steps and waited for Xanthe at the bottom. With one last stair, Xanthe set foot on the outer part of Anicetus’ famed gardens.

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Chapter 5 "We’ve got her, Sir!" Jill cried out. Hilliard bolted out of his chair. "Can we open a portal yet?" "I would say no. Kallias is with her and they are walking directly toward the center of the gardens, well away from the bastion guards along the great wall that surrounds the castle. She obviously wants no witnesses." "Kallias must know what is going on," Hilliard observed. "He’s in a hurry, too. Look at them go." "I love her dress," Anna said, sighing. "It looks good on her, too." "She’s traveling light. I guess she’s leaving behind the things the cloud beings stole from her apartment here." Kallias and Xanthe reached the direct center of the gardens, where a fountain bathed naked figures of Olympus’ gods. Xanthe jumped up and down, waving to her friends above, indicating that she was ready for the portal to open. "Open the portal," Hilliard directed. Kallias gasped as a thumbnail-sized orb of light shot miniature lightning radially, coming together to form a concave opening. Xanthe grabbed Kallias by the wrist and dragged him inside, waiting for the portal to collapse. It stayed open. "She’s bringing him with her," Hilliard gleaned. "Boost the signal strength." "I’m trying," Hooper relayed. "Something is interfering with the transfer." Hilliard pushed Hooper out of his chair, repeating the same protocols as Hooper. "It’s not working." Xanthe’s enthusiasm dwindled. Something was wrong, very wrong. Her hand rubbed her neck. She felt it tingle every time she stepped deeper in the portal. In an instant, she realized the chip prevented her transfer. Unsure of what to do, she stepped out of the portal. Kallias did the same. Xanthe gave him her satchel and pushed him back toward the portal. If they could not take her, they could take Kallias, who would relay her predicament and hopefully provoke a response from the station. Kallias refused to budge. "I will not leave without you. Is it the chip?" "I think so," she said soundlessly. As a last-ditch effort, she threw the satchel inside the portal. It took it, collapsing around it back into the tiny orb from whence it came. Disappointed, she sat on a bench next to the fountain and cried. #

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"This has gone far enough," Hilliard exclaimed in his direct communique with Commander Donna Hurford. "The anthropological team discovered this morning that Xanthe is now promised in marriage to the third prince of Athens. We tried to open a portal, but all it took was a carryall with a few trinkets inside." The graying red-headed lady with the pointed face and eagle-sharp eyes tried to soften her features as she spoke to the bewildered station commander. "I have taken it to higher authorities," she drawled, drumming her fingers in the air. "She has the potential to change the dynamics of an entire world! This must be studied. This must be documented. This must be made an example of what one person can do. As we cannot get her out, let us watch it play out." "I can assemble a team. We can float from the heavens in a similar manner and request that she be given back," Hilliard disputed. "You and I both know she does not belong there." "These cloud beings--I have watched with great interest the invasion of your station. They are very well more advanced than we. We run the risk of angering them if we interfere," Hurford further demonstrated her point. "We are stuck. All we can do is watch. Now, if you’ll upload the latest data to me, I’ll take a good look at it and perhaps have more information and directions for you in the coming weeks." "Weeks?" Hilliard’s temple veins stood out. "We don’t have weeks, Ma’am. Dr. Reynolds is in great danger." "Watch and wait, Stationmaster Hilliard," Hurford ordered, not for a moment belying the stranglehold she wished to place on the annoyed station overseer. "May I remind you that you are not an anthropological expert. I will be sending out another Greek expert. He will coordinate with you and give me reports directly. Rest assured, Dr. Reynolds’ interests are my utmost concern." They are not, you pigheaded bitch, Hilliard wanted to scream. He mustered a gruff, "As you wish," and ended the transmission. # Kallias comforted her the best he knew how, but she refused to eat two meals. Demetria coordinated moving Xanthe’s remaining belongings, noticing some missing, but she said nothing. Xanthe sulked on the couch, not even interested in seeing the luxuries of Kallias’ domain. Presently, he joined her on the couch, taking her limp hand in his. "We almost made it," he said, hoping her anger did not burn at him. She allayed his fears when she patted him softly on the thigh. "Now what?" she tried to whisper. "The chip must be removed." Kallias sighed deeply and kissed her hand. "Xanthe, I must tell you that I have no idea how to go about this. Therapon’s chip may be permanent." Xanthe slumped forward with her elbows on her knees while Kallias fondly rubbed her back. She got up suddenly and found a paper and pen. Kallias looked over her shoulder as she wrote, "What do you expect of this ‘marriage?’" "Nothing," he swore. "I will not lay a finger on you...without your consent." So, he saw a future with her. Of course he did, requesting to come along with her back to the station. In a strange way, she contemplated how life might be with him. Maybe she better get used to him.

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"What about Amarante? Will you continue to see her?" "No. Amarante, I am afraid, is only good for one thing." She left the paper lie on the table. "Come, I will show you around," Kallias offered. "You must see my room. Kleitos gave it a complete overhaul." Xanthe smiled in spite of everything. Kallias opened the door and Xanthe walked into a sea of green garnished with gold. Even the vanity had gold-leaf embellishments and Xanthe could not deny Kleitos’ impeccable tastes in paintings. All the women and men in the pictures wore green, as well. Kallias stepped up to one of them and pointed to it. "Kleitos painted this." Not surprisingly, all his subjects were male, standing around a cockfighting pit. "He confuses me sometimes," Kallias mentioned. "He receives gifts of roosters from his admirers, but he refuses to train them to fight. Every morning, before breakfast, he goes out to his little coop and feeds them. Then he draws this." He scratched his chin. "Perhaps it is an artistic manifestation of the turmoil we all feel." This was definitely a side of Kallias she did not expect. "Do you like green?" She nodded. "Come." They went back into the parlor, but he took a right to another door in the back of the common room, past all the couches. Xanthe saw the impressive table through the open door. Cream-colored chairs contrasted sharply to the black table. The vases on it sat empty, waiting for Kallias to entertain. "I do not have dinner guests often, but just in case." He pointed to the planning table in the common room. "We usually just eat there, Zerro and I." Xanthe traced the tabletop. Her chin reflected perfectly in its fine finish. "You like dining sets?" She shrugged. "No guests to invite?" Xanthe thought about the fun meals back on the station, where they played air hockey with the salt and pepper shakers. She missed watching the comradery. In her position of authority, though, it was all polite and encouraging conversation from her end, and she often caught whispered words like "shy" or "timid" in reference to her. Maybe she was. Not much of a fighter, for certain, or Ricky might have stayed and not strayed. Life rolled on, and she with it. "Do you need to write your answer down?" Kallias responded to her silence. She declined. Kallias cleared his throat. "Your stomach is already well acquainted with my bathing chambers." He turned on the next wall. "This is my office. You can access the Knowledge Network from here." The room was a mess, but Xanthe went directly to the bookshelf. Down at the bottom, pechya-by-pechya heavy books attracted her attention. She saw the thin sheets of glass protecting their contents from the top. Struggling with a heavy tome, she finally got it and laid it on the L-shaped desk. After opening the book, her fingers delicately touched the glass over fragments of old scrolls from the inception of this world. The story brokenly depicted Zeus’ conquest of an ordinary woman. Smiling, she looked for the offspring’s name but found none.

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"We do not have many of those. Our ancestors were largely illiterate, but you probably knew that." Xanthe agreed, but the book captivated her. But, with a pang in her stomach, she realized Kallias made no mention of a room of her own. Judging by the size of the suite, one more room waited to be shown, so she shut the book and put it away. She relaxed as soon as Kallias said, "And this is where you will stay." Xanthe walked into a room of sheets covering all the furniture and a plastic drape over a large canopy bed. The room was blue with clouds painted on the wall. A light was strategically placed to act as a sun on its own set of tracks, mimicking the sun outside as it rose and set, and Xanthe instantly felt less hedged in from the lack of sunlight in the catacombs of the castle. "We will let Kleitos loose in here. He will fix it up any way you want it. This room has been unoccupied since my great-uncle passed on." With a gasp, she noticed her satchel from earlier in the day resting on top of her other things moved from her previous suite. Kallias saw it, too, and she dug into it. She covered her heart when she found the journal missing, but nothing else. The station knew of her troubles. Why would the cloud beings do that? # Demetria and several other servants worked furiously to clear the dust and arrange her new room. Xanthe sneezed several times, her normal a-choo gone with her vocal cords. Zerro joined them for dinner and Xanthe made herself not stare. When the servants left, Zerro spoke more freely. "I am sorry about your misfortune. She does not belong here." "What do the heretics have to say?" Kallias inquired. "All is quiet. My contacts say, though, that the telescope is near complete." Kallias put down his spoon. "Is it hidden well?" "Very. They covered it with sod this morning. They say it looks nothing more than a bump on a hill." Xanthe wondered if the primitive device would find her station. If they did, it might become public knowledge and Anicetus might have to tell the truth--she was kidnaped and not a servant of the gods. Her spirits lifted. "I wish you could tell us more of your world." Zerro took another bite of barley bread. "Do you have gold?" Xanthe shook her head. "Not anymore." "Ah, you harvested all you had. Do you explore the universe looking for more?" She nodded. "Fascinating. What is the population of your planet?" "Eight billion," she depicted after excusing herself to gather writing material. "That’s just on the planet. Another five billion plus live on colonies on other planets." "Incredible. How does your planet support all that? Do they get what they need from other worlds?" She nodded again. "Bronze-skinned people from the east," Zerro quoted an old text. "They really exist?" She drew the different races on her planet and pointed to each. Below, she sketched a

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rough map of Earth, pointing to the origin of each race. "Even on your planet, you are different?" Zerro took it all in. "Kallias told me there are 14 other races. Draw the blue people." She did so lovingly, showing them both her work. "They are born with fur," she wrote. Kallias laughed. "This is how I want our world to be," he said. "I want to be part of it all." "How do you wage war?" Zerro wanted to know. "We have not in a long time. There are pirates, though, and police forces who combat them." "Pirates in the ocean of space," Kallias envisioned. "We still have piracy in our waters, as well." She knew that and indicated such. "What do you not know about us?" Zerro wondered. Xanthe wrote one word. "Anicetus."

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Chapter 6 She found her bed quite comfortable, although it rose pretty high and she used steps to climb in. Thanks to Demetria, her cleaning crew, and a few scented candles, the room smelled lived in and warm. It was a pleasure short-lived, for Anicetus arrived in the morning before she awoke. He nearly beat the door down to get her attention. Xanthe needed not guess who stood on the other side of the door as she pulled her T-shirt down to hide her belly. "I have called Demetria. You have precisely one hour to get ready," he commanded. "I want you to sparkle." He sat in one of Kallias’ chairs and rested his scepter across his lap. "Today we visit the temples. You must pay homage to the gods who sent you to us." Xanthe’s eyes enlarged and her breaths quickened. "I see you want to speak," Anicetus noted. He pointed his scepter at her throat. "Very well. Speak." "Please, that is like asking me to demand you worship a tree!" she warbled. Kallias stumbled in sleepily, going rigid when he saw his father. "You cannot make me do this," Xanthe implored. "I do not worship these beings. If I were home, I would study them carefully and make plans for first contact. What you ask me to do is unthinkable." Anicetus said nothing. Instead, he lifted his scepter. Xanthe’s chin hit her chest, expecting to be silenced. Instead, her spinal cord began to burn. "Father, please!" Kallias called out to him, reaching for the scepter as Xanthe’s legs gave out and she fell in a heap on the floor. Her body tingled from the roots of her hair to her toenails. Flushed and out of control, she quivered on a woven runner. Hot tears squeezed out her eyes, which no longer functioned properly, leaving only gray haze for vision. Although her body had no tone, she could not describe it as pain, exactly; rather, it felt as if someone unplugged her from the socket of life. It slowly subsided. Only then did she feel Kallias’ arms around her. "That is only the beginning, my dear," she heard Anicetus say. "Now come along and be a good girl." Kallias cradled her head against his chest and rocked, scared at her lack of response. "Xanthe?" "Yes?" she finally answered. "I will take your voice back, as well," Anicetus decided.

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"Father, this is so unfair." Kallias struggled to his feet, still carrying Xanthe’s weight. "I do not care," Anicetus said simply. "I have an agenda and I must have her cooperation." Cautiously, Kallias let Xanthe slip from his arms feet first. Assured that she held her own weight, he let go completely. She wobbled a bit, but reached the first couch and plopped down, still reeling from the imposed sensory overload. Reality overtook her and she trembled. Like Pakatri war protocol, she knew Anicetus only fired a warning shot. Fear and anger mixed together, tensing her muscles. Anicetus left and she sat up, pointing her finger at Kalllias. "You knew!" she mouthed, tottering toward the table and writing equipment. "You knew he could do this to me!" She shoved the paper in his face. "I hoped he would not use it. I did not want to scare you," Kallias claimed. "It felt like a threat to tell you." "So what do you call this?" "I call it torture." He looked away. "You are the enemy!" Xanthe punctuated it so hard the pen snapped. "Xanthe, I--" "Save it." She snatched her clothes from Demetria and went to bathe by herself. All knew of Anicetus’ device, and she wanted nothing to do with any of them. Bathing quickly, she brushed her own hair under the dryer and waved Demetria off when the maid wanted to fix her hair. Kallias, too, bathed while Xanthe selected her own choice in clothing, selecting her single pair of black pumps from her own belongings. After dressing, she did her makeup and put on her jewelry. She looked like one big sapphire; her dress sparkled just like the stones. Surely the cloud beings knew of her troubles. Why did they allow it? What had she done? Kallias knocked on the door. "It is time to go." She opened the door but refused to look at him. She walked right past him and waited next to the front door. Dejected, Kallias opened the door and Zerro greeted them pleasantly, but Xanthe ignored him, as well. She barely noticed the presence of two new sentries, both women, placed outside the door. Their muscles rippled where exposed and the crests on their helmets symbolized their role as Spartans. Once Xanthe and Kallias cleared the door, the Spartans fell in behind them, hoplites of old with modern weaponry. Each kept one hand on the gun in their holsters and the other behind a heavy shield. Zerro walked beside the prince, keenly interested in Xanthe’s sour demeanor. He leaned into Kallias. "Did your father do something?" he asked. Kallias’ jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. "Yes." "Oh." Zerro resumed his part in the formation. He had to be cautious. Left handed, his sword came close to meeting Kallias’, who was right handed and wore his sword on the left hip. "Why so gloomy?" Xanthe heard Anicetus say. "Happy, happy people." He clapped his hands together. "Smiles, everyone. Smiles!" His fatherly overtones made Xanthe sick. This time, Zerro and the two female guards

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joined them in the elevator. "I said smile," Anicetus said happily, but a little buzz enveloped Xanthe’s spine. She plastered on a smile. Feeling trapped, she fought tears. "We will only visit three temples today," Anicetus announced. "I only have time for so many. Zeus, of course, will be first. Athena must be thanked profusely and Aphrodite’s temple is a definite stop." Before the elevator opened, he gave one last parting shot. "Who is your favorite, Xanthe? Oh, I forgot. You cannot tell me." Kallias felt her tense up, since he already had her by the arm. The three guards around her were the elite, well versed in Anicetus’ cruelty. Xanthe wanted to scream. Every person around her played a part in her misery. She lost respect for the whole lot of them. She lost her bearings again, but eventually the hall opened up into the grand portico of the palace. By the time she recognized the place where she collapsed on her first step into the castle, the entourage moved outside, where Kallias quickly took her by the hand, a symbolic gesture to the crowd outside of their designation to be husband and wife. Apparently, no one informed the public of their foray to the temples, for only peddlers and a few faithful loitered around festival square. Kallias’ hand felt committed; her hand was limp. Still, she smiled as the guards pushed the onlookers back, many of whom whipped out cameras. "Happy, happy, happy," Anicetus chanted in a sing-song voice from behind her. The anthropologist in Xanthe wanted to stop at each peddler kiosk. She spotted miniature statues of the gods and strips of bright cloth, claimed to be clippings from old himations, a winding drape worn by the priests, thought to brought luck to the owner. A group of priests in outlandish-colored gear waited in the lane right at the end of festival square. Xanthe tried to keep up; the square was designed to hold thousands of people during parties, the elite spilling into the castle and the commoners to temple row. Kallias squeezed her hand, trying to get her to look at him, but she refused, trying to control her labored breathing. The priest up front wore a white himation with gold embroidery and a gold sash. A golden replica of a laurel crown sat on his balding, short white hair. As Xanthe approached, she saw the priest’s eyes mirrored Anicetus’ treacherous ones. She guessed, correctly, a meeting with Alcibiades soon came. "Alcibiades," Anicetus cried out warmly, holding his arms up, scepter included. The men embraced and kissed each other’s cheeks. "I have brought her to you." He stepped back and yanked Xanthe toward the highest of priests. "She is lovely." "Ah, for certain." The priest kneeled, as did his bevy of priests and acolytes behind him. A professional group, none produced cameras, unlike the growing crowd around them. "Quickly, now. Word is out," Alcibiades cautioned, taking Xanthe firmly by the elbow. "The faithful now call their friends and relatives. Within an hour, this place will be filled." He guided her in the direction of the great temple of Zeus. For the benefit of his duped followers, he said, "It is most interesting to see how you will worship your masters, Handmaiden. A bridge between anthropoi and the gods--this is fascinating." The priests opened the gilded doors of the black marble structure with the Dorian columns. Like on temples on Earth, bas-relief decorated the exterior, exciting scenes of battles

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and chariots and temple harlots. Fortunately, Olympus progressed from such things long ago, but the temples themselves were thousands of years old, well preserved and tended. No trees grew in between the temples, as their root systems might mingle with the ancient foundations. Alcibiades all but pushed Xanthe in front of the altar, behind which stood a three-timesthe-normal size Zeus, who gazed down upon her. Unlike the others, she stood directly in front of Zeus while they kneeled and acolytes brought forward offerings of barley and fruit. The transplanted Greeks saved animal sacrifices for altars set up in the temple square during celebrations. Xanthe stood transfixed. She knew the statue’s face. A soft wind nudged the hair cascading down her back. She listened for the sounds of fans. In fact, the looked for them. As she turned around, goose bumps formed on her arms. Her entourage stood frozen. She stood in the middle of stopped time, and she was not alone. The statue started to ripple, ejecting a scintillating cloud, which materialized on the altar in the shape of a man, a man whose face Xanthe knew very well. "Daddy?" she gasped, surprised to find the chip no longer controlled her voice. "Hello." He jumped down from the altar. "I look a lot younger now, yes?" She recoiled. "What have you done to me?" "The question is: What can you do for us?" Xanthe’s hand shook. Her father appeared in pristine form, at the peak of his manhood. He looked her age, now, looking as she remembered him as a small child. "I do not understand. Tell me you still love me." "Of course I do, Angel." "Then you must know Anicetus treats me very badly." "I’m sure he does." Zeus rubbed his hands together greedily. "He has no idea what he’s up against. He has met his match in you. In you, a power will brew to take him out of his position." "This very morning, he had me on the floor twitching on the ground like an epileptic," she snarled. "I find your idea of love a little questionable. Prove to me you are my father." Zeus blinked. "I am unused to being questioned, Xanthe." "Then strike me with a thunderbolt," she challenged him. "I would prefer death to imprisonment." "You really would," he said. "I anticipated such. No; no thunderbolts today." He tilted his head and smiled at her. "Then send me back where I belong," she pleaded. Zeus tried to touch the girl he claimed was his daughter, but she turned and glided away from him. "Xanthe, I named you. Your mother and I--" "What about Mom?" she yelled. "You just let her die!" "I’m not omnipresent, Xanthe. Her death came as a shock to me, as well." "And what has Hera to say about that?" she asked snottily. "You are a philandering jerk, if ancient lore pegs you correctly. No wonder you never wanted me to meet my relatives." "Hera and I divorced thousands of years ago," he replied. "I was always true to your mother." Xanthe fumed and he clearly saw it. "Come back and see me when you cool down," he suggested, fading into a cloud as he

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spoke. "I love you, Little One. Someday, you will understand why you have to be here." He completely vaporized and cloud became part of the statue once more. She felt rage like this only once before--the time where Zed Hurford went acquitted for his attempted rape on Xanthe. Only Donna Hurford’s sound political and military ties kept the young man free. Her father’s glibness galled her--if he was who he claimed. She stood with balled fists as the others came back to her time. Kallias entered the time warp mid-kneel, watching Xanthe carefully on his way down to the floor. She was in front of him when he started the motion; now, she stood off to the right with no segue, looking up at the statue, shaking from head to toe. He finished his kneel, but was the first to rise, rushing to her side. Xanthe fought the urge to slap him when he took his hand in hers. Now past despair and beyond anger, she dragged Kallias toward the entrance. Before the sentries scrambled around her, she was already past the door and down the steps, on a direct course for Athena’s temple. She wanted answers. Actually bumping elbows with some of the faithful crowd that continued to grow as more people notified their associates of her presence in temple row, she felt a firm tug to the back of her gown. Anicetus stood there scowling. "Guards, Xanthe. You must not go anywhere without your guards," he said, trying to sound fatherly in the presence of so many. She stopped for a few seconds as her armed entourage surrounded her. Kallias read total rejection for him, his father and this whole new world in her rigid posture, but a question burned inside. "What happened back there?" he wanted to know. She shook her head. He leaned toward her ear. "You were here. Then, you were here." He used his hand to illustrate his point. Her head jerked around and she gave him a look of pure malice. He dropped the issue, but carefully gauged her when the priests of Athena proudly opened their doors to allow her passage into the temple of the goddess. Xanthe marched right up to the statue, but she could not get Kallias to let go of her hand. Afraid of starting rumors of malcontent for which Anicetus would punish her for later, she left her hand in his. Athena’s bronze statue gazed fondly down on her worshipers. Xanthe stood directly under her nose, daring her to show up. As soon as the rest of the group settled down into their kneels, Kallias included but still with his hand wrapped around Xanthe’s, a sweet wind tossed Xanthe’s hair. Kallias’ hand felt stony in hers and she realized she now faced Athena, who simply stepped out of the statue already in human, if albeit large human, form, shrinking down as her dark hair swirled around her shoulders. She dressed in early Greek clothing, a chiton undergarment under a peplos, holding a spear and wearing a helmet. With a laugh, she set the spear against the altar and took off her helmet. "What? No owl?" Xanthe asked petulantly. "Oh, I left him at home. I always have pet owls," she replied. "This is not the welcome I expected from you. You seemed so level headed back on your station." "That’s before I was given as a gift to a madman and zapped into a crumpled heap," she

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retorted. "I suppose this was all your idea." "I told Alcibiades that I was sending a gift for Olympus, not for Anicetus." Athena pinched her narrow chin thoughtfully between her thumb and forefinger. "You look nothing like our Father. Usually he leaves his mark all over the place." "Is Heracles here, too?" "Sometimes. He has a great fondness for Earth still. He likes to pick a life and live it to its completion and then come back here for a while, much like our father." Xanthe turned around and put her back against the altar. "I just do not understand." "Of course you do not. But, we do." Athena tapped her on the shoulder, encouraging her half sister to turn around. "You have to trust on this one. You will be the key to Anicetus’ undoing." "Take care of him yourself," Xanthe implored. "He scares me." "You have a lot to prove to our family, Xanthe. Your actions here depict the kind of life you will lead." She smoothed her hair lovingly. "You are so beautiful. I think Anicetus has other plans for the day, but you must visit Apollo and soon. My brother heard you sing like a bird and he is anxious to meet you." Xanthe, who wanted to hate Athena, found her caresses painfully comforting. She pulled away, though. "Get back to Kallias. He suspects something," Athena urged her. "Yes. Stand just like that," she said as Xanthe slipped her fingers back into Kallias’ lifeless hand. "Turn your head a little. Yes. Just like so." Athena smiled. "Relax. We know what we’re doing," she said as she became transparent into a sparkling glitter cloud and entered her statue. The wind stopped and Xanthe waited for the priests’ chatter to begin again, singing chants in honor of Athena the wise. Anicetus kept a close eye on her from the corner. She acted just like he hoped, glancing up at the statue and wiping a tear away. This was clearly an improvement over the interaction with Zeus’ statue, but perhaps Alcibiades and Zeus’ priests could spin the event into pangs of despair from being away from home. In fact, he discussed such with the high priest as the chants continued. The priests finished their obligatory duties and stood by the side as Kallias led a calmer Xanthe in between the miniature columns holding vases and tables of food for Athena. Kallias tried to ebb her anger at her by tenderly massaging her knuckles as they now dodged a fullfledged mob outside. Like the rest of the royal family, she held her head high while the hoplites held their shields out to hold back the deluge of people so they could pass unmolested. Aphrodite’s temple stood out against the others. Hundreds of years ago, artisans carved her feature and she stood seminude as a part of each column. Scenes of weddings and lovers graced the exterior in exquisite bas-relief. Her priests opened the doors for them and they entered an airy temple, vastly different from the austere temples already visited. Of course, the customary food and goblets of wine waited for whenever the goddess decided to feast. Aphrodite’s priests started chanting and Xanthe pulled Kallias in front of the statue, taking careful note of how she left him when the breeze came and Kallias’ hand went rigid in hers. Aphrodite shone golden as she burst out her statue’s head, drifting down to the floor so the breeze caught her gauzy attire and puffed it out around her. She alighted gracefully, spinning

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to make her clothes billow out while she giggled. "Wow. Your mother must’ve been a real looker," she said, taking Xanthe’s face between her hands, turning it from side to side. "Dad always liked ears." She tugged on Xanthe’s gently. "Well? What do you think?" "Of what?" Aphrodite glided over to Kallias and pointed. "Of him. What do you think of him? I had Cupid plant the idea in Anicetus’ head and, look, look, look; I have a perfect match." Xanthe said nothing, eyeing Kallias distastefully. "Oh, come now. Kallias is much a victim as you. Take my advice, precious--stick with Kallias no matter what happens, do you hear?" Aphrodite kissed Kallias on each cheek. "What a man." "I can’t do it. I can’t make myself have any feelings for him now other than anger," Xanthe said. "Stick with Kallias." Aphrodite wagged her finger at Xanthe. "Now, honey, just listen to my advice. I have to let time go. The three of us have bent it about all we dare." She slid over to the table and took two strips of beef and put them between bread and took a bite. Still chewing, she said, "Gotta go." She walked toward the statue, turning into nothingness with each step, followed by a miniature fireworks-like burst of opalescence with the glitter falling to the ground, evaporating as it hit the marble floor. Xanthe rushed over to Kallias, remembering her exact position before Kallias and the others came out of their stupor. She breathed easier, Kallias noted. The harsh look was gone from her eyes, but they still held a coolness he found unsettling. "Well, look at the time," she heard Anicetus announce. "I think we must be getting back." He peered out a window to the herd of people and sighed. "She is very popular, Alcibiades." "Of course she is. A gift from Athena." Alcibiades bowed at the waist as Xanthe passed by, waiting for her guards. "Train her well, my child." Alcibiades touched Anicetus forehead with his fingertips. "They will love you through her." "Yes, of course they will. My fortune has never been so high." Anicetus curbed his wicked smile. Xanthe waited by the door. All she wanted to was go home, back to her apartment, and chronicle everything she saw. The station would never believe it, though. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe Anicetus’ torture gave her some madness. When Xanthe started swerving, Kallias grew alarmed, catching her when she fell, unconscious.

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Chapter 7 "Well, how do we explain this?" Anicetus picked up his robes and stood over her. "What do we say?" "She is awash with grief," Alcibiades decided. "She is weak from not feasting on the holy foods the gods give her." Alcibiades tapped one of Aphrodite’s priest on the shoulder. "Go get the litter that we use to carry around to honor Aphrodite out of storage, clear the garland and religious symbols and bring it. Hurry, now." Xanthe barely came around, but she knew Kallias held her, wiping her hair out of her face and mouth. Surely Anicetus realized that his chip sapped her energy deeply. In fact, she felt tingles in her hands and feet. Her eyes opened into a blur, so she closed them again and drifted back into her fog. The next time she came to, she found herself in a litter with the drapes drawn to prevent the public from seeing her in such a state. "You will have to treat her in the same way from here on out," Alcibiades counseled his master. "She is seen leaving a temple on a litter, something to elevate her not quite to the gods but not quite to man, either." "I understand. I shall have a special one made for her," Anicetus replied. "Do you worry about her ego?" "No, old friend; I do not. It pains me to say it, but they sent a very nice lady down to us. A little rebellious, but she fits in high society well." "Do you worry about her presentation on the day of the wedding?" "No." Anicetus tapped the scepter against his palm. "She will behave." "How is Kallias taking it?" "Kallias knows he has no choice. Look at him, though. See how tender he is with her. He sees her as a gift. No, we need not worry about Kallias." Alcibiades steepled his hands. "What about Kallikrates?" Anicetus stopped, putting his hand over Alcibiades’ lips. "That, my friend, is trouble." "Ah. My lord, I know he is your favored son, but, please, you must not let him interfere in any way." "I have seen to it," Anicetus assured him. Xanthe moaned as the priests carried the litter up the stairs. The little jostles sent shivers down her spine. Acutely vertiginous, each tiny motion made her grip the seat, afraid of being cast to the ground. Through the pulled curtain, though, a hand came through, Kallias’ hand, searching for hers. Childishly, she crossed her arms and dodged him, but he seemed satisfied with a bit of skirt instead.

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"Carried on a litter by priests," she heard someone say. "How significant! Did you get the picture when she came out?" Prior to this, "popularity" and "Xanthe" were two words that never functioned together. Xanthe went unnoticed until she blossomed in her junior year of high school. Even then, though, she wore the air of "do not touch; I have to study." She shunned the sorority crowd and ended up with other bookworm roommates until going for her doctorate, which had its unpleasantness, given Zed’s sick obsession with her. She never saw herself earning fame by just being born. The light changed, signifying crossing the threshold into the palace. The priests sat the litter on the floor. Kallias pulled her out and she felt the walls closing in on her once more. # "We had her but we lost her," Anna relayed. "We believe she was in the litter." "Hm." Fritz DuMontier, Greek expert, stood over her shoulder, watching her over his hawkish nose. "Replay the video. I’m particularly interested where she shot out of the temple of Zeus after just moments." Anna accommodated him and within seconds, both they and a growing crowd watched Xanthe fly out of the temple before her guards caught up to her. "Zeus, Athena and Aphrodite." Fritz stroked his chin. "What was in there that made her want out so quickly?" He backed the frame up and enlarged a section. "Anicetus looks none too happy with her, either." "We need to send someone down there," Penelope insisted. "We can speak the language and adapt our wardrobes. If Dr. Reynolds goes back into the gardens, we can be ready and intercept her there. Somebody needs to study that implant and remove it." "We have direct orders from Commander Hurford to stay on the station. Even if we wished to try something like that, it would need her approval and could take weeks," Anna replied. "So much for spontaneity," Penelope groused. Fritz cleared his throat. He did not like being talked around, but he knew the crew’s resentment and understood it. They made overtones about their distaste for Commander Hurford, but no one outright said anything. They knew Donna Hurford’s keen interest in her son’s best friend. In fact, Fritz applied to be the leader on this project, but Xanthe’s instincts in simulations put her as a clear favorite, with scores so high even Commander Hurford could not push his selection over the sweet-natured blonde. They had been close once, Xanthe, Zed and Fritz, but Zed blew it. Somehow, Hurford pulled the strings and Fritz never testified. He possessed damning evidence to the case. He harbored no resentment to the crew, most of whom never knew about the affair between Xanthe and Zed. Apparently, Dr. Reynolds never dwelled on her past. Besides, nothing really happened. Fritz popped in during the act and pulled Zed away from her during their doctorate days. "Dr. DuMontier?" Anna tapped him on the forearm. "Doctor?" "I’m sorry. Yes?" "Why the litter? It is an overwhelming symbolic gesture, but what if they needed it to move her?" "Like she couldn’t under her own power?" "Yes. She looked so pale coming out of the temple. I saw her chest heave by the time

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she made it to temple row." "I saw that, as well." Fritz rubbed his forehead. "Keep checking the blogs. Do specific searches for those who have contacts inside the palace. The rumor mill might provide the best leads." "Sure." Anna moved to a different part of the observation deck and plugged into the Greek datanet, the Knowledge Network. # Xanthe chronicled her experience before going into the temples in one book and started another for her dreamlike experiences at the temples. She worked in her room with the door closed, wanting no one even knowing about the presence of a second book, filled with detailed sketches of those who claimed to be her new family. Trying to keep it verbatim, she crossed out words and replaced them, still hating her handwriting. She tucked the slender volume between her mattresses and rethought it. The palace workers changed the sheets often. So, she hid the volume below her art supplies. After all, it was just another sketch pad. Even if someone did find it, it was in English, her primary language, although she thought about writing it in AUL, the Alliance Universal Language, so all would know of her plight. However, the Alliance might just laugh at her claims, so she kept it in English for her own personal use. Kallias knocked on the door. "Xanthe, you skipped lunch. Please join me for dinner." She mulled over Aphrodite’s edict to stick with Kallias no matter what, but rage still bubbled in her stomach, leaving little room for food. "Please, Xanthe. You must eat." Xanthe grabbed a tablet and a pen. Writing quickly, she put the message to his nose. "You want to go back to the kitchen?" he read. She nodded. "I will eat there." "I know what you want," Kallias said, dejection clearly written in the wrinkles on his brow. "You are so angry at us you will not even partake of anything we can give you." She nodded curtly. He noticed she changed into something more comfortable, but it covered her legs and belly. "Fine," he caved in. "Take Mysia and Persephone with you." Right then, Demetria pushed a cart in, filled with the kitchen’s offerings of the evening, enough for two people. "Invite Zerro," she wrote, pointing to it haughtily. She started to write, "You offered to protect me, and I've seen how good you are. What good are you?" She finished it but looked into Kallias’ eyes. After ripping the sheet out, she crumped it and tossed it in the unlit fireplace for kindling. Setting the paper and pen on Kallias’ planning table, she went into the hallway and tapped each guard on the shoulder, motioning for them to come along. Kallias waited until she left to call Zerro for supper. The balled-up paper intrigued him, so he retrieved it out of the soot and opened it. His chin dimpled as Zerro entered. "She is correct." He handed the paper to Zerro. "What good are any of us?" "Emotional support?" "I doubt she wants that, either." Kallias took it back and wadded it up, leaving it in the same place she did. "What good are we? I cannot protect her from my own father. Some warriors we are." He put his elbow on the mantlepiece and leaned on his hand, tugging at the hair around his ears.

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"I work hard, Kallias. I try to find a solution. I will find it," Zerro vowed. "Keep at it and make the most of it. You always liked smart women. Well, there was Amarante, but..." "By the gods, I hate this," Kallias growled. "My father shines through her. The heretics are confused. My father will have his way with the continent, but he deserves so much less." # Xanthe really wanted a tomato to add to the sandwich she made out of lamb and onions. Mysia and Persephone stood quietly, one facing her and one holding her gun out front. The kitchen staff stood around, confused. Any time a royal wanted a snack, a maid came after it, but the Handmaiden stood in front of their refrigerators, picking out leftovers. The chef cleared his throat and approached her. "Do our meals dissatisfy you?" Xanthe shook her head. She pointed to the leftover lamb from lunch. "Ah, you wanted seconds from our noon meal," he realized, a smile coming back to him. "Yes, I love my lamb. The seasonings were just right today. I checked it myself. Do you have enough cheese?" Xanthe sat her sandwich next to a modest pile of goat cheese, some more onion cut into rings and more bread. Grapes and carrots finished the meal. She bobbed her head to the chef and Mysia led and Persephone trailed as she walked back to Kallias’ apartment. The men, halfway through their meal, both rose when she came back. "Will you even join us?" Kallias asked. Xanthe considered his request for a full minute with her feet pointing toward the door to her room and the plate toward the table the two men shared. "It is not us you have to worry about," Zerro tried. Xanthe took a slow step toward the table. In Kallias’ view, she looked like a beaten dog, trying to obey his master’s orders with fear its heart. Her head jerked. She really did not like the situation. To encourage her, Kallias held out a chair, tapping the padded back. Xanthe sat finally, her eyes interested only in her food. All ate quietly, except for the munching of Xanthe’s carrots. "You like onions," Zerro said after a few moments. She nodded. "Do they have them where you come from?" Kallias asked. "Yes," she mouthed. "You have all this plus a whole lot more, I gather." "Yes." She already missed the influence of sugar. "Xanthe," Kallias began cautiously, "if there were a way to prevent what happened this morning, I would have." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "I do not know how to stop him." Xanthe finished her mouthful and pushed the plate away. The day took its toll; she wanted to stand quickly and bolt out of the room, but getting up gracefully and taking smooth strides carried her away from the table. "Nice try," Zerro said. "Now I am not hungry." Kallias put down his spoon. "I am glad she has no training in fighting skills. She might kill us." "She killed me with a look." He massaged the right side of his face. "What are we going

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to do?" "I will keep at it," Zerro assured him. "In order to hide my participation in this, I have many channels to go through. Information takes time. I promise you I will get results." "Perhaps it is you she should marry." "She will come around. You can see it. She craves someone--anyone--who will help her." "Still, that means you." "I do it to make you look good in her eyes. Surely all these years of friendship deserve some reciprocation. I do this for you." Zerro hopped up, trying to lighten the mood. "Come. We will make plans to cover your offices during your matrimonial week. Then, we shall go spar somewhere." Kallias fingered the butt of his sword. "Yes. Let us do so." "Somehow, someway, we will get her back to where she belongs." Kallias rounded the table, looking at Xanthe’s half-eaten meal. "We have to do it quickly. I held her hand in mine today. Any excess time, I become more attached. I feel her station calling me home. Please, find a solution quickly."

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Chapter 8 Xanthe wanted to wake up to sunshine spilling into her room, but the pseudo sunlamp imitated life, and Xanthe rose to it. The fake sun kept her oriented to time, actually moving on tracks to mimic the sun’s course. She collected her change of clothes and bumped into Kallias, who came out of the bathing chamber as she went in. "Demetria said she has a cobbler coming," he said. Xanthe rolled her eyes. More pomp and circumstance, and she really wanted that bath. She stepped around him and went inside. Kallias liked his burgundy hair to dry naturally. Maybe a change in color--sapphire, to be exact--might elicit a positive response from his somber fiancee. His fist met the table. He wanted her to look upon him as a confidant, not a coward. Having an entire military at his command made no difference. Random thoughts about a military coup entered his mind, more strongly than the fleeting ideas entertained over the years. His father needed deposed, but Anicetus put on such benevolent drama that his military would never just follow Kallias because he was Kallias. Stewing, Kallias sat at his planning table, twiddling a pen between his fingers. He left Xanthe a note attached to her door. "Gone to work," it said. # The cobbler brought only one pair of shoes Xanthe liked. She tolerated a few others for the sake of matching her clothes, but she clearly delineated on paper what she liked--chunky high heels and boots made of leather. When he left, she sketched loose-leg pant suits with gauzy, decent tunics. She made her first contact of the day with Demetria, so that the maid could send the sketches to a local clothier. If she were to dictate fashion, she was going to start with comfort. Anicetus showed up right about lunchtime, forcing Xanthe to share a meal with him. Kallias, strangely, stayed absent. Surprised at herself, Xanthe wanted him there--anything to avoid Anicetus alone. He gave her voice back, though. "Has Kleitos been by?" he asked. "No." Xanthe pushed the beans around on her plate. "Time grows short. You need a gown. Zerro is already securing the route for your chariot ride. As you know, the bride would be picked up at her residence and brought here. In our case, I will give you to Kallias at the back door and the chariot will carry you to the front. I do not suppose you have plans on giving my son an heir."

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Xanthe fumed and turned red at the suggestion. "I take that as a no." Anicetus took a bite with gusto. "Xanthe, as I told Alcibiades, you are a very nice girl." The fatherly overtone came back. "Do you think I wish to harm you? I need your cooperation." He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a cloth. "All you must do is go along with what I have planned. Once I have solidified my rule, you will be free to do as you please." Anicetus watched her play with her food. "Eat. You remain too pale. I want a robust Handmaiden." The scepter lay across his lap and he made no motion to use it. "I will coach you on what to say and what to do. I want you to say absolutely nothing about your station or your origins. You will act like a handmaiden in accordance of the guidelines I will set for you." "You want me to lie," she said. "I want you do anything in your power to convince the heretics that you were god-sent. I do not think it will take much. Even they have not developed a contraption that can float through the air. The amateur videos captured too much of your grand entrance to our world." If he had an interest in her past life, he gave no inkling of it. "You just do not comprehend it, Xanthe. I can make you the most powerful force on this world. Fame. Popularity. Devotion from your subjects. Please consider my words. You looked so helpless when you collapsed." Anicetus got up. "Wedding preparations are underway. Make sure you are mentally prepared. I will have no sullen bride to give to my son, understand?" Xanthe nodded. "You eat," he commanded. "I will instruct Demetria to bring you six meals a day. Surely you will find something to your liking." Xanthe leaned on her elbow with her forehead against her hand. "Goodbye and good day, Heavenly One." With that, Anicetus left. Xanthe pushed her plate away. At least he let her keep her voice for a while. As she wallowed in her misery, a new thought came to mind. Heracles was half human. She sat up. So was Dionysus. One had incredible strength and the other had enough power in to provide Midas’ golden touch, according to the myths. How much was true and how much was legend? Did they just show up on Earth, cause chaos and let the ancients put a spin on it? She put her forehead on the table, though, still unconvinced her meetings with the cloud beings actually happened. Fear overshadowed the joy that her father still lived. His enthusiasm for ancient Greece neither surprised her nor encouraged her. Still with her head on the table, the door opened. Kallikrates stepped through it and Xanthe recoiled, but she noticed that her two guards immediately came in and stood by the jambs. "I wish to speak with you in private," he said, stroking his crimson hair. The guards refused to budge. "We have direct orders from King Anicetus himself that only Kallias, his maid or Anicetus himself may enter without our protection," Mysia spoke. He rolled his eyes and took Xanthe near the unlit fireplace on the very far side of the room, holding her elbow. "I see your pain," he started, his voice low and soft in sharp contrast to the ominous spark in his eyes. "Kallias is no man for you. We both know that." Unabashedly, he reached out and touched her face with the back of his hand. "I can ease your suffering. Give me what I want and I will speak with father on your behalf. Perhaps we can come to some type of arrangement."

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"I do not think so," she retorted, close to panic. "Come now, I am the object of every woman’s desire," he claimed. He touched her again, this time tracing down to the small of her neck. "Will you not indulge me?" His boldness amazed her. He kept his back turned to the guards and made little motions, looking like a concerned brother-in-law. "Well?" Xanthe shook her head violently and pushed him away. Kallikrates’ voice grew deep and threatening. "You know, if you had arrived four years ago, you would be mine," he hissed. "I will treat you so good--" The door opened and Kallias charged inside. Kallikrates whirled around, his hair swinging behind him. "I think it is time for you to leave," Kallias growled as Xanthe dashed to be near him. He put his hand in front of her, shielding her from Kallikrates’ dagger-throwing eyes. "Have a nice day," Kallikrates said, menace coating his words. "Same to you," Kallias groused. He waited until Kallikrates left. Mysia and Persephone, now not needed, resumed their posts outside. "What did he do to you?" "Nothing much." "A proposition?" She nodded. Kallias closed his lids over rolling eyes and sighed heavily. "Poor Phaedra. It is good to see you have a voice though. Xanthe, do everything to try and keep it. I need to hear you scream for help." Xanthe tugged on Kallias’ sleeve. "How did you know he was here?" "I always know where Kallikrates is." He ran a hand through his hair, clutching it at his nape. "Stay away from him. Never put yourself in a position where you might be alone with him. Understand?" "Yes." "I will speak to my father about this. This has to stop." He cautiously put his hands on her shoulders. "Are you all right?" She nodded and slipped away from him. "I suppose this just make you hate us more." Xanthe walked around the planning table, tracing the veneer with graceful finger. With every moment, her situation grew more precarious. Nothing she did improved her life. In the end, she plopped down on a chair and put her head in her hands, releasing tears. When she felt Kallias’ hand on her shoulder, she scooted over to get away from him then stood sharply. She cast him a glance of complete bewilderment before stalking to her own room. She knew not where to turn. # With five more days to the wedding and counting, Xanthe flopped on one of the couches to watch the news. During the gossip section, the commentator talked about the wedding, predicting Kleitos’ perfection. "We heard at least four frozen swans will grace the dining tables." Someone knocked on the door and Kleitos entered, bringing the lady warriors in with

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him. Xanthe shut off the news and stood. "They were just talking about you," she said, pointing to the large viewscreen. "Oh, they always do." Kleitos smiled. "Speak some more. You have a beautiful voice, one that does not command but entice. Please. Speak." "I do not know what to say. What brings you here today?" "Father is right; you do speak with the old tongue of our forebears, a very learned vernacular." Kleitos beamed and fished a camera out of a hip bag. "I have come to photograph you." "What?" "I am making decorations for the wedding. Kallias has given me his picture. Now, you will do the same for me," he said cheerily. "Please." "What are you going to do?" "Ice statues!" He pushed her into good light and snapped his first full-length shot. "Now, rotate just a touch to the left." He snapped another picture and guided her through about twenty shots, getting her from every angle. "Now, I will feed these into the computer and they will make a mold. What do you think?" "I think it is very nice." She went back to the couch and sat with her knees together but her feet spread. "You look so sad." Kleitos sat next to her. "Is there anything I can do?" "No." She rubbed her forehead. "No one can." Kleitos pushed the hair away from her forehead. "You know, if every woman was like you, I might switch." Xanthe choked on a chuckle. "See? I made you smile. All hope is not lost." He patted her back twice. "Well, I hate to leave you, but I am just awash in planning. Thank you for your time." She stood as Kleitos left, waving to him when he turned around one last time. # "Xanthe?" Kallias knocked on the door to her room. "I must speak with you." Through the now-open door, Xanthe looked at his impressive chest, showing through the deep neck of his shirt with crisscross straps. "Yes?" "The perfumer has been called. He will be here within the hour. My father requests that you wear something regal." Xanthe nodded while looking at her feet. "I must tell you, Xanthe, that there was really no need to give back your voice if you refuse to use it." Xanthe looked up briefly, allowing him to see the hurt in her cobalt eyes, maybe sharing some of her pain. As if he felt it, he put his hand up to his forehead and squinted. Xanthe swallowed. God, she wanted to at least like him, but he was part of the forces that held her prisoner. Without a word, she closed the door in his face. Kallias wandered to the couch. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. By the gods, he wanted her to like him. She haunted his dreams, usually reaching out to him but something pulled her away just as their fingertips touched, out of his grasp. She needed someone--anyone. Kleitos claimed he got her to smile, but Kleitos focused on himself too much,

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not leaving much room for anyone else. A need to be recognized for his talents drove Kleitos to barely even sleep at night, with a goal to be on every newscaster’s gossip time slot. And, he managed to stay out of the way of his father’s wrath. The situation with Kallikrates ate at Kallias. He saw the fear clearly present in Xanthe’s eyes. Kallikrates frustratingly got his way with everything, but not this time, Kallias vowed. Still, he felt useless. His father had the upper hand everywhere the poor girl turned. She needed off Olympus and fast, but would she still take him with her? # Kallias and Xanthe sat nervously, waiting for the perfumer to set up his scents, separating them into groups of musks, flower extracts, fruit extracts and more. Anicetus showed up too, sitting comfortably in an overstuffed chair with his scepter across his lap. Kallias’ hands shook. His selection of perfume for his bride-to-be set her apart as a woman loved by a man with another way to call him home every night. Henceforth, the public expected Xanthe to show up with her own specific scent, signifying a happy bride. When angered, women refused to wear their scents until their husband apologized or otherwise rectified the situation. Technology made the process downright scientific, categorizing the specific formula, launching a whole line of tailor-made accessories, such as soaps, lotions and bath oils. Xanthe hoped desperately for something to her liking, and cringed when Kallias got up and headed for the homey scents, starting first with cinnamon. The strong essence reached Xanthe’s olfactory sense, as well. Kallias put down the bottle. The cinnamon proved an important archaeological fact; ancient Greeks traded with Egypt, who imported cinnamon for burial rituals, in turn exporting it to the Greeks, which again confirmed the fact that the god beings gave their colonists everything they were used to at the time of their abduction. Kallias, intent on the perfect selection, sniffed nearly every bottle. Xanthe stifled several yawns. Now almost an hour into the process, Xanthe watched Kallias move back to the flowery scents, going back to the rose. Xanthe liked roses. She could live with that. "So you choose rose as your base sent, my lord?" the perfumer asked. "But not too strong. It needs muted somehow." The wizened man opened another case, and the stacked shelves opened up like a staircase. He took out three sample dishes and added drops of different essential oils to the empty dishes. After adding drops of the rose scent, he swirled them around to mix them and handed the first dish to Kallias. He sniffed it, tilting his head. "Now the others," he said, holding out a hand, one for each sample. He tested each one several times, going back to the first dish. "This one," he said. "Very well. Please, try it out before you make your final decision. Her chemistry will be the determining factor." The little tremor in Kallias’ hands amplified as he approached her and she stood, letting him put a fingertip on her neck below her ear and massage it. Totally surprised, Xanthe caught her breath before it belied the obvious; she craved a man’s gentle touch. He took longer than necessary to rub the scent in, encouraging her own oils to mingle with that of his chosen scent. Kallias put down the sample dish and put both hands on her shoulders, leaning in to test it out.

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Xanthe swallowed as his breath tickled her ear and his nose traced her slender neck. "Does it do anything for you, Prince Kallias?" the perfumer asked. Kallias felt Xanthe’s breaths change. He pulled back slowly, catching her wide eyes for a brief second before she sat dutifully on the couch with her hands in between her thighs. "Yes, I believe it does." As if he knew her conflicting feelings, he looked at her. "Do you like it?" Xanthe inhaled. She loved it. It made her appetite come back to a small degree. After a few seconds, she nodded. "You are sure?" Kallias asked. The perfumer’s eyebrow went up. A husband never asked his wife for her input. Xanthe nodded again, a slight flush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. "I will take it." Kallias handed the perfumer the proper dish. The perfumer logged the formula and printed out a label. He put the lid on the dish and stuck the label to it. "Her perfume line will be ready in plenty of time for the wedding." "Thank you." Kallias sat next to Xanthe as the perfumer collected his bottles and put them back. From behind the perfumer, Anicetus motioned for the couple to sit closer together. He wanted another witness to the happy couple--a highly respected perfumer always told tales about his clientele. Xanthe nearly lost it when Kallias put his arm around her shoulder and nuzzled the area of her perfume. The perfumer took note of her red face and chuckled. He had worked such magic before. Kallias tangled her soft hair between his fingers. Xanthe cooperated in the ruse. In fact, part of her enjoyed a man’s affection. Hormones she thought lost came rushing back to memory and she turned her cheek to touch Kallias’ cheek, breathing softly in his ear. Anicetus smiled when he saw Kallias clutch the back of Xanthe’s dress. Xanthe had to put a stop to it. The perfumer finished packing and Demetria let him out. Kallias felt so warm and gentle, but she pulled away from him and stood, straightening her hair. She nodded to Anicetus and marched out of the room, promptly flopping on her bed until the surges of desire faded.

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Chapter 9 Demetria came by with yet another meal and Xanthe sampled a bit of everything. So much excitement made her hungry, and for more than food. Twice, she dropped her spoon and chastised herself for her feelings. She still felt Kallias’ soft touch. This new development confounded her. Two hours later, she sat with her forehead on Kallias’ planning table, rolling it from side to side while she figured out how to present herself to Kallias on their next meeting. He had to feel her excitement on some level. He had to. A knock interrupted her musing. She got up and answered the door. As if her hormone problem was not enough, Zerro stood there without a shirt, not uncommon for the handsome of form. A tattoo of a lightning bolt sat between his prominent pecs. "Is Kallias home yet?" Zerro wanted to know. She shook her head. Zerro looked at his watch. "It is nearly dinnertime. May I come in and wait for him?" Xanthe declined his request. It just did not look proper. "Come, now. He will be home any minute. I will wait at the table. Look; Demetria comes up the hallway with our food now." Xanthe held her ground. She let the maid through, but stopped Zerro’s entry when she put a palm against his perfect chest, his horsetail from his helmet draping over her arm. She quickly withdrew her hand but Zerro got the message. "Very well," he said, but not angrily. It probably did look inappropriate. The door closed and he waited next to Mysia with his foot propped against the wall and his arms folded across his chest. Presently, Kallias ambled up the hall. "She would not let you in?" "No." Zerro smiled. "She pushed me back into the hallway." "Good. She does not like you either," Kallias grumbled. "How did the perfume selection go?" Kallias waited until they were inside to answer. He looked around for Xanthe, whom he did not find. Now out of the earshot of the sentries, he sat heavily in his chair. "She let me touch her. I know it was for show, but she cuddled with me." "Ah." Zerro sat opposite Kallias while Demetria set the table. "And I presume you liked it." Kallias noticed Demetria’s broad grin as the pair talked around her. "Everything about her is soft," he said through a sigh. "Even her dirty looks have a

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certain humanity to it." Kallias touched the tip of his nose and cleared his throat. "Demetria, did you call Xanthe for dinner?" "No, Prigkipas, I did not. I assumed that you would." Demetria sat the domed platter on the table. "I will go at once." "No, I will take care of it." Kallias pushed away from the table and stood, striding over to Xanthe’s door, and he knocked. "Xanthe?" Xanthe sat on her bed, adding flourishes and extra pictures in her god-being book. She shoved the secret tome under her pillow. Her heart quickened with every step toward Kallias. "Oh god, girl, get it together," she said in English. "You are a fool." Kallias heard it, assuming she stubbed her toe and lapsed into her native tongue, but when she opened the door, her face had a lot of color to it. She tried to make eye contact but it eluded her. Kallias swallowed. He touched her face and wiped away a trail of periwinkle pastel dust. "Drawing again?" "Yes." "Dinner is here. Are you going to eat?" Xanthe looked past him to Zerro, who waved merrily. Adding the two of them to her already sexually charged mood seemed like a bad idea. Still, her feet moved without her consent, shuffling away from the door. "We are not going to hurt you," Zerro said. Like Kallias characterized her before, she looked like a mongrel dog, a very sweet mongrel dog, that had been kicked too many times. As she sat next to him, he unceremoniously leaned over and inhaled. "Ah. That is the perfect scent for you." Did he just try to look down my shirt? Xanthe blinked and sat back as Demetria set her a place. "Do you even like roses?" Zerro wondered. She nodded. "Xanthe, you have your voice. Use it," Kallias encouraged her. "Yes. I like roses." Demetria served ham and beans with flat bread, and she ladled some of it into a metal bowl with a handle on it, setting slices of onion next to it. Xanthe had to smile. American meals from the Deep South in a Greek setting struck her as odd. "What amuses you?" Kallias nudged her elbow. "Oh. I have had this meal before. On my planet. For worlds apart, this appears very similar." She used the knife to cut the onion rings into manageable pieces. "We only lack cornbread, which is made with kernels from a plant not found here." "This is one of my favorites," Kallias said. "Many of your forebears considered beans a ‘dirty’ meal," Xanthe pointed out. "I was surprised to see it served." "Demetria specially orders it for us," Zerro explained. "Besides, there are reasons that high society shuns beans. It would be awful embarrassing to, ahem, expel the aftereffects of these wonderful beans during a visit to the temple." Xanthe covered her mouth, but her grin went past her fingertips. "On my station, they

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had contests," she whispered, leaning closer to the men. "Of course, I never participated, but they were so funny." "Contests? Expulsion contests?" Kallias’ eyes shone. "You must have been very close to your friends up there." "They are a tight-knit bunch." She took a bite. "I just watched and laughed along." "Do you have someone waiting for you back on the station?" Kallias talked around his food. "I mean, someone who would object to this marriage thing." "No, there is not." Xanthe dipped her bread into the soup. "There has not been for three years." Her past depressed her in some aspects, and her sigh proved it. "Kallias, I need to go to the gardens. I have a book they need to see." "Sure, but it is raining outside." Xanthe sighed. "I would not know." "What did you do on your station during inclement weather?" Zerro asked. "There is no inclement weather in orbit. We are far higher than the clouds and jet streams that affect your weather." "Ah." Zerro smiled. "How big is it?" "It could fit easily on the palace grounds. It is large enough for a crew of 40--ten military, two cooks, one engineer, five housekeepers, one doctor, one nurse and the rest anthropological team. There are five rings, all stacked one on top of the other." "Xanthe, draw it for us," Kallias requested. He motioned for Demetria to remove the remnants of dinner. Xanthe hopped out of her chair and went to her room. In addition to sheets of drawing paper, she brought another book, drawings of those people inhabiting the Columbus. She selected charcoal, remembering the Columbus the first time she saw it. Starting with the shuttle moored to the bottom, she drew the stacked rings. "What is that? It looks like a van," Zerro said, pointing at the shuttle. "That is the emergency shuttle, in case someone falls sick beyond Doc Hank’s capability and needs transferred. The night of the attack on our station, we were supposed to--" "Attack?" Kallias questioned. "I do not know what else to call it. They took control of the station, put everyone asleep and kidnaped me. What else do you call it?" "Good point," Zerro said. "It is hard for us to fathom your anger at our gods, who bless us." "You bless yourselves," Xanthe disagreed. "They are like us; they watch and observe. The stuck around long enough to give you your legends, which time made more magnificent and mythical. I doubt they have done five percent of what your ancient writings tell you." "You are so confident of this," Kallias noted. "I worry that you will anger them." "I do not care what they think," she fussed. "I see no point of putting me down here." "You are to unite our world." Kallias pulled the book of her friends toward him. "Under Anicetus?" Xanthe scowled. "I hardly think that idea wise." Neither man said anything; rather, they changed the subject by sharing the book and pushing it toward her. "Who is this?" Kallias asked.

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"The Stationmaster Hilliard. He runs the station." "Kallias tells me you drew me." Zerro caught her eyes. "May I see it?" Xanthe shrugged. "You wear your helmet. I had no idea about your tattoo." She went back to her room and found the rolled-up drawing, handing it to him by the end of the tube. "Here." Zerro unrolled it, starting head first. The more he unrolled, the more he smiled. "You have my proportions just right." "He will frame it and put it right next to his mirror," Kallias predicted. "Why the helmet, Zerro?" Xanthe wondered. "Always, in the public eye, you wear it." "That is because he has a double life," Kallias explained. "Oh?" "I am an athlete," Zerro admitted. "A very fine athlete. In the Olympics, I am Adonis." "Adonis?" Xanthe rubbed her chin. "I know your forebears brought the legend of Adonis with them. Interesting choice." "I fit the role," Zerro claimed. Kallias rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. "You had to get him started." "They wait for me. Adonis shows up only for the games and races. I leave them with no leads. Nobody knows where I come from. I play upon mystique." "I know about your Olympics. The games are upon us," Xanthe said. "In which events do you participate?" "The pentathlete, the most grueling exhibition of athleticism." He sniffed and let out an even, dignified exhale. "I play to win." "He has won the last two Olympics and all the mini sports in this area. Zerro will not admit it, but he is in for a tough challenge this year. Face it, Zerro, you might lose your laurels." Zerro nodded. "This will be my last Olympics," he predicted. "Adonis." Xanthe touched her cheek thoughtfully. "Your opinion of yourself is higher than I thought." "Probably." Zerro fingered one of his tight sapphire curls. "It is somewhat of a curse, though, and the helmet helps me stay away from those more lusty of women." "You do not like the attention?" "Oh, I do, as long as I am Adonis. Zerro is strictly celibate." "Very interesting." Xanthe, surprised at how relaxed she was, settled back against her chair. "I bet you were very athletic," Zerro said. "I could not even do a flexed arm hang. I am a scholar." "Surely with your fine lines, you were dominant at some sport or another," Zerro replied. "No, I swear to you. When it comes to sports, I am woefully inept." "You must take her with you when you run the palace grounds," Zerro advised. "We will make her an athlete." "Me? Run?" Xanthe shook her head. "I look like a deer with a broken leg." She did not mention the discomfort of her top half during such endeavors, but Zerro seemed to notice, for his vision rested there for a brief second. Her breaths quickened, but Kallias seemed oblivious. Growing uncomfortable, she collected her drawings.

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"You will leave us?" Kallias got up and helped her shut her pencil box. She hesitated with arms full of her artwork. "I have some things to do. Please inform me when it stops raining." Kallias knew damn well she lied, but she avoided looking at Zerro while she gathered as much as she could carry. Zerro helped out by putting her tin of art gum on the stack right under the tip of her nose. "I will be seeing you later," Zerro promised. Kallias walked her to the door. "Can you make it?" Xanthe nodded that she could. In fact, she used her knee to raise the handle on the door and disappeared inside. Kallias took a deep breath and tried his disappointment while Zerro chuckled at him from the table. "What did you do?" Kallias asked warily. He shrugged. "I tested her out," he whispered while Kallias sat. "I wanted to see if she was a nice girl or not." "You let your eyes wander?" Kallias asked. "Kallias, women lay at my feet and beg." He ran a hand through his curls. "In the coming days, we shall see what our little Xanthe is made of." "Perhaps this is not a good idea." "Look, Kallias. If you are intent on leaving everything behind to go with her, I will make damn sure she is worth it." Kallias’ hand slid down the angle of his jaw. "Then proceed, Zerro, by all means."

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Chapter 10 Kallias knocked just before bedtime, letting Xanthe know the rain continued. Dejected, Xanthe gave no reply, nodded her thanks and shut the door. She wanted to be alone. Leaning against the wall, she put her forehead in her hands. Obviously, somehow, she gained Zerro’s attention. Even though he came off as a self-absorbed narcissist, he had appeal. Lots of it. But Kallias--she ground her eyes in her palms. She still smelled him in the air in their brief exchange. "Focus!" she pleaded with herself. "What is your goal? Your main priority and duty to the Alliance are to get off this planet before you influence it any more than you already have." Resolve built with each step. She categorically collected her art supplies and put them away neatly. By the time she shut the last drawer, she knew her path lay with Kallias, but she had to keep him at a distance. When she took him with her, he needed freedom to explore. Aphrodite’s directive to stay with Kallias nagged at her, but Kallias was the logical choice. And, over that, the realization that Kallias offered her no protection ate at her. She wanted to punish him for the role he played, yet she ate with him and felt comfortable doing so. Sorting out the mental mish-mash, she collapsed on her bed fully clothed. Randomly, she pulled her god-being book out and fingered its pages, especially that of Zeus. Perhaps Anicetus would grant a request for her to visit the temples again--of course he would, touting her as a devoted worshiper. With two more days until the wedding, Xanthe fretted. She trusted Kallias not to start anything. As Olympian time passed, women became more than a vessel for bearing children, but the weddings witnessed still held significant parallels to the ancient ways, although somewhat out of order. She dreaded the ordeal, especially the wedding dress selection. The next morning, Xanthe sat on the couch, waiting for Kallias to finish in the chambers and she could have her turn. Already, she turned down Demetria’s offer to scrub her hair. She watched Kallias go into his study, sitting down at the desk to log onto the Knowledge Network, which he did every morning before Demetria served breakfast. Xanthe caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, turning to take a closer look. Her face definitely looked thinner and the elastic waist of her shorts pulled away from her belly further than before. Not exactly surprised, she doffed her clothes and climbed in the water, turning a dial to turn up the heat. The water failed to soothe her, so she took her bath quickly, climbed out of the tub and grabbed a fluffy robe while she stood under the dryer. Like always, this early in the morning, she left her clothes back in her room. After all, the robe covered far more than her usual attire. She walked through the door to see Kallias conversing with one of his generals. Her eyes

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widened and, as the general’s back was toward her, she tiptoed, hoping to go unnoticed. Kallias’ eyes lit up with merriment. Mischief greeted her in his amused glance. He held out his hand. "You look fine, Xanthe. Come meet General Arkhidamos." Her face reddened, but her bare feet led her across the floor as the general turned around, getting up quickly to greet her. Unsure how to greet a woman of grand stature in something as private as a bathrobe, he held his hand out for hers and kissed the back of it, but Xanthe picked up on his haughtiness immediately. She withdrew her hand and stepped back as the general made a survey of Kallias’ bride to be. By the conflict apparent on his face, he preferred to deal with men, and wondered why Athena sent the gift of a frail-looking, thin woman. "I hear you do not say much," Arkhidamos said. "That is an unusual way to start a conversation," Kallias remarked. "Think of the possibilities, though, my prince. No nagging. No bickering. No demands." Quite pleased with his assessment, he settled back down in his chair, crossed his legs at the ankles and laced his fingers across his middle. "Yes, a quiet bride. Oh, that I were so lucky." Kallias saw Xanthe’s fist clench, but was too late to halt the fast hand that came up and smacked Arkhidamos’ cheek, leaving a good welt. Almost appalled, Kallias watched Xanthe grab the arms of Arkhidamos’ chair, lean forward and put her face in his. "Never, ever, forget who sent me here." Her eyes hardened and her body shook from anger. She pushed off from the chair, twirled on her heel and left for her room. "Well, the gods let her speak," Kallias mentioned as his flustered general turned back toward the planning table. "Face it, Arkhidamos, she is above us. All of us." Kallias pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Even Father does not know how to handle this." "The gods must be crazy," Arkhidamos said on an exhale. "I must be crazy. I just offended the gods’ gift to us." "It is a mistake you will not make again," Kallias informed him. "Now, where were we?" # Xanthe’s arms grew tired from extending them while the tailor pinned the fabric under her arms. Not purposely, Xanthe made the man’s work harder by giving him explicit guidelines, that being that the dress match sapphires and platinum and that it be straight and fetching, going against conventional fads. This she said through Demetria, curbing her tongue while the man did his job. Even Xanthe was impressed with the outcome. A sapphire shell appeared with a gauzy silver overlay. The underdress streamlined her body with a daring V down her front and simple straps, while the gauzy wrap flared out around the forearms and legs. She shimmered any way she moved. As the tailor made his last adjustments, Demetria eagerly sought out Xanthe’s variety of jewelry and hair accessories, plotting Xanthe’s perfect presentation. After the final alterations, Xanthe picked up her skirts and headed to the bedroom, kicking off the god-given shoes, which amazingly matched her wedding dress. She slipped that off and went back to the tailor’s stool, where he started on her presentation dress for the day after the wedding. Demetria consulted Kleitos for the color scheme while the tailor sketched a dress on paper. Something akin to a 17th century Earth court dress took shape. Xanthe wondered about their time scheme with so many stays and bustles to make. But, the tailor came prepared, down

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to a corset. Xanthe put it on while Demetria pulled it tight. "Prince Kleitos desires pastels," Demetria informed the dressmaker. "Any color will do besides that." The dressmaker colored the sketch in hues of pale rose. Xanthe let him take artistic license but wondered how, exactly, to sit in a chair in such a dress. She anticipated the afterglow party portended lots and lots of standing, so she chose her most comfortable dress shoes, those with a flat heel, while the tailor took his measurements. She lounged on the couch, listening to the whir of the tailor’s sewing machine, and closed her eyes. If she tried hard enough, she felt her mother’s presence, a very good dressmaker in her own right. Back home, on Earth, her mother’s weaving loom gathered dust. Her mother took interest in ancient Greece, as well, contributing to a near-dead hobby that reflected her husband’s interests. It all made sense, now; her father desired to be a part of a world he loved so well. Zeus confounded her to the point that she never thought to be happy that he was not abducted like so many thought. Her father lived, and she was angry. Demetria pitied her, lying there with a few tears working their way across her high cheekbones. The poor lady acted like she wanted to be part of everything, yet she shunned so much. Demetria just knew Xanthe liked her, but Demetria, part of a machine, felt guilty about it. At Anicetus’ order, Demetria presented herself to Xanthe nearly constantly, often pushing cart after cart of culinary delights from the kitchen. Xanthe ate dutifully, carefully tasting each offering before pushing the rest away. Extravagant meals meant nothing; prison food was, after all, prison food. # Xanthe saw little of Kallias, who made changes in staffing and coordinated with Zerro for palace security during the nuptial days ahead. This disappointed her, as he nearly promised to take her to the gardens. She drew a picture of her new dresses in the margins of the book meant to be sent back to the station. Shrewdly, she decided if Kallias failed to make time for her, she could go to the gardens herself--that is, if she could remember how to navigate the catacombs to get there. Forming a ruse, she took the book and put her art supplies in a carryall, dressed in regal attire and, with a nervous stomach, set foot outside the chambers. She looked left and right, one time at each Spartan guard. "Persephone, Mysia--take me to the gardens," she wrote. The guards had no orders to the contrary. Mysia stepped in front of Xanthe and Persephone fell in behind, each with one hand on her gun and the other brandishing her shield. Xanthe’s heart lifted. All she need do is figure out how to ditch them in the gardens long enough for Stationmaster Hilliard to open the portal. At the elevator, they heard someone yell, "Handmaiden, stop!" The guards immediately pulled their weapons and in one calculated move, had Xanthe behind them with their shields held to cover her. They held the shields to protect Xanthe’s head and chest, so she could not see the man who yelled. The guards lowered their shields and holstered their weapons. Xanthe peered into the eyes of Zerro. "And where are you headed?" he asked. "We are taking the Handmaiden to the gardens," Mysia replied. "Did you ask first?"

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"We take orders from the Handmaiden," Persephone informed him. "We have no orders to keep her locked inside." "I see." Zerro folded his arms across his chest. "I think you should have asked Prince Kallias before taking this little venture," he said to Xanthe, who shrugged him off. "Very well, if you must go, I will take you." He stood next to Xanthe and the guards resumed their positions. Xanthe’s spirits lifted. With Zerro with her, she need not worry about how to ditch the guards, hiding the open portal from them. But, with Zerro with her, a new problem presented. He held his arm perpendicular to his body and Xanthe placed her hand on top of his, and she liked his touch. But, she realized the whole scene’s impropriety and stopped before they got on the elevator. "Did you forget something?" Zerro asked. She nodded and took her hand back. The entourage shifted position and led her back down to her apartment. She allowed Zerro to step inside for a brief moment. "What did you forget?" "Kallias," she replied simply. "How did you know where I was?" "My orders are to track you at all times. Your chip implant is linked to my computers." "Ah." Xanthe put her hand on his chest and pushed him toward the door. "Out. I want no rumors." Zerro looked disappointed. "Very well." As his cape disappeared before the door closed all the way, Xanthe wondered how it looked to the others occupying the halls of the military wing. She felt a need to guard Kallias’ reputation and being seen with Zerro, alone, might jeopardize it, especially on a leisurely trip to the gardens, where many lovers spent hours walking the mazes and sitting at the fountains. No, it was a trip she needed to make with the good prince. So, the palace security knew every move she made. No big surprise there, but the apartment suddenly felt smaller and more confining. Without changing clothes or worrying about wrinkles in her gown, she sprawled out on one of the couches nearest the viewscreen and turned it on, flipping through the channels, not at all impressed of the gossip stations and their speculations for the upcoming wedding. Kleitos appeared on several stations, all the same clip, but he predicted wonderful things to come, happy to be in the media spotlight. At least he was happy. Kallias came home as she channel surfed. She sat up, clicked off the viewscreen and looked at him. "I want to go to the gardens," she said. "I know, but there are so many preparations to make." "I thought you wanted off this planet," she countered. "I do." Kallias sat next to her on the couch. "Right now, though, we have to play along. If I do not make arrangements for this, what will the people think?" Xanthe rubbed her forehead. "You look very pale. Are you nervous about tomorrow?" She nodded. "Tomorrow’s the easy part. The big one is the afterglow party."

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"I know. I stupidly let the clothier make me a dress that will be very hard to sit in." "That may be a blessing. Father does not want you to occupy his throne, but he wants you close to it." "So, I will stand all night next to your father’s throne." "It looks that way, yes." "Boring." She fell sideways, letting her head rest against the arm of the chair. "Sometimes, I think the worst thing about being here is the boredom." "You are being overlooked in the details. It will not be so bad after the events. It just takes so much to coordinate an outing for you. It is nothing for Zerro to handle though, at least, after we are done with the formalities." Zerro. "Will I coordinate with Zerro or with you?" "Either of us. I do not have the insane obsession to know where you are at every moment." "Zerro does. He caught me going to the gardens." "It is Zerro’s responsibility to know where you are. Why did you not go with him?" "It looks terribly improper, Kallias. Where I need to go, there is much seclusion. I do not wish to be the target of Olympian rumors." "Oh. I suppose you are right, but I suggest you get used to Zerro. He will escort you many places in my absence." Xanthe thought about Zerro’s roving eyes. Clearly, Kallias trusted him, but was it wise? As if Kallias read her mind, his eyes narrowed. "You do not trust Zerro?" On the spot, Xanthe looked down. "My exposure to him has been limited." "But you are uncomfortable around him." Kallias sat back and looked at her. "He makes you very uncomfortable." "Kallias, I am unused to being considered as a prize sent by your gods. Perhaps he looks at me through those kind of eyes." "Just give him a chance. He has only my interests in mind," he assured her. "Surely you know how it is, being totally confident in your good looks." "No, I do not." She smoothed her hair from the forehead back. "You, no doubt, have been beautiful your entire life. Surely someone took notice." The conversation brought Zed Hurford to mind, and she cringed inwardly. "Perhaps." Again, Kallias targeted her thoughts. "Someone put themselves upon you without your consent," he gathered. "And I do not wish to discuss it." Xanthe got up suddenly, uncomfortable with Kallias’ uncanny ability to read people. "Will you join me for dinner, at least? Zerro will be here, too. The two of you must get to know each other." Xanthe stopped and turned her shoulders and head back to Kallias. "Perhaps another night. Maybe rest will ease my nerves." "Not as well as a good meal. Xanthe, everyone has noticed how much thinner you look. My father will throw a fit if he notices. Thank goodness he has been away. It is really starting to show."

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"If I gain weight, I will not fit into the afterglow dress." She already felt the corset. "You have not been using your perfumed items," he also noticed. "That has to change when you step out into public." "I understand." She resumed her course for the bedroom. "All right, all right." Kallias slapped his thighs and stood. "Join us for dinner, eat, and I will take you to the gardens. Your friends--they can see you in the dark?" Xanthe turned all the way around. "Yes." Someone knocked on the door, undoubtedly Zerro. "I promise I will take you. Just eat with us." "Okay." "I know we have spoken about this, but that is a word that must not be said." "Okay." She made a face. Kallias smiled broadly, his white teeth flashing. He stepped quickly to the door, letting Zerro in while Xanthe sat at the planning table with her hands in her lap. Zerro’s face lit up when he spied Xanthe and Xanthe immediately rethought her agreement with Kallias. He eagerly took the chair next to Xanthe’s right, not waiting for Kallias to sit as he scooted his chair closer to the end of the table, where Xanthe sat. "Kallias, I do not think she likes me," he said playfully. "She refused to go to the gardens with me." "So I have heard." Demetria entered, pushing her cart of food. She removed the domed lids and set them in the middle of the table. "Duck!" Zerro exclaimed, waiting impatiently for Demetria to serve the already-carved main course. "Why do we not have appetizers or salad first?" Xanthe wondered randomly. "We can do it that way," Kallias replied. "The two of us are always too hungry for that formality. Say it, and it will be done." "No, this is fine. I just was curious." Xanthe poked the chunks of goat cheese, a personal favorite, around her plate. The conversation dwindled as the men started eating, and Xanthe retreated further into her thoughts. Her thoughts turned to her dress for some reason. "Demetria tells me your dress is beautiful," Kallias mentioned. She looked up sharply. That made three times in the same day that he knew her thoughts. "Zerro tells me everything is set just perfect. Tomorrow, we will go see Zeus and Aphrodite before the ceremony." Kallias put his knife down. What about the litter? Xanthe asked inwardly. "I saw your litter being carried out to rehearse the procession," Zerro said. "They carried it plain, of course. Tomorrow, it will have laurels and roses all over it." Xanthe stood suddenly, knocking her metal cup to the floor. "Excuse me," she blurted and ran to her room.

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Chapter 11 The men watched Xanthe go. She nearly stumbled against her door when it opened, staggering inside, trying to control her thoughts from them. "Is she sick?" Zerro asked. "She would have run to the bathroom," Kallias replied. He got up and knocked on Xanthe’s door. "Xanthe?" "I am all right," she hollered through the door. In actuality, she lay face down on her bed. Just a coincidence, she thought. Just a coincidence. No way in hell that I can project my thoughts to others. Still, her mouth was dry and her heart pounded. She got up slowly. Collecting her wild thoughts, she sat on the side of the bed, fighting tears. Getting her journal, she straightened her hair and went back out, just in time to see Demetria clearing the table. Zerro and Kallias stared her down. "I thought of something I wanted to include in my documentation of your planet." She held up the volume shakily. "If you are ready, take me to the gardens." "I want to see this portal," Zerro said. "Please, take me along." He grabbed his helmet. The three set out with no guards, this time taking the proper way to the gardens, riding up the elevator to the main floor and going through the main portico. Xanthe held her book close to her. "Can they see you in the dark?" Zerro whispered. "Yes." She looked around the gardens for visitors, but the previous night’s rain left the ground soggy and the benches wet. # Anna rubbed her eyes and stared at the console. The computer registered Xanthe’s dimensions and she zoomed the view. "Dr. DuMontier? Stationmaster? Dr. Reynolds is in the gardens." "She’s got Zerro and Kallias with her this time," Anna informed the growing group of observers. "I love her clothes," she sighed. Fritz DuMontier leaned into the screen. "She’s losing weight." "I noticed that," the stationmaster agreed. "Are there any possible observers?" "None. The gardens are empty," Penelope disclosed. "Wait until they are at the fountain. The trees are thick there. Hopefully, they will hide the light emanating from the portal from the bastions," Hilliard ordered. "Now, Hooper, open the portal." #

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Xanthe waited by the orb as it sparked, hoping someone stepped through it, but no one did. "What are you waiting for?" Kallias asked. Sadly, she looked back at him, turned around and stepped into the portal. Once again, the gateway stayed open. Helplessly, she looked at Kallias, who simply extended his hand to her, which she slowly took. She left the book in the portal and it accepted it, collapsing upon itself. Xanthe found herself against Kallias’ chest. His hand stroked the smooth hair at her crown and planted a fond kiss there, as well. "We will get you home, Xanthe. One way or another, we will get you home." She inhaled deeply and leaned into his pecs. His promise gave her comfort and she never doubted his sincerity. With his arm around her shoulders, he led her back inside. # Sleep came and went. The pseudosun light tracked across the room, barely illuminated to simulate dawn. Demetria opened the door to find Xanthe sprawled out over the bed, fully clothed, with her shoes soiled. "Come, come, my dear. It is time." She stroked Xanthe’s hair fondly. "I will make you radiate beauty," she promised. Xanthe went directly to the bathing chambers, surprised to see Kallias up and bathed, watching the news. She watched with him for a moment, listening to the local station advertise the biggest news item of the year--their wedding. "You are as nervous as I," Xanthe concluded, watching Kallias’ hand twitch around the remote. "I have never done this before," he admitted. "Where I come, it is bad luck to see what the bride wears before the wedding," she mentioned. "I like surprises. I will probably go wait around with Kleitos and Zerro until time to go to the temples." After he rose, he put a hand on each of Xanthe’s shoulders and kissed both cheeks. "Try not to fret. I hold you to nothing." Her head bobbed up and down. "I will see you later, then." Demetria filled the tub, including bath oils from Xanthe’s own personal fragrance line. Jittery, Xanthe allowed Demetria to pamper her, for it was better than being alone with her nervousness. The fragrance line even included gold-flecked or silver-flecked body lotion, and Demetria poured some of the silver in her hands, which she slathered everywhere but Xanthe’s face. Admittedly, Kallias’ nose created a marvelous scent for her; in fact, it stimulated her appetite and she ate despite her nerves. Little thrills surprised her when Demetria sat her in front of the mirror and did her hair. Was she actually looking forward to this? Demetria smiled, patting her shoulder reassuringly. All Demetria did, really, was add some curl. Tradition dictated an uncomplicated hairdo for the wedding night, easy on the pillow. Her hair usually resisted curls, but Demetria applied certain gels and mousses and made thick ringlets all over. Demetria used dark pencil to accentuate Xanthe’s eyes, the effect making them look larger, demanding attention to her face. Just as Demetria put the finishing touches on her makeover, Anicetus made his presence known.

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"And my day was going so well," Xanthe muttered on her way out, still in her bathrobe. "Good morning, Precious One," Anicetus said, oozing charm. Xanthe rolled her eyes. "Oh, you should be happy to see me," the king sang, twirling his scepter. "I make you royalty today, Xanthe. Royalty." Xanthe said nothing. "You act as if I have taken your voice away," Anicetus glowered. "Perhaps I should." He held out his scepter and pulled it back. "No, I shall leave you with it. I want the world to see you converse with my son. Make sure you talk to him a lot today. The crowds must see this as a divine-blessed union." Anicetus studied her carefully. "Get your dress on. Kallias will meet you on the palace steps before we go to the temples." All positive anticipation evaporated. She felt naked even behind her closed bedroom door with the sound of Anicetus’ pacing footsteps intruding her personal space. Demetria straightened Xanthe’s collar. "Jewelry," Demetria reminded her as she walked toward the door. "The only things I have are the platinum earrings and matching ring," Xanthe realized, her fingers over her lips. "Do we have anything in silver that would be a good substitute?" "Do not worry. The earrings and ring are fine," Demetria assured her. "You look beautiful." "I do not feel it," she disclosed. "I feel like I should be someone else." "Good luck today, Miss." Demetria kissed each cheek. "Remember, it is Kallias, the last one who would wish you harm." She opened the door for Xanthe, who stepped out, impressing even Anicetus. The monarch covered his heart and breathed heavily. "Oh, yes." His eyes sparkled maniacally. "You look perfect." He extended his arm and Xanthe put her hand on his fist. "Everything about you should speak ‘regal,’" he reminded her. "Happily aloof." Mysia and Persephone joined another squad of guards around the door. Presumably, Zerro waited as part of Kallias’ personal protection. "Happy, happy," Anicetus chanted as they boarded the elevator. Only Persephone and Mysia accompanied them on the elevator, where a fresh squad of the bravest hoplites in all Kallias’ army waited for them to lead Xanthe to the outside. The main doors opened and Xanthe winced from the burst of sunlight. Her eyes lost their focus and she knew Kallias was there, somewhere. Blinking furiously, she relied on his soft voice to guide her blinded eyes. "Xanthe?" he breathed, taking her hand from his father. "I have a gift for you." Her hand fluttered down to her side as Zerro handed Kallias a box. Xanthe opened the lid with trembling fingers. Inside, sapphires and diamonds glistened in the sun, orchestrated into a V-shaped necklace that mirrored the exact V of her plunging neckline. "You saw the dress before," she realized. "Well, Demetria told me about it and helped me pick it out." He took the necklace from the box and Xanthe picked up her hair as he fastened it around her neck, sliding his fingers down

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to the necklace’s apex. "Damn, you are beautiful." He touched her cheek and, for the eyes of the crowd, he kissed her gently on the lips. Xanthe’s enchantment began with that soft kiss. Despite her nerves--despite her deepseated desire of wanting to leave--Kallias planted a small seed of hope that went untouched even when she noticed Zerro standing next to his best friend. She started to see Aphrodite’s wisdom. They loaded Xanthe into her litter, and down the steps they went. Kallias held her hand where it draped out of the litter and the crowd viewed her through the opened curtains of the flower-laden litter. The temples did not seem to sit so far away from the palace this time, and the hoplites kept the crowd controlled by using their shields to hold them back. Anticipation at seeing her father again put a twitter in her heart. Surely, now he would listen to her with her in a better frame of mind. Priests let her in and bowed out of the way. The smell of fresh food cooked specifically for the visit filled the antechamber. More priests opened the doors into the inner sanctum. Kallias kept a sharp eye on her. He kneeled while she left him in the front row, standing directly under the statue’s nose. The priests began their holy chants. As Xanthe wanted, a warm wind tossed her curls and she turned, watching Kallias freeze, still with his eyes locked on her. Something in his eyes held her attention and she walked toward him, taking a moment to trace his strong features with a tender finger. "You are falling for him," Zeus said. "You could do a lot worse." Xanthe spun quickly and it took another second for her garments to turn with her. "Look at you!" Zeus said proudly, coming down the stairs with his arms outstretched. "I knew you'd go with blue. You always did." "You knew about all this?" Xanthe dodged his embrace. "My life has been planned?" "We can't actually see the future." Saddened, Zeus put down his arms, foregoing the strong desire to pull his daughter to his chest. "But we beings have been around for many, many millennia. We are very good at predicting futures and even more accurate in predicting the future of a race with no outside contacts." "And how do I fit in to this? If I am of your blood, or cloud being stuff, or whatever you call yourselves--" "It interprets best as