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Science Fiction, Honors 101, Section 43

December 17, 2001

Even in the night, the desert sand was hot on the feet. He did not notice his dry throat or swollen tongue, but continued to stagger across the sandy dunes of Altamira. He was on the run. He did not know where he was running to. All he knew was that the fear of the known was greater than that of the unknown.

He forced his clouded mind to focus on the last few months to keep himself from going mad, or rather to prove to himself that he wasn’t mad. How strange it seemed that such a short time ago he was back in his familiar desert village of Altun…..

His name was Artane and he had always been an outcast. He could not remember his parents; they had died shortly after his birth and no one bothered to tell him how they died. The Villagers throughout Altun hired him for odd and menial tasks, giving him room and board in return. He lived like this for eighteen years, clinging to no one and nothing. And throughout those eighteen years he felt an unrelenting pull to become something more than what he was; a drifter among his own people. Two things were constant in his life; moving from job to job and the desert people who continually wafted into his village. They brought color into the Villagers’ gray world through their vibrant cloths, a rarity in a desert land where no plants existed for the dye to create such richness. No one in the village knew how or where these Tribe members discovered such hues, but all desired them. The Tribe members traded their cloth for raw materials and then silently vanished into the desert again. He watched them come and go throughout his life in the village, and secretly yearned to disappear with them.

It was an unspoken rule among the village peoples of Altamira that by age eighteen, young men and women had to have some form of trade to practice to benefit the village and its inhabitants. The Villagers and Heads of the village considered those without a trade to be a liability to the community. They were taken to Domed City and what became of them there, no one knew. Some said the city officials took them in compensation for the raw materials and food products the Domed City provided the villages, but this was considered mere rumor and not taken seriously.

The men came for him when the moon was pale in the sky. They knew the exact house in which he was boarding at the time, entered without a knock, and curtly told him to pack up his few possessions. He remembered thinking that anywhere would be better than where he was and enthusiastically prepared for another move among many. The men led him to a gravity floater, a transportation device of which he had heard only rumors, and whisked him across the miles of dunes.

He caught his breath as the floater first approached Domed City. Even at a distance, it appeared that half of a giant metal sphere rose out of the sand, stretching toward the endless sky. The stars in the night sky reflected off of the structure, making it glow in the surrounding darkness. He guessed that it must have spanned miles across the desert, and became elated at the thought that he might find some direction and fulfillment in his life within this shining dome and among its people.

The men directed him off of the floater and to a straight incision in the surface of the dome. The leader took a small card and placed the end of it inside the thin crack, drawing the card downward. There was a grating sound of metal against metal as an unseen portal opened on the side of the dome. They entered into the sleeping city.

He followed his silent guides, drifting through a web of shadowy streets. He saw no one as he walked, and a heavy silence penetrated the gloom. It seemed like an endless journey of twists and turns in the darkness when finally the small assembly reached a gray building at the end of a side street. The men led him through the doorway into the shadows and he remembered nothing else.

He awoke with a start on a hard mattress. His head felt thick and thoughts came with difficulty. A dull ache throbbed in his left arm as he raised himself up and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a plain, unlit room on a metal bunk. Many other beds dotted the room in the darkness with the outlines of their sleeping inhabitants barely discernable. He estimated about 100 other people slept around him. A few stirred under the thin blankets, but no one else was awake. Suddenly, the throb in his arm became intolerable and a sharp pain shot through his head. He winced and collapsed back against the pillow, falling into a deep sleep.

An artificial light shown through one of the small windows a few hours later, announcing the approaching morning. He awoke almost automatically and rose out of his bunk as the other sleeping forms began to stir. A shirt and a pair of pants made from the same coarse material hung loosely on his frame, matching the clothes of everyone else in the room. His head ached less than it did in the night, but his mind was still a murky cloud. He was aware of his surroundings, yet didn’t know how or why he was there. Strangely, he did not care. A sense of complacency overwhelmed him as he followed his colleagues out of the dorm and into a dining hall for breakfast – a bland but supposedly nourishing drink.

That first day passed like a haze. After breakfast, men in white jackets took him and nine others down several flights of steps into the heart of the city. He passed many things that at one time would have sparked his curiosity such as signs and adjoining steps and hallways. Occasionally a person in white would enter or exit through a door along the hallway, revealing the activities in the room within. He now merely noticed these things without caring, as they went deeper into the city and finally reached their destination: a great room that echoed with the mechanical hum of many generators. He knew instinctively what this place was and what he had to do. Something in his mind informed him that this was the power plant that generated the electricity required by the city and its inhabitants. It was his job to supervise Generator A for any sign of malfunction and inform his superintendent. He mechanically took his station and served his shift, watching for the signs that he now somehow knew and could recognize.

Everyday he went with his group of ten to the bowels of the city and observed Generator A for a twelve-hour shift. Occasionally something would trigger a distant memory in his mind. A sound or smell might bring brief thoughts of a different place…a blue sky

But as always, a flash of pain shot through his head, and he knew no more.

Time passed in the endless monotony and complacency of his life. He continued his daily routine of unpalatable meals, work, and sleep, punctuated by the occasional twinge in his brain. It came and went, leaving him with a blank mind and a need to continue whatever he was doing before the pain shot through his mind. It was always there, but as time went by, the pain became less and less sharp. It took longer for it to occur when he began to remember that strange place again, surrounded by sand.

He was experiencing a longer memory during breakfast one day when two men in white interrupted his thoughts instead of the pain and ordered him to follow them. He did so without question, catching snatches of the men’s conversation along the way.

"Are you sure this is him."

"Yes, certain."

"How long?

"Sixth months. He needs a new injection."

They stepped outside when suddenly the artificial sunlight flickered and the city went pitch black. The men muttered something to each other.

"Generator failure."

"It’s opening."

A deep groan resounded across the city, bringing to his mind faint memories of a time when he stood outside of the dome and watched as a metal door opened in the surface. A crack of light pierced some of the darkness high above him where the dome was. It was not the yellowish glow of reproduced light that normally filled the Domed City during daylight hours, but the radiance of a sun he once lived under when he lived somewhere else…a village in the dunes…

No pain shot through his mind now. He sensed that these men who were gazing up at the brilliant crack wanted to take this memory and all others away from him, and he had to escape somehow. Now.

He bolted into a full run. Only the surprised shouts of the two men followed him as he disappeared into the darkness. He sat down briefly in the shadows against a building to collect his scattered thoughts. He knew the lights would turn on again and he would be easily found. He could not hide in this city. He had to get out. He reasoned in his muddled mind that the most likely place to find an escape route was at the edge of the dome, and he quickly set out in the direction he felt was best. He needed to get there before someone fixed the malfunctioning generator and the whole city was lit again.

He ran at a steady pace. Occasionally the lights would flicker on again, and each time they remained lit a little longer than before. He knew he was running out of time and energy and prayed that he was nearing the end of the city and the beginning of his freedom. At last he reached the place where the dome met the ground. He placed his hand on the surface, searching for something, anything that might give him hope for escape. He walked like this for several paces as panic began to take hold. After what seemed like endless time, he felt his hand run across a bulge in the metal surface about four feet from the ground. He forced his eyes to adjust in the darkness to see what exactly it was.

It was a round hatch of some kind, small, but large enough that he could comfortably fit his head through. He groped in the darkness for something that would open this circular portal as the moan of metal on metal resounded through the city. He looked up toward the center of the city and saw the stream of light gradually diminish and disappear. They had fixed the generator and soon the lights would be on, revealing him in their artificial glow. His hand met a metal latch in the darkness, and he struggled with it with no success. Then he twisted it to the right with some force and the hatch swung open.

Light streamed from the small hole in the surface. It hurt his eyes to see such brilliance, but he forced his head through the opening. Fresh air poured into his lungs as he squirmed to force his hips through the portal. Finally he felt them slip through the hole, and he fell to the ground, landing among piles of rotten food and other garbage. He slammed the hatch quickly against the city as the lights illuminated from the dome again and waded through the rubbage and into the dunes.

That was just yesterday. And now he was in the middle of desert, without food or water or hope. He collapsed into the heat of the sand and waited for death to come.

Artane slowly awoke to the sound of voices. He felt deliciously comfortable and did not make the effort to open his eyes to put faces to the voices. He merely listened in a soothing haze. They were not monotone voices like the city officials who spoke the minimum words required, but light and almost musical.

"Will he live, do you think?"

"I believe so. I’ve given him a draught that will make him sleep for a while. We shall see in the morning."

"He’s so young. Where do you think he’s from?"

"They found him dressed like one of the city drones. He’s probably from there."

"Incredible. Their drugs should wear off soon?
"Yes. Come, let’s leave him for now. The Mawr will decide what is to be done."

He heard the light footsteps of the voices’ owners as they left and then drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

Artane woke three days later. This time he forced his eyes open to assess where he was. His eyes, which were accustomed to grayness of his village and more recently the city, dazzled at the sight. He appeared to be in a large tent and lying on a pile of great cushions on the floor. Richly colored rugs with intricate patterns surrounded him. One with weaving interlacing covered the ground so that he no longer had to step on the hot sand with his blistered feet.

At that moment, one of the curtains of the tent was drawn back and a tall girl entered. She gracefully moved through the tent and glanced at Artane.

"Ah…you’re awake." She said. Artane recognized her voice as one he heard before. "Rhi will be pleased." She smiled and exited, long green robes flowing behind her. She returned shortly afterward with an older woman. Her face had the lines of age but her eyes sparkled with untold wisdom. She bent over Artane and he smelled the fragrance of herbs around her.

"Well, my boy, how do you feel?" She asked. Artane struggled to find his voice.

"A little sore, but very hungry."

"The soreness will be gone soon. But we can take care of your hunger now. Adreane," she addressed the girl. "Bring something to eat." Adreane lightly turned on her heel and left. The older woman stood again and looked at Artane. "My name is Rhi and that was my apprentice Adreane. You are among the Kentare people. I am the healer of this Tribe and this is my family’s tent. One of our people found you a few days ago not far from the camp in the sand, left for dead. We have worked to restore you back to health and it seems as if our efforts have been rewarded. Welcome back to the land of the living. Now, what is your name?"

Artane’s voice came to him a little easier this time. "I am Artane." He struggled to remember more, but his mind was still hazy from his long sleep.

"Say no more." Rhi chimed. "Save your strength and eat. You will be strong again in a few days and then you can tell us all."

Artane spent the next two days eating the delicious foods and resting in the shade of the tent. Rhi finally proclaimed him well enough to walk about and he wandered the Kentare camp with her for a day. Men, women, and children occupied about twenty family tents. Artane was so lost in wonder that he didn’t notice the curious looks the Tribespeople gave him. Everywhere he turned he saw the bright hues of reds, yellows, greens, and blues on the tents and the long robes that the Tribe members wore. Rhi noticed his amazement and laughed.

"Ah…you Foreigners." She said with amusement. "You are so accustomed to the plainness of your world that you wonder at the beauty of ours."

"How?" He asked. "How did you come to gain such colors? As a child, I watched Tribespeople enter my village with shining robes and wondered."

"Perhaps soon you shall know our ways." Rhi responded. "But for now, enjoy what we have to offer. Our Tribal council has asked me to bring you before them when you are well enough. They wish to ask you some questions and decide what is to be done with you. Perhaps you can go home." Artane remember his village and his position there.

"I can’t go home. There is nothing for me there." He said.

"We shall see what happens." Rhi responded. "You can speak to the council tomorrow."

The next day, Rhi entered the tent with a robe of blue and new shoes.

"You must look presentable for the council today." She informed him. "The Elders will be there as well as the Mawr."

"Who?"

Rhi showed him how to tie the belt properly as she continued. "The Mawr. His true name is Dagda. He is our chief and a wise leader. The Elders did well selecting him. He has been Mawr for twenty years and will continue to guide us until his death. He decides when we move and where we shall go and decides disputes when they arise. There now. You look like true a Kentare."

Artane stood back and looked into the small mirror Rhi held up for him. It had been ages since last he had seen a reflection of himself. His seemed a healthier shade than before, and he contributed this to the good food he had eaten. His blonde hair had turned a darker color as well, almost a red. The robe was surprisingly light and airy, and it glowed a radiant sapphire as he moved. Rhi smiled at his astonishment.

"Come. They are waiting."

Artane followed Rhi to the edge of the camp to a large meeting tent. They met few people along the way and Artane wondered how a community so lively yesterday would be practically deserted now. He and Rhi entered the tent and his question was answered. It was packed from one end to the other with standing people, making the tent a sea of colors. Artane guessed there were probably over a hundred of them. Rhi told him that everyone had heard of the strange Foreigner found in the sand. At the very front of the tent was a short dais on which eleven men sat. Ten of them were ancient, with the same wrinkles as Rhi that told tales of years gone by. The corners of Rhi’s mouth formed a small, secretive smile as she indicated with a nod, "The one on the far right is my husband, Mathus. I’ve put a good word about you in his ear. The man in the middle is Dagda."

Artane caught site of the man in the center of the dais. He was probably about forty years old. There was nothing physical setting him apart as the leader of the people as he had expected. He wore no emblem of authority as the Heads of Altun did. His chair was not elevated above the elders. He did not even wear anything significantly different, although his robe was as vibrant as all the rest. However, he seemed to radiate a sense of power. Despite being younger, his face spoke of the same kind of wisdom as those surrounding him.

Artane followed Rhi through the people to the dais. As they passed, the crowd gradually became quieter and made way for them. Artane felt the gaze of many eyes on him as he approached the Mawr. By the time they reached the dais, the whole meeting tent was silent.

Rhi stood before the Mawr and said in a ringing voice, "Dagda, I have brought you Artane the Foreigner."

Dagda nodded and motioned for Artane to come forward. Rhi moved aside as he stood before the leader of the Kentare. The Mawr regarded Artane with a look that was not threatening and Artane felt at ease.

"Where are you from Artane?" Dagda was not loud, but his voice still rang with power.

"I am from a small village called Altun. However, I have just recently come from Domed City." The tent was filled with exclamations of surprise but all were silenced with a motion from the Mawr.

"How did you come there and how did you escape – for escape you had to have done. No one leaves that city."

"I did not have a trade that would benefit my village at the appropriate time." Artane replied. "The city officials took me in the night. Domed City provides for the necessities we need that we cannot make or grow ourselves. In return, they take the outcasts to work in the power plants. That’s as far as I know. There may be other places that Villagers work, but I was in the plant that generated power to run the city. I believe that I and other workers were drugged to make us complacent and forget the past. That is why I ask you to excuse me – some of my memories are still obscured. My drug dosage must have been wearing off at the time of my escape. I was becoming aware at the time of memories and danger. I escaped during a power failure through a kind of garbage chute."

A look of amusement briefly crossed the Mawr’s face. "A very creative yet probably foul way to gain your freedom, Artane. How long were you in the city?"

Artane struggled to reach deep into is memory. "I don’t think I..." Then something triggered the memory of walking outside with the men in white. They had mentioned something about…

"Wait. I believe I was there for sixth months sir. I remember the officials saying something about that."

The Mawr now looked surprised. "Sixth months is a long time. Your family and village must be concerned by now."

"I have no family sir and no connection to my village." Artane responded.

"And you have no love for Domed City?" Dagda inquired.

"None sir. I would rather die than go back there again."

"Where do you plan on going?" Dagda inquired.

"I don’t know."

"Would you consider a place among us?" The room again rumbled with the voices of many people.

Artane’s heart leaped. This was something he had always yearned for and now he actually had a chance to realize a dream. His restless spirit perhaps now could settle.

"Yes, I would sir," he fervently replied.

"Very well. The Elders and I will discuss this issue in the morning. In the meantime, you may remain with Rhi. Peace be with you Artane."

With that, the Mawr stood up and left his chair followed by the elders. The people began talking all at once as Rhi hustled Artane out of the tent.

"You did well," she said above the uproar. "Very well."

Artane spent a restless night in Rhi and Mathus’s tent. Tomorrow morning he would know if he was a member of the Kentare Tribe.

The desert sun broke over the dunes, heralding the approach of morning. Artane awoke and dressed in his sapphire blue robe. Rhi went with him to the meeting tent and he alone walked through the crowd to stand before the Dagda and his Elders.

"We have discussed your position, Artane, and have come to a conclusion," the Mawr began. "Seeing that you have no great love for Domed City and have escaped its perils, we have found a common bond with you. You have no family and no longer call Altun your home, so we invite you to call the Kentare your family and make our community your own. You shall remain with Rhi and Mathus’s household and they shall teach you about our history, our people, and our ways. Welcome Artane."

The Mawr stood up with the Elders and nodded his head in Artane’s direction in acknowledgment. The people gathered in the tent broke out in applause as the Mawr and his elders descended from the dais. When passing Artane, each one nodded their head as their leader had done. Artane turned in a trance to see Rhi and a myriad of colorfully clad people smiling and applauding him. He walked through the tent toward the exit as the Tribespeople heartily clapped him on the back. Now they were his people.

Over the next few days, Rhi introduced Artane to various Kentare people and at the same time explained the people’s way of life to him. She also showed him various healing methods using herbs and other plants he had never seen before in the village. His curiosity finally got the best of him and one day he asked Rhi about it. She smiled sadly.

"Altamira was not always desert you know. No, I guess you wouldn’t know would you. The histories are forgotten now and only the desert people keep them alive. Our planet was once a lush land with plants in abundance." Rhi looked in the distance and said more to herself than him. "Soon you shall know. Mathus has received word from the Mawr that in two days we shall be leaving this site. We will travel to meet our fellow Tribesmen, and you will hear all."

True to Rhi’s word, the Kentare decamped and left the site. In a vibrant flash of color, the Tribespeople swiftly collapsed the tents and reduced them to small, mobile sacks. If Artane hadn’t lived among them for the past two weeks, he would never have guessed the Tribespeople had ever been there.

The Kentare started to cross the desert on foot after all was ready. The few horses that traveled with the tribes carried the larger objects. No one rode. To Artane’s surprise, the Mawr did not even have a mount. He instead walked on foot among his people.

"He is our leader," Rhi explained. "But he is one of us as well."

The sun was as hot as it was when Artane last walked the desert, alone and without hope. Yet this time he did not feel the scorching rays through the light desert robe and headdress. He wondered about this, among other things such as where they were going.

"You came to us at a good time." Rhi said as if she read his thoughts. "We are going to the Remembrance. We have been traveling for over a month now. We should be there in a day or two."

Rhi’s cryptic explanation did not provide Artane with much information, but he was learning to trust her to tell him what he needed to know when he needed to know it.

The Kentare made camp before the moon began to glisten on the white sand. Artane’s throat was parched and Mathus gave him a flask to quench his thirst. Artane drank deeply of the sweet water and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He wondered how these desert people came by such water as he took another refreshing drink. He and the Villagers had only known the supplies that the city officials provided.

He inquired about it when he returned the flask to Mathus.

Mathus’s eyes twinkled as he answered Artane. "We desert people know the underground springs well. They often determine where we will make camp. We have other sources as well."

The next day brought the sun and the heat that Artane now barely noticed. The Kentare set out again. Rhi estimated that before the sunset, they would have arrived at the destination. Artane walked in silence for most of the day, quenching his thirst occasionally from Mathus’s flask. Much of his memory erased during his ordeal at Domed City had returned, but he still felt that he had missing pieces of the past to find. He also noticed that his persistent feeling of restlessness had not completely disappeared in the company of the Kentare, but it had certainly subsided. He still thought about it, but it no longer ached within him.

The blazing sun was approaching the horizon, when Rhi’s voice called him back from his thoughts.

"We’re here."

Artane looked up to see a huge mass of rock rising before him out of the sand. It reminded him of the dome, but slightly smaller and not metal. It too appeared to be hollow, but there was a huge opening in one of its sides, making entering and exiting much easier than Domed City.

"I see that we are not the first ones to arrive." Artane followed Rhi’s gaze and noticed the hundreds of footprints that went before them, every one leading to the rock.

"What is this?" Artane asked with a hint of wonder in his voice. "Where are we going?"

"We’re not going anywhere anymore. We’ve already arrived. This is Llogress Cavern. We are celebrating the Remembrance, an annual meeting when the desert Tribes of the land gather here. Be patient and you will see."

The Kentare entered the cave and Artane felt his breath catch. He did not stand at the opening of a dark grotto as he initially expected, but at mouth of a fully lit and bustling cave. It stretched farther back than Artane could see. He guessed that it probably sloped downward into the ground to lower caverns, but he could not tell from his vantage point. The walls reverberated with the voices of over a thousand people as a flourish of colorful tents stretched before his eyes. He glanced upward and saw the source of the light. Countless tiny fissures in the ceiling of the cave allowed the light of the setting sun to shine into what would have been darkness. Already several small campfires had begun, making bizarre reflections on the walls.

Rhi’s laughter chimed behind him as she noticed his amazement.

"These are the other Tribes of the desert. There are twelve all together and it appears that most of them are already here. Come, we will find our place."

The Kentare people passed through the cave. Several of the other Tribespeople called out greetings to some of the Kentare members who hailed their old comrades in return. The Tribe reached a clearing on the sandy ground and began to set up the tents. Artane helped Rhi and Mathus in a daze.

The cave smelled of rich foods that night as the people cooked their meals. The remaining two Tribes arrived and made camp. Artane barely touched his food as he watched all that was around him. Occasionally he saw people pass into the deeper parts of the cave with satchels and return a while later. Lost in his thoughts, Artane did not hear Mathus ask his wife a question and her response.

"Does he know yet?"

"No, not yet. Wait a little."

A loud clanging resounded throughout the cave, and the various Tribespeople began to flock toward a clearing in the center.

"Come," Rhi said. ‘It is time for you to learn what this gathering is about."

Artane followed Rhi and the rest of the Kentare to the middle of the cave and sat on the sandy floor. All the tribes had gathered facing a blazing fire at the mouth of the cave. All was silent except for the crackling of the flames and an occasional baby’s cry.

A few moments later Artane saw the cause for this waiting and expectation. A bent man slowly approached the fire. The care of many years weighed on him, but even at a distance, Artane could see that his eyes were keen and bright with infinite knowledge. There was a slight stirring among the crowd as they anticipated what was to come.

The man stood beside the fire. He slowly lifted his head and straightened his back, appearing to be tall and noble in the firelight. He then took a deep breath and spoke with surprising strength. "Hail, Lovers of Freedom!"

The cave boomed around Artane as every man, woman, and child responded, "Hail, good Bard!"

And then all was silent again in quiet anticipation as the old man closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were more brilliant than before. Bard began.

"We gather again today to keep alive the past – not just our own, but that of all Altamira. We do this so that our children may continue remember, and perhaps prevent. Hear and understand.

‘Altamira was not always covered in the fiery sands of dunes. Many years before our parents’ day, this planet was lush with vegetation. Rich hues of various plants blanketed the land instead of the continuous blazing white that assaults our eyes today. The first people of our planet walked the land during this time. No one is certain of their origin, but their legend and that of the settlement they eventually formed continue today.

‘The years passed accompanied by the endless growth of knowledge and population. The people continually made advancements in their lives. The settlement became a city that thrived in ideas and opinions. However, not all opinions match as we know, and this was true even then in the great city.

The crowd murmured in agreement. They had heard this story many times before, but it seemed that they never exhausted of it. Bard continued.

"Disagreements eventually formed over how to govern the city. Great machines now dominated much of the work within the city, but they were only machines that still needed to be created and maintained. One faction of leaders desired to have the people choose their occupation within the city. Some could build and others would maintain, but the choice was left to the people. An elected governor with council of advisors would supervise, but not control activities within the city.

The opposite faction favored a powerful dictator who regulated the peoples’ lives, including what their occupation was. Certain people would be trained for certain roles and the government would choose who did what. This party gradually grew in strength, outnumbering and overpowering any opposition. Those who disagreed were forced to leave the city in disgust. They eventually formed their own settlement that was based on the ideals and government that had originally caused them to abandon their former home.

‘The settlement never became as advanced as the city. However, the people living there did not feel their lives were lacking in any way. They had something they held in even higher regard above the technology they once possessed." The old man paused briefly. "They had their freedom."

The people uttered a unified sound of agreement as Bard continued.

‘Those living under the dictatorship of the city knew about the lives that inhabitants of the settlement enjoyed and became disgruntled and dissatisfied over time with their own. The dictator now controlled the information available to them as well as their lives. He sensed the discontentment sweeping through his city, and fear struck his heart. He therefore acted to stomp out the opposing force of the settlement to squelch any possible uprising within his own city.

‘The dictator ordered a great dome to be built over the city, explaining that it was meant to help control the environment and make life easier. It was almost as if the people lived within a large metal cave, cold and sterile."

Artane traveled back into memory, and he remembered the night when he saw the dome for the first time with the stars reflecting off of it. Now he was learning the history behind that glittering place, and he eagerly listened to each word the old man said.

"The knowledge in the city had grown much over the years, and the dictator took advantage of the new research. He requested a special poison to be made that could be released into the air and easily wipe out thousands of people. With his city safely covered, it was possible for him to easily wipe out any opposition outside. The rebellion that was stirring within the city inhabitants would be replaced with fear and no one would question his power again."

No one stirred within the cave. All focused on Bard and his words, including Artane.

"Despite the great information available to the dictator’s men, a mistake was made in making this poison. Those working on its development meant for it to target the human system and allow plant life to remain. However, these men unknowingly created a poison that was not as deadly to humans as intended but more so to plants.

‘The poison was carried through the air by flying objects, with the settlement as its main target. Some survived the attack and escaped the destroyed city into the wilderness in small groups. No one dared create another settlement knowing that it would be a target for another attack. These wandering people eventually formed individual nomadic groups. All plant life was thought to be killed in the attack, and the land gradually became desert. Occasionally a few traveling survivors tired of their nomadic lives and settled in small villages. And to this day, the city is ruled by one, all powerful man."

The old man’s voice now became louder than before, shaking with emotion as he continued his narration.

"We gather to remember this day when many died and renew the hope that such an event will never occur again. We also gather to remember and celebrate our heritage. We are the proud descendants of those who originally desired independence and did not fear leaving familiarity to establish it elsewhere." Bard’s voice gradually grew in volume and impact. "We are the descendants of those who bravely survived the dictator’s attack. We are the descendants, who today, not only keep this memory alive, but also a small precious piece of the past. Remember and continue to grow until we meet again."

The cave echoed with his last words for several moments. Bard fell silent and bowed his head. The weight of many years returned as he quietly shuffled away from the fire and through the still Tribespeople. Artane tried to grasp the history he had just heard. The Villagers never told him how the Domed City, or the Tribespeople, or even the very villages that dotted the desert came about. He wondered why, and realized that they probably did not know – did not remember. Here, in this place and among these people, Artane now learned the history of Altamira.

The people around him quietly stood up and began to follow the old man. Rhi and Mathus interrupted his thoughts. "Artane, come. You must see something."

Artane got up and followed them with the rest of the Tribespeople into the depths of the cave. He felt the floor slope downward in the darkness, but it seemed as if the ceiling remained at a constant level. They walked farther into the bowels of the cavern, lit only by the few torches the people held. He continued to follow when the Tribespeople stopped abruptly, and Artane forced his eyes to focus on the subject of their gaze.

There was no more need for the torches. The moon must have been directly above the cave, for silver light poured from the tiny fissures in the ceiling high above him, illuminating the darkness. He felt something tweak a memory in the back of his mind. Once before he had seen a stream of bright light piercing surrounding gloom…it seemed so long ago…

"We’re here." Rhi’s quiet whispered interrupted his memories and seemed to echo through the cave.

What Artane saw in this light astounded him. He stood at the edge of an underground cliff. Below him lay a vast cavern that was covered with splendid colors. These were not the colors of tents, but something different…plants? Artane had seen plants before in the village. There were a few that grew in the desert, but these were coarse and often ugly. The vegetation that now lay at his feet blossomed in various hues.

"You wanted to know how we came about our colors and herbs, Artane." Rhi whispered in his ear. "Now you know our greatest secret. Come."

"How…?" Artane began to gasp in wonder.

"Hush. Not now. I will explain everything when we are back at the tents. For now, just follow and watch."

.

Artane did as instructed and followed Rhi and the rest of the Tribespeople down what seemed to be roughly cut steps on the side of the cliff. He placed his hand on the side of the cliff for balance, and something caught his eye as he did so. There were colors on the face of the cliffs along the sides, almost as if the wall was painted. However, in the silver light Artane could not make out what shapes the colors formed. He resolved to ask Rhi about it later.

The Tribespeople silently continued down the stairs and into the basin of the cavern. There were indeed plants of every kind here. Blues, purples, reds, yellows and every shade blanketed the floor. Some had blossoms and some had only leaves. Still others bore fruits that emitted a sweet smell and caused Artane’s mouth to water. The people moved gracefully throughout the plants and gathered a few in their arms. Then they silently ascended back up the cliff.

Artane followed Rhi and Mathus and watched as they silently selected and gathered. When they were finished he walked back with them to their tent. Rhi hung two of the blossoms from two corners of the tent. All was done in silence.

When they entered the tent, Rhi spoke.

"Artane, you look rather puzzled – and well you should be. You have just seen something that no one who is not Tribal born would view. Yet we have accepted you into the Kentare and you shall therefore know our ways."

"How did that come to be – the plants and the cavern?"

Rhi chuckled at his amazement and responded. "When the settlement was wiped out, the remaining survivors left, taking with them what they could carry. A few brought seeds with them. They planted these seeds deep within caverns throughout the land in hope the small light from the ceiling would be enough to help them grow instead of killing them as the desert sun would have. This light, combined with the underground springs, allowed for growth and over the years they have multiplied into what you saw just now. There are other caves throughout the land that shelter other plants as well. That is where we get the dyes to make the many colors you now see. These plants also grow the fruits and grains we use in those meals you’ve been enjoying and the fibers to make the light robe you are even now wearing. We believe that one day these plants will be hardy enough to grow in the open desert again – but that day is still in the distant future if it exists. Once a year all the Tribes come to this cavern because it is the largest and can shelter us all. We go into the cavern, pluck a few blossoms and hang them on our tents in remembrance of the past and those who died."

"I saw paintings on the walls as well. I could not get a good look – what were those of?"

"Ahh – I will show you. Bring a torch." Rhi instructed.

Artane did as Rhi said and followed her back into the depths of the cave. All the Tribespeople had left and only the quiet shuffling of Rhi and Artane’s feet could be heard. Rhi began the descent down the stairs, holding the torch close to the face of the cliff.

"This is our history - an illustrated version I suppose you could call it. You can probably tell Artane that we have a deep fear of forgetting the past, and it is a well-founded fear. So many don’t know how Altamira came to be like this, including your own village I think. Several years ago we used the dyes from the plants to paint a version of the oral story you just told. The walls here seemed like a good location, considering we use this cavern in a ceremony to remember the past."

Artane looked at the walls in the flickering light of the torch and saw the story Bard told in pictures. He recognized the plants at the beginning of the world. Artane continued down the steps and saw the city and the settlement depicted on the wall. Several steps farther was a dome – the Domed City. Artane looked a few feet across from Domed City and saw the settlement destroyed. Then he saw something in the middle of Domed City and the settlement – something in the air that was long, silver, and cylindrical – something that sparked a memory from his time in the Domed City.

"What is this?" He asked Rhi, pointing.

"We’re not sure what it was called. All we know is that it was used to carry the poison to the settlement."

Artane silently nodded as he struggled to delve back into his memory. Where had he seen this before? Rhi began to ascend the steps again and Artane turned to follow her, still pondering what he had just seen.

The memories still tugged at Artane when he collapsed on the cushions that night, refusing to go away or allow him to find sleep. He thought back to earlier that evening when he saw the shimmering light of the moon shine through the cracks in the ceiling. He knew he had seen it before, in Domed City. He had been walking in the darkness of the streets with two men. There was a noise. Something loud – something metallic. Then a light shown down on them. The men had said something - what was it? Something about generators. What did they say? He struggled to think. Generator. Generator. Generator. Then the memory flashed into his brain in full detail.

"Generator failure. It’s opening."

Artane suddenly understood – the dome opened at that time because of the generator failure. The generators controlled all power in the city – including the dome. But why would the dictator want the dome to open? Certainly not to let anyone in or out. Perhaps he wanted to let an object in or out – what would it be? Artane thought back to the drawings on the wall - perhaps the silver cylinder that wiped out the settlement?

The silver cylinder. He had seen that too while in the city. Where? He knew he wouldn’t have seen it in the dorms. He must have caught a glimpse of it elsewhere. In the generator room? No. On the way to the generator room? He thought about how he mechanically descended down the steps into the bowels of the city to work everyday. There had been signs and doors along the way….

Doors.

Doors that occasionally opened.

Doors that led where? He only had glimpses when the men in white entered and exited. Glimpses of the rooms. Glimpses of what was inside. Metal tubes…silver cylinders!

The realization hit Artane like a brick in his stomach. What were they doing with those? Could they be planning another attack on these independent people – this time wiping them out permanently? Why? If that was the case – how could they be stopped? What about the dome- did they really use the opening in the past to send out the first cylinder?

Questions plagued Artane as he got up and walked to where Rhi and Mathus were sleeping. He woke them from a sound slumber to tell them his memories and his concern. When he had finished, Mathus released a long sigh and spoke.

"We have hoped all these years that the dictator either thought us dead or too insignificant to concern himself over our existence. Apparently we’ve been wrong. The Tribal Mawrs must be called together in meeting tomorrow to hear this. Artane, you will relate what you have just told me to the chiefs in their council. Sleep now, for tomorrow brings new worries into our lives."

Artane felt slightly relieved as he returned to the cushions now that someone else shared in his knowledge. His mind was a bit clearer now, but sleep still was far away. Artane began to examine his thoughts in the darkness. He did not even notice the faint light of the sun several hours later. Morning found Artane still awake and with what he thought might be a way to stop the attack.

Mathus rose early and silently returned a little while later, pulling Artane from his thoughts.

"The council will be gathering in one half an hour. Get up in and ready yourself."

Artane donned his sapphire robe. He could now tie the belt without the help of Rhi, and did so deftly like a true Tribesman. He followed Mathus through the myriad of colorful tents. Much of the camp was still asleep, giving the cave a peaceful silence. Artane looked up at the roof of the cave and saw the light of the rising sun’s rays beginning to peak through the fissures. That was the key. Mathus eventually stopped outside one of the tents and turned to Artane.

"This is Ilan’s tent. He is the Mawr of the Meeltid tribe. It is here that we shall hold council. Remember to tell them all that you told me."

Mathus entered the tent and Artane followed. His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the tent, and he saw that he stood before a line of twelve men, each seated on their own cushion and each looking just as grave the person sitting next to him.

"Good Mawrs," Mathus began in his, calm voice. "I have brought Artane, Son of the Kentare tribe, to you. It is my belief that he has information that is of the utmost importance to you and all Tribespeople."

Mathus stepped back after he had finished, leaving Artane to stand before the council. The Mawr in the center spoke, addressing Artane.

"Artane, Mathus has told us that you bear vital news concerning Domed City and us. Please enlighten us."

Artane looked at the man who had spoken. He appeared to be the oldest of the Mawrs and he regarded Artane with a stern, yet not unfriendly gaze. Artane felt a surge of confidence swell inside of him and he stepped forward.

"Good Mawrs," Artane said in a clear and powerful voice that surprised even him. "Thank you for hearing me. I first must briefly explain a little about my past so that my information will be credible to you. I was born in a small desert village where I grew up an orphan and a drifter. About seven months ago, I was taken from my village by Domed City officials where I was made to operate the machines that provided the city with power. I escaped through a garbage hatch and was found and accepted by the Kentare people. I remember my experiences in the city in small pieces because I was drugged to wipe out any thought process except for the operation of the machines. However, certain things may trigger certain memories concerning what I saw in the city, and that is what I come to you about today.

‘This was my first Remembrance gathering and my first time in this or any cave. I listened to Bard’s story intently and later saw the wall with his tale illustrated. I saw the silver cylinders that he spoke of that destroyed the first settlement on that wall, and that brought back a memory from my days in the city." Artane briefly paused to consider the impact his next words were going to have.

"I saw those cylinders in the city when I was there."

There was a brief silence as the Mawrs felt the weight of the words Artane had just spoken. Then they all began talking in hurried voices. Above the jumble of words, Artane could hear many of the same questions he had asked himself the night before and also answered. Then the oldest Mawr who Artane now believed was Ilan silenced them with an upraised hand and turned to Artane.

"Your news is certainly serious. Your words, if true, may affect all people living outside of Domed City, Tribespeople and Villagers alike. Are you certain of what you saw and that the Domed City wishes to attack us?"

"I am certain of the cylinders." Artane replied. "As to whether or not the dictator wishes to attack, I am not sure. However, it is something I believe you should consider."

"You speak wisely Artane, if not a little boldly," Ilan responded. "I understand what you say, but I am still hesitant to believe that the dictator wishes to wipe us out. How would he know we still existed? The desert is so vast and we have little contact with those who are not of our own."

Artane had a ready response, one he had wrestled with all night. "You have little contact, yes, but you still have contact. I grew up in a village. Occasionally I saw Tribespeople enter my village to trade for certain goods. They appeared from the desert and disappeared back into it, but most of my village knew or heard about them. We traded with these Tribespeople, but we also traded with Domed City for many necessities. It was only a question of time before the dictator would learn of your existence though his city officials. Perhaps he has known all along and just now decided to act upon the ancient, festering hatred he and his predecessors have held against you, your ancestors, and your freedom. Bard said that the city dwellers once were discontent with their lives. Perhaps they are again. An attack would distract them from their unhappiness and renew that fear they held after the first assault. Perhaps now the dictator has developed a poison that will wipe out all people outside of his domain, not just some. "

The Mawrs stirred in their seats as Artane’s words had their affect. Ilan broke the silence as he spoke more to himself than anyone else.

"Something must be done if this is the case. We must not go to our deaths in silence, though I doubt we have much of a chance against Domed City and its power."

"Yes, you have a very good chance."

All eyes turned to Artane who stood tall in the center of the tent before the Mawrs.

"Explain yourself, Artane," Ilan ordered. "Are you saying we can fight and defeat the dictator and his weapons?"

"Fight – no." Artane stated. His lack of sleep had not gone unrewarded for now he knew what had to be done. "We would be completely obliterated. We cannot interfere with the poison or the cylinders themselves. That would be too dangerous and we’d risk discharging the toxins accidentally. However, we can make the dictator not want to release his poisons, at least for a time being if not permanently. I have told you only one memory that was triggered during my stay here. I had another. Last night I accompanied the camp into the depths of the cave and saw the moon’s light come through the small cracks in the ceiling. I knew I had seen a bright light once before in darkness and tried to remember where. Last night I realized I had seen it under the dome. The dome itself had actually opened once when I was there – a small crack, but enough to let in the light. I was with several city officials at that time, on my way to get a new dosage of drugs since my last one was beginning to wear off. I heard them attribute the crack to one of the power machine’s failure. At the time, this event and its cause did not hold much significance to me because I was still under the influence of the drug. However, now I see salvation for us through it.

‘The dome can open. This was probably how the first dictator released the cylinders, sending the metal tubes through the opening and closing the dome once they were airborne. The city’s inhabitants would also need a way to escape if there was an emergency in the city, perhaps a fire. The dome is controlled by the power machines I once worked. When these machines do not run properly, everything in the city that is controlled by the power they produce stops or malfunctions, including the dome by opening."

The Mawrs listened intently as Artane continued.

"If the dome opened permanently, the dictator would have no protection for his city or people. He could not send out his poisons without threatening his own life."

A flicker of hope crossed over the faces of Artane’s audience as the Ilan asked, "Could this be done?"

"I know these power machines." Artane replied. "They were my life’s meaning for six months, and I am sure that I will be able to deactivate them. I believe I can reenter the city through the way I exited it. The city is deserted at night with little activity. That would be the best time."

Artane heard Mathus behind him give a startled sound in reaction to his suggestion. Artane had not breathed a word to anyone of his plan until now. He looked closely at the council for their response. All had surprised expressions on their faces, but Ilan was nodding in agreement and spoke.

"I see you have thought this through carefully, young Artane. I believe given the circumstances that your suggestion is the best and only option open to us now. However, let my fellow Mawrs and I withdraw for a time and return with our decision. You and Mathus may wait here."

Ilan and the other chiefs stood up and went deeper within the tent behind a deep red curtain. Artane remained standing as he was before the Mawrs left. Mathus stepped forward to stand beside him, but said nothing. He did not need to say anything. His thoughts and feelings of mixed shock and pride were written on his lined face.

The Mawrs returned shortly after they had left Artane and Mathus. Their faces were grave but resolved as they sat down again.

"We have discussed all that you have said and have come to a decision." Ilan began. "We agree that the threat of these cylinders is too important to overlook and something must be done. Your suggestion is the most practical. We cannot attack Domed City from the outside so we therefore must strike its interior by surprise. You are the only one among our company that has seen the inside of the city and knows its ways. You therefore will be in charge of seeing that the dome is opened. We will provide you with one man from each of our Tribes to assist you."

It was now Artane’s turn to be surprised. "I thank you for your permission and generous offer of help, good Mawr," he said. "However, I believe that I will best be able to do this on my own."

Artane detected a slight smile curve at Ilan’s lips as he replied to Artane’s assertion. "I admire your courage Artane, but you forget that all desert people have lived under the shadow of Domed City for generations. If a strike against this old aggressor is to be made, all desert people should be represented. There is also another issue you may want to consider. You have lived among the Kentare and have become familiar with the Tribespeople’s ways. However, I don‘t believe that you have become completely familiar with the desert. Do you know where Domed City is in relation to this cave?"

The truth of what Ilan said hit Artane, and he grew red at the thought of his foolishness. Ilan laughed now, breaking the tension that weighed heavily in the tent.

"You needn’t be ashamed, Artane. It is good that you have the confidence that you do, but it is wise to accept the help of friends. Each Mawr will hold council with his Elders tonight and choose who will be selected from his Tribe to accompany you. It is about 2 days journey from here to Domed City. You may expect a message tomorrow when your companions have been chosen and are gathered. We will provide what you will need for this expedition. Give it some thought this evening."

Artane nodded. "I will sir."

"I wish you peace until our paths cross tomorrow." Ilan said as he and the other chiefs rose. Artane and Mathus returned the farewell and left the tent.

Artane lay silently awake that evening among the cushions. He stretched his mind to determine how he could do irreparable damage to the generators quickly. He could barely remember the shape of the generators let alone what made them work. Perhaps when he saw them again in the depths of the city he would understand what had to be done. Other questions kept peaceful sleep at bay for Artane. Once he had entered the city, how would he find his way again to the entrance of the generator rooms? He remembered the first time he entered the city with the officials. They had moved toward the center of the city. It would make sense if the generators that controlled the power of the city were in the middle of it. Artane hoped that he would remember his way back just as he remembered the dome and the cylinders. What would happen when the dome did open? How would the city inhabitants react? Artane forced himself to focus on the more pressing issue – disabling the dome. In the end, he did not find the answers to his questions but resolved that there was no other option but for him to enter the city and do what he could to save a people who had accepted him. Sleep eventually found him.

Artane awoke as the morning light poured into the open tent flap. Mathus stood in the entranceway, looking down at Artane.

"I see you’re up. Good morning. The messenger from the council just left. They are ready for you. You are to go to Ilan’s tent."

Artane rose and dressed himself. He and Mathus crossed through the camp as people were just beginning to wake up and walk about. A few of the Kentare recognized him and acknowledged him with a courteous nod as he passed by.

Artane and Mathus reached Ilan’s tent and entered. It was much more crowded than it was the day before, with each Mawr seated on the cushions and a man standing behind him, except for Dagda. There was no one standing behind him, and Artane realized that he was the representative for the Kentare people.

"Artane," Ilan began. "The council of each Tribe has chosen one man to represent it."

Ilan made a gesture with his hand and the first man gave his name and Tribe. Artane stood as all twelve men proudly announced themselves. They were all about Artane’s age or slightly older, and all had a quiet zeal burning in their eyes that Artane recognized as a part of himself as well. When the last man had spoken, Artane stepped forward.

"I am Artane, Son of the Kentare."

Son of the Kentare. The title felt wonderful as he said it. Even among Altun, the village of his birth and childhood, he had never been anyone’s son. And now here he was, representing an entire people in a fight against Domed City. Artane glanced at Dagda after he said his name, and saw a slight nod of approval.

"We have informed these men about the mission you are about to embark on. They understand that you will lead them in this expedition and that they will do what you say. Is there anything that you will require?"

"Yes." Artane responded. "We need enough food and supplies to last the journey to and from Domed City. I also need a long, thin object, if this is possible. It must be durable and strong – not easily bent."

Ilan regarded Artane with a look of surprise. "Is this all?"

"Yes, sir. It is."

"Very well. We will accommodate you. I assume you wish to leave soon?" Ilan inquired.

"I do. I planned on leaving early tomorrow morning. That will give us time to gather supplies and rest before our journey. We should arrive at Domed City on the morning of the third day. We will wait until nightfall to enter the city."

Ilan nodded his approval. "There is one other thing," he began. "My fellow Mawrs and I have decided that we shall lead our people to Domed City after you and your companions depart. We will prepare all day tomorrow for the journey and leave Llogress in the evening so that we may see the result of this brave plan. It is the time of the Remembrance. What better way to honor those who died so long ago than to see the dome opened and a second attack prevented."

Artane was surprised at Ilan’s suggestion. "I am honored that you hold this expedition in such high confidence sir. However, there is a great possibility that we may fail, and the dome will be whole when you arrive."

"If that is the case, Artane," Ilan said gravely. "We shall remember not only those we lost years ago, but also the brave men we lost in the struggle against Domed City. The Mawrs and Elders of each Tribe with inform their people of the situation after you have left tomorrow morning so that you may depart quietly and quickly. You and your men will stay here tonight and leave when the sun rises."

There was little more to say. The Mawrs departed to their separate camps and Tribes. When Dagda passed Artane, he briefly took Artane’s hand in his own. The Kentare Mawr looked Artane in the eye and quietly spoke.

"Until we meet again, peace be with you, Son of the Kentare."

And then he was gone.

Ilan’s people brought extra cushions for Artane and his new companions to sleep on. For the first time, Artane felt the unrelenting tug he had known since childhood ease as though his destiny was at hand. He quickly fell into a peaceful sleep, something that had eluded for days.

Artane was up before the sun peaked above the hills. He awoke the eleven other men and they ate a short meal. The supplies Artane had requested were at the entrance of the tent, including an ax with a wooden handle the length of his arm. Artane smiled in satisfaction.

Ilan emerged behind the back curtain and stood among the twelve men.

"Is all as you needed?" He asked.

Artane confirmed that it was.

"Then go in peace." Ilan stood at the tent flap as the men left, a look of pride and concern written across his face.

Artane and his companions spoke little the first few miles of their journey. Each man had his own thoughts as he contemplated the task ahead, and he did not care to share with the others. However, as the sun reached its height in the sky, Artane and the men began to speak. Artane told them of his past experiences, of which the others had heard only a brief outline when their Mawr and Elders briefed them of their duty. They were amazed at his diverse life since they had only known their own Tribe since birth. Artane noticed that they expressed only amazement and not a hint of envy. They were a proud people, content in their desert life. After Artane had finished his story, the men began their own. They all had lived as nomads, traveling across the desert from cavern to cavern, but each one spoke of various customs within their Tribes. They were similar, yet different in their traditions and personalities, as Artane began to realize from their conversation. Some were talkative, others were not, but all desired a peaceful life among their Tribes.

The first night was uneventful. The men quickly set up the tents and fell asleep, weary from their day’s travels. They rose the next day before the sun was up and began their journey and after a brief breakfast. The men talked at intervals among themselves, but any conversation had tension weighing it down. Everyone knew that by the same time tomorrow they would have reached Domed City and begun the plans for their operation.

The small group of travelers set up camp that night about five miles from Domed City. The silver glint of the dome could be seen from their position on the dunes and the men grew silent at the site of it. They sat around the fire that evening, their eyes focused on nothing in particular as they though about tomorrow.

"The Mawrs and people are probably not far from us now. They left yesterday evening." Someone absently said. It was Dwri of the Luap. A few men acknowledged this with grunts. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, remembering why and for whom they were risking their lives tomorrow.

The company awoke the next day and took their time preparing their meals. It was only a short distance now to the Dome. They ate in silence. Artane took that time to review the plan to his men.

"We are entering the city tonight under the cover of darkness. There are several outlets on the dome’s surface that are used for garbage disposal. That is the way we are going to enter the city. Dwri and Kirck, will stand by the portal outside to make sure nothing interferes with our escape route in case our plan fails. The rest of you will come with me into the city. The inhabitants are not on the streets in the evening, but stealth is still important. You will follow me to the room where the machines are. We will probably run into opposition there since people observe the machines night and day. You will do whatever you can to keep anyone from preventing me from getting to the machines. If we succeed, the dome will open fully. If we fail, we will not see any change. In both cases, head toward the edge of the dome and try to find the portal that we entered through. Dwri and Kirck will watch for you. Is all clear?"

The eleven men had their eyes fixed on Artane as he spoke and nodded in agreement.

"Good. We should pack and be on our way. When we are closer to the dome, look for piles of garbage that may indicate a portal."

The men collapsed the tents and started off across the dunes, the dome getting closer and closer with each step. Nothing was said now and all was silent except for the crunch of the sand beneath their feet. It was a few hours past midday when they reached the last dune overlooking the dome below. Artane saw the dome in full sunlight now. It did not seem as splendid as it did when he first saw it under the sky. The metal was not the shining silver he remembered, but a dull gray with large patches of rusty reds. Garbage dotted the sand in several places, revealing several options of entranceway. Artane smiled to himself. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about finding a way in anymore.

Artane took out the ax from his pack and left everything else on the side of the dune. His men did the same, leaving the tent sacks and everything else in the sand. Now all that was left to do was wait - and hope.

Time crawled on. A few men slept in the heat of the sand. Finally the sun disappeared and the sky grew darker with each passing minute. Artane watched as the moon rose higher in the sky. It was a complete sphere tonight, round and shining silver. It was time.

Artane nudged his sleeping men and grabbed the ax. He silently motioned for them to descend the dune toward the dome. Artane could feel his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he slid down the sand and wondered if his companions could hear it.

The group reached the end of the dune and stood twenty meters from the dome. Artane chose the closest portal surrounded by garbage and rapidly set out for it, followed by his men. They silently waded through the garbage that rose to their thighs and reached the small circular opening in the surface. Artane took the flat, sharp end of the ax and wedged it between the hatch and the side of the dome. He pushed all of his weight on the other end, listening for any sound that might indicate the door was opening. Artane strained against the ax and heard what he wanted. A slight creak of metal sounded in the darkness as he felt the ax give a little. Artane continued to force all of his weight on the other end and finally the inner latch of the portal snapped, causing the door to open.

Artane motioned for his men to go in. Dwri and Kirck remained outside and helped Artane through the hole after everyone else had gone inside the darkness of the city. Artane joined his friends on the other side of the dome and felt a need for the ax. He stuck his hand through the portal, and motioned to Dwri who gave it to him. Artane took a moment to get his bearings and noticed the stale smell of the air. It never had bothered him before, but now after he had experienced the fresh air of the desert it seemed to assault his nostrils.

Artane could see his companions turn to look at him in the darkness. They looked to him for direction now. He instinctively turned toward the center of the city and began to briskly walk between the buildings. He did not know where he was going, but his feet seemed to recognize the path and the nine other men followed close behind him.

The group quietly approached the middle of the city. Artane was right, there was hardly anyone about. Only once did they encounter an inhabitant. Artane rounded a corner and nearly bumped into a man on the other side of the building. His hair was thin and cut short, showing an unhealthy color of gray skin and he hunched in his posture. His clothes were not what the city workers wore, and they hung loosely on his slight frame. Artane nearly collided with the man and feared that he would alert others, but the man said nothing. His glazed eyes did not register any kind surprise, and he continued to wander off in a trance.

Artane felt a wave of relief sweep over him. Then the significance of what just happened hit him. That man was not a city worker or a city official. He was most likely a city dweller. And he was drugged. So now the dictator drugged citizens as well as workers.

The men continued to advance closer to the center of the city. Artane could now feel the ground vibrate beneath his feet and hear the familiar hum. The generators. He knew the entranceway was somewhere near; he had descended those stairs everyday for six months. Artane looked to his right and scanned the darkness, straining his eyes to see what he was searching for. There it was. A small gray building. A streak of white artificial light shown through the crack, and Artane knew that behind that door were the stairs leading deep within the city. He motioned the other nine to gather around him and he spoke in the lightest of whispers. Even with the humming breaking the silence, Artane still felt as if he was shouting.

"We’ve found the entranceway to the room with machines." He indicated in its direction with a quick gesture. " The room is beneath us where you hear the noise. Remember, it is of the greatest importance that I get to those machines. Head back toward the portal if we are separated. Good luck."

No one said a word, but Artane could tell from their eyes that they understood and were ready to follow him. He stood erect in the center of the city and advanced toward the door. He carefully pried it open with the ax like he did the garbage hatch. This door required less effort, and it swung open without so much as a creak. White light poured out of the door, not the bright light of the sun that Artane had grown to know and love, but that of artificial sources. Artane remembered that light, and he briefly paused at the doorway to give himself and his men time to adjust their eyes.

The familiar staircase that Artane had descended and ascended so many times lay before him. He heard the mechanical rumble coming from below, and the white ground and walls seemed to tremble with the vibrations. Artane stepped down the first step and then the next, focusing on what he had to do. He could hear the others follow close behind him and now took comfort in knowing that he was not alone.

The men continued to descend into the depths of the city with the noise of the machines growing louder with each step. They had met with no resistance so far and Artane was relieved at the thought that reaching the generator room might be easier than he had expected. He allowed himself to briefly glance at the white, sterile doors on either side of the stairs. He now knew what lay behind some of those doors, and he felt a slight shudder run through his body.

The hum rang in their ears, and Artane knew they were almost in the core of the city where the generators lay. He was considering this when he heard the door behind him abruptly swing open. Artane quickly spun around to see who had exited. A man of medium build and dressed in white stood between Artane and his men. His eyes were not glazed with the look of one who had been drugged, but were bright with the realization that intruders were standing beside him. He opened his lips to let out a cry of alarm, but in an instant Teger had one of his huge hands over the man’s mouth and the other clamped on his shoulder in an iron grip. Teger nodded at Artane to indicate that all was under control, and Artane turned to continue down the stairs with his men and the city official following.

The group descended about twenty steps farther and came to the end of the stairs where a small hallway began. The mechanical noise was louder than ever, and Artane knew that the door at the end of the hallway led to the generators and the object of his quest. He and his men gathered outside of the entranceway. Teger wrapped his burly arm around the city official’s neck as Artane placed his hand on the door’s latch. He raised his other arm to signal them to follow.

Artane swiftly brought his arm down and at the same time pushed hard on the latch, throwing his body against the door. It swung open, and he surveyed his surroundings for a fraction of a second, as the wave of memory rushed back to him. Ten gray metal boxes that were as tall as a man lay directly below the platform where he and his companions now stood. Ten men wearing a color that matched that of the generators stood next to each machine, the look of drugged men in their eyes.

Artane heard a shocked cry that brought him back to the present. He was no longer a city drone working these machines but a Son of the Kentare, and the generators had to be destroyed for his and all people. Artane flew down the steps, gripping the ax in one hand. Out of the corner of his eye he could see five startled city officials struggle to reach the alarm on the wall to alert their comrades. Artane heard the scuffle behind him as his men intercepted them.

Then the horn blasted throughout the city, shattering the silence.

A wave of panic seized Artane as he reached the first generator. One of the officials had to have reached the alarm and set it off. There was no time to consider the best way to destroy the machines. He had to act now before the room was flooded with city officials and they were stopped. Artane’s ears pounded and his vision sharpened to focus on only the generators. In his rush, he caught sight of the thick cable that attached the machines to each other. He reached the part that linked the first and second generators. With a mighty shout, he slammed the ax down onto it, severing the cord.

There was a sharp, shocking pain as the generators’ hum ceased and the lights flickered out. Then silence.

"Artane."

He heard his name as if someone was calling him from a far distance. Where was he? Who was saying his name?

"Artane."

He slowly opened his eyes and found that it was just as dark with them closed. He tried to focus in the shadows and saw several faces surrounding him, eagerly peering down at him.

"He’s awake. Are you well?"

Artane found his voice. "I’m not sure." Then he remembered all. "Did it work?" He eagerly asked.

"Well," said Teger’s voice. "You certainly did something. We shall see if we succeeded when we go outside. Can you stand?"

Artane shifted uneasily and found that he was sprawled against a wall. His whole body ached, and his hands seemed like they were on fire. He tried to regain his feet and found that he could shakily stand with the help of his men.

"What happened?"

Famir answered. "When you were running to the generators, we were able to capture four of the five officials. One of them was quick though, and he sounded the alarm before I could reach him. He ran up the stairs after he set it off. I’m sorry, Artane."

"All is well." Artane responded. "They’d know we’re here by now without the alarm. What about the other officials?"

He heard Teger laugh in the darkness. "We have them. Not a very talkative bunch, are they?"

Artane smiled to himself. "No, they’re not. Come my friends, let’s see if we’ve opened that dome."

"What about the other men – those in gray. I think they’re still here. They didn’t even flinch when the lights went off"

"Leave them for now." Artane said. "They won’t move from this place for a while."

The men found the stairs in the darkness and climbed slowly, allowing Artane occasional breaks to catch his breath. The underground rooms seemed to be deserted. They heard and saw nothing during much of their ascent. When they reached the last flight of stairs, they noticed the door leading to the surface was wide open, as if someone had run through it in great haste.

Artane and his men strained their eyes to see outside the door. Was that ….light? The flicker of hope that burned within them became brighter as they advanced up the last twenty stairs. With each step, they thought they saw the glow grow brighter in the gloom of the city. Finally they reached the door and looked directly up.

The silver light shone on their faces, bathing the gray buildings in its radiance. The city was illuminated in its rich and constant light, taking Artane’s breath away. The dome was about halfway opened now, letting in the brilliance of the night sky. Artane and his men watched as it opened farther with each passing moment, making the steady grating sound of metal against metal and revealing the world outside of the city. The endless dunes stretched before them, glistening white in the moonlight. Something caught Artane’s eye as he looked on in wonder. Silhouettes of over a thousand people stood on the hills, outlined against the moon and looking down into a city no longer encased in a metallic cocoon.

"Our people have arrived to see us victorious!" Teger shouted

Artane noticed by the city officials’ reaction that he and his men were not the only ones who had sighted the band of Tribal members. Panic had seized the city as the men in white frantically looked for ways of escape.

"Cowards." Artane heard Teger mutter.

Artane turned to look at Teger and noticed in the new light that he and four other of the men still held the city officials in tight grips. "They never expected someone from the outer world to penetrate their own. Release those men. They can do no more harm."

Teger was silent for a moment. Then he and the others let go of the officials who quickly joined the others in the mad rush to leave the city. Teger watched them leave and inquired, "What about the city dwellers? I only see these weasels in white running pell-mell."

Artane scanned the rushing crowd, but could not find any sign of common city dwellers among them. Then he realized the obvious. Of course he wouldn’t see any inhabitants in this mad rush.

"They are drugged to wake up when the artificial sunlight illuminates the dome," Artane replied. Then he quietly said to himself, "As I once was. Come. We must find the others as planned."

Artane and his men began to walk back toward the portal where Dwri and Kirck waited, dodging the city officials who no longer took heed or noticed them in their frenzy. The group moved slower this time through the winding streets so that Artane’s aching limbs did not have to strain as much. The dome’s opening seemed to increase with each step they took, revealing the dark skies dotted with bright stars. By the time Artane and his companions reached where Dwri and Kirck waited, the entire structure was opened, leaving only a three-foot foundation.

Dwri was the first to see his comrades over the small remaining wall. He gave a shout and bounded over the foundation, running at full speed in their direction. Kirck followed close behind. The two men pummeled their returned companions on the back and assaulted them with a barrage of words and questions.

"That was incredible!"

"How did you do it?"

"Do you see – our people are here now!"

"Who are these men?" Kirck indicated the panicked city officials with a gesture.

Artane remembered briefly his own flight from Domed City and responded, "Men escaping into the unknown, into the desert that they created."

His companions blinked at him, unable to understand his cryptic words. Artane smiled to himself. He thought back to that day when he ran into the dunes. So much had happened in that time, but above all he had found a place and people to call his own.

"Come my friends." Artane said. "Let’s greet our people." His friends looked in the direction of gaze and saw a group of men descend down one of the nearby dunes. Artane could make out the faces of the twelve Mawrs and Bard as they advanced closer. The men stopped several feet short of where Artane and his comrades stood, and even in the shadows Artane could see the look of relief and immense pride across their faces.

"Artane, step forward." Ilan commanded. Artane did so and met the Mawr’s gaze with his own. Ilan continued, "We honor you and your companions this day for destroying this sign of oppression, and thank you for your selflessness in putting your own lives in jeopardy for the sake of your people."

"Good Ilan," Artane responded. "We humbly accept your gratitude. However, there is more to be considered than just the end of the threat of Domed City. The city officials have deserted their domain, probably accompanied by their leader as well. They have left their citizens alone and drugged, as I was once. These people are sleeping the slumber of drugged men now, but soon they will awake to find their leadership, however tyrannical, no longer there. I ask that you do not desert them, but if possible take them under your protection as the Kentare were so good to do for me."

"Your request is a noble one. You say that there is little time before these people awake. I will therefore agree for now. The Mawrs will hold council in the near future to determine the permanent resolution."

Artane nodded in agreement as Bard advanced and spoke.

"For generations our people have gathered at this time to remember those who died in the attack years ago. After today, we will gather to remember you and your companions’ brave act as well." Bard stepped back from Artane and in a resounding voice shouted into the night.

"Hail, Artane!"

The surrounding people above repeated the cry and the desert shook with the strength of over a thousand voices in the night. Artane looked around him and knew that whatever the future held, he had found his place and destiny among these people as a Son of the Kentare.