QUALIFY: The Atlantis Grail (Book One)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE (draft)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I sprint past the crowds and the noise, and the guards watching us, along the narrow open path where the others are heading. I watch the back of the Candidate right in front of me as he runs up the spiraling staircase, ignoring the elevators, and I follow him and those before him. Just as many others come behind me.

It’s five flights up to the five level walkways. Our feet slam hard against the stairs, thundering, as we run upward. Fifth level is as far as I’ve been in this building. It is where the offices are, including Office 512. I wonder for a split second if Aeson Kass is in there now, watching us and our progress on his numerous surveillance consoles—watching me—as I rush past the fifth level walkway, and then head for the door that is labeled “Roof Access.”

I follow the teen in front of me and we take the stairs—he is doing two at a time—and then emerge outside up on the roof, into a strange flat area of concrete, a perimeter strip that goes all around the huge building structure, and alongside which I see many people. . . .

And Atlantean shuttles.

The wind is blowing. The morning sky is clear blue above, and the shuttles hover silently just a couple of feet off the roof, massive grey-silver oval birds, with rung ladder staircases hanging off. There are five of them, and I see that overhead, about a hundred feet up, five more wait in formation . . . and then another five more, two hundred feet up. Indeed, the sky is filled with them, like weather balloons. Altogether, it’s a stunning sight.

These shuttles are larger than then ones I have experienced before, at least three times greater in circumference, and I am guessing they function as mass transport buses.

Weeks from now, these same shuttles might be used to ferry those of us who Qualify up to the motherships. . . .

As I pause, still reeling in my mind, gawking in uncertainty, a uniformed official passes a hand-scanner over my token. “Shuttle number five,” he says. “Over there, Los Angeles. One weapon assignment, Yellow Quadrant.” And already he turns to the next person behind me.

I hurry in the direction pointed, and I see more officials with signs, each one bearing a number and city name.

I find the shuttle for Los Angeles and start moving up the rung ladder, seeing the clattering feet of the Candidate before me.

A sudden crazed stress-thought occurs to me. What about my brothers and Gracie? What city did each of them choose? Did they spring for the familiarity of L.A. also?

Inside the shuttle is a wide roomy interior resembling a long hallway with rounded walls of soft pale off-white color that bear faint lovely symmetrical etching designs. . . . Instantly I get a flashback to that night when I pulled Aeson Kass out of the burning shuttle, because these walls are exactly like the ones in that shuttle. . . .

“Move it, Candidate!”

I start awake and see an Atlantean whom I don’t recognize, but who could as well be one of the Instructors. “Take a seat,” he says, as he stands near the doors like a bored airline flight attendant, except with arms folded in a cold typical stance of his kind. His hair is long and metal-gold, and his attitude suggests he is used to command.

The shuttle hull interior is filled with rows of high-backed seats, at least twenty across, and five times that many more going back. The seats are filling fast. I hurry along the side aisles looking for open seats, find one in the back rows.

I sit down next to a much younger teen girl with a red token who looks back at me with a nervous frozen expression. As soon as I take up my seat—which is surprisingly comfortable, made with soft resilient material—another Candidate sits down next to me on the other side, another silent girl with a hard expression on her face and a blue token.