Beyond The Impossible

Thalassia, Aegian Galaxy

Seen from space, the only remarkable feature of this planet is the unusual extension of its oceans when compared to most inhabited worlds.

Over 90% of Thalassia is covered by water, but that hasn’t stopped the growth of civilization.

Surveying the planet, Quantum came across large concentrations of radio waves: by his estimation, Thalassia must have at least double the population of Earth.

There aren’t as many cities, though. Only a dozen or so; everyone else lives in much smaller communities, mostly located at the bottom of the world-spanning ocean.

The only large city on the surface is kept afloat on a gigantic artificial platform shaped like a seashell, and its skyscrapers are surrounded by a gigantic statue of Poseidon triumphantly lifting his trident towards the heavens.

Quantum and Vesta have found a secluded spot where they can stay out of the public eye, under the shade of one of the brick walls that separates the various boroughs of the city. Aside from the skyscrapers, the rest of the buildings are decidedly more primitive.

<This place is kinda weird, isn’t it? They have technology… I’ve seen few people holding cellphones… but it’s like the Far West out there.> Quantum comments.

<It smells much nicer than the Far West. And I don’t think these people actually live here… look at the architecture. Not only the skyscrapers are much older than anything else, but these lower buildings are mostly shops. I think this is a religious site.>

<Are you sure?>

<I speak from experience. I had quite a few sanctuaries like this built for me. Never much cared for statues of myself, though… it’s kind of creepy.>

<Yeah I would’ve preferred if that was a statue of you.> Quantum comments; it’s not much of a joke, since the statue of Poseidon is both completely naked and anatomically correct.

<We shouldn’t stay here for long; we stand out too much.> Vesta warns him.

Despite having altered her own skin color to match Quantum’s and the local dark-skinned population, the two Vanguard members are the only ones dressed like the others.

<No way I’m wearing a toga again.> he objects.

<How many times do I have to tell you, that is a chiton and not a toga. That’s one of the reasons why this can’t be a real city: most of the planet’s population lives underwater, and you really can’t swim wearing those things. These people are on a pilgrimage.>

<Blessed tides, strangers!> an unfamiliar voice greets them.

And sure enough, a man in a green chiton and a necklace of seashells has approached them.

<Yeah, sure, back atcha.> Quantum replies, looking at Vesta with an expression that clearly says “now what do we do?”. The local doesn’t pick up on that.

<I’m Polyxo, visiting from Akreus. Why are you alone in here? Are you lost?>

<Blessed tides to you too, Polyxo. Yes, I’m afraid we are lost. We are… uhm…> Vesta hesitates.

<I’m Clark Kent, and this is my friend Lois Lane. We’re from Metropolis.> Quantum improvises.

<Never heard of it. Must be far away.>

<It sure is. It was a long flight to get here.>

<Sail.> Vesta whispers to him.

<It was a long sail to get here.> Quantum corrects himself.

<That would explain your attire. The cloaks are a bit uncomfortable maybe, but that’s what Poseidon wants us to wear!> Polyxo cheerfully comments.

The man seems friendly enough, so Vesta tries to get some information out of him.

<Blessed be his name. Truth be told, we didn’t purchase the proper clothes because we were actually hoping to learn where we could see Calypso… we came to this fair world for the chance to admire her from afar. You wouldn’t happen to know where she might be now?>

<Oh my, you are lost indeed Loislane. Calypso resides where our ancestors dwelled.>

<Is that on this planet?> Quantum asks, without thinking much. The friendly local responds with a harsher tone than before:

<What kind of question is that!?>

<Please forgive my friend, he’s not…> Vesta tries to calm him down, but Polyxo is growing suspicious of these two strangers.

<Dude, I was just asking!> Quantum defends himself, but it’s too late.

<Any true Thalassian would know! Where did you say you are from again?>

<Relax, we’re all Thalassian here right?>

<Your word is not enough. Siren!!! Siren!!!> Polyxo shouts.

And sure enough, within a couple of seconds a woman appears next to him, stepping out of a portal made of water. She doesn’t have a fish tail instead of legs, but other than that she’s like the Siren of Gyaros: topless and holding a silver trident.

<Who summons the Siren of Samnos?> she asks with an extremely bored tone.

<Calypso’s faithful servant Polyxo, my lady. These are Clarkent and Loislane of Metropolis, and they are not real Thalassians.>

<Now wait a minute…> Quantum tries to buy some time.

<This again? I swear it happens every other day. Nobody is invading the planet, citizen, these are perfectly normal Thalassians.> the Siren sighs, tapping her trident against the floor.

A bubble of water appears around the heads of the Vanguard; Vesta doesn’t react, since she doesn’t need to breathe, but Quantum has to transform himself into light and move out of the way.

<Son of a hippocampus… they’re not Thalassians!!!> the Siren realizes, pointing her trident at the supposed invades.

<You two! In the name of Calypso, I sentence you to death!> she shouts, releasing two powerful streams of water from the trident.

Quantum just sidesteps the one aimed at him, while Vesta lets herself be hit: she catches the stream with the palm of her hand. The pressure of the water jet would be enough to crush concrete, but it’s completely harmless against her skin.

<Alright, enough of that.> the goddess says, and her hand catches fire. Not only the water isn’t enough to put it out, but the flame runs up the stream and reduces it to vapor.

<You Sirens really aren’t used to people fighting back, isn’t it?> Quantum realizes.

The Siren of Samnos reacts by emitting a high pitched sound. While unpleasant, it’s not meant as an attack but as a summon.

And sure enough, multiple water portals appear around them as two dozen Sirens show up. Some of them on land, some of them riding waves that hover in the air, but all are pointing their tridents and ready to launch a coordinated attack.

<We surrender.> Vesta says, raising her arms.

<We do? Why?> Quantum wonders.

<My name is Hestia, Firstborn of Kronos and Ambassador of the Olympian Empire. I seek an audience with Lady Calypso.>

<Oh, right. Take us to your leader!> Quantum echoes her.

The Sirens look at each other in confusion; this is definitely unprecedented. Nobody takes initiative for a full thirty seconds, until the Siren of Samnos says to her trident:

<Warn the Coral Palace of the arrival of two guests. Hestia of Olympus and Clarkent of Metropolis seek an audition.>

 

The Coral Palace, ocean floor of Thalassia

As the name implies, the building is indeed made of coral. But unlike the Earth organism, the coral that grows on Thalassia is strong enough to withstand the crushing pressures of this depth.

Vesta and Quantum are brought to the massive throne room at the top of the palace: a dome that allows a spectacular view of what lies outside the Palace.

The sun doesn’t shine at this depth, but there’s no need for it: the swarms of bioluminescent fish swimming around the Palace and especially the glow of the crystalized ocean flow are enough.

There is no city around the Coral Palace, or at least not anymore. What’s left are the ruins of an ancient city that, despite the heavy damage, still makes Olympus itself look like a dump.

<Cousin Hestia. It’s been a while.> Calypso greets her.

The goddess is sitting on an unusual throne, crudely carved out of rock. She has pale white skin, unlike anyone else on the planet; she’s only wearing a long skirt and a couple of seashells that only cover her nipples.

<It’s Vesta now. And this is my friend Quantum.>

<You could’ve just called, there was no need for subterfuge if you wanted to see me. Girls, you can leave us alone now.> Calypso orders the Sirens. Two of them take a respectful bow and quietly leave the room, but not after giving an angry look at Quantum.

<I have to ask. Why are all your Sirens topless? Other women in the sector aren’t.> Vesta asks, with her skin slowly returning to her usual Caucasian look now that a disguise is no longer needed.

<Not that we’re complaining.> Quantum adds.

<Poseidon insisted on it. It used to be a requirement for his vassals as well, until his wife Amphitrite finally managed to convince him otherwise.>

<Honestly Calypso, I never understood why you keep up with him… it’s not like you to crave a position of power.>

<It was his way of paying me back. He destroyed my beloved world of Ogygia in a fit of rage… this rock is all that is left of it.> Calypso says with sadness in her voice, caressing her throne.

<So you don’t even want to be Poseidon’s vassal?>

<Trust me, Vesta, I am more of a prisoner of this world than its ruler.>

<Then you’re not forcing the Thalassians to be xenophobic nutjobs?> Quantum asks.

<I couldn’t care less if their skin is brown, pink or green, or whether they breathe air or water. Considering their history, though, I don’t really blame them.>

<I’m afraid I don’t know much about the Thalassians.> Vesta admits.

<They’re a curious bunch. My mother Tethys took mortals to this galaxy when you were young… long before Demeter cultivated them to populate the Olympian realm. Poseidon tolerated them for the longest time, but they grew too powerful and too proud… one day they made him so mad he nearly annihilated their entire civilization.>

<Your brother sounds like some piece of work.> Quantum whispers to Vesta.

<These ancient Thalassians… how advanced were they? Did they have ships?> she investigates.

<Oh yes! Beautiful city-ships. Until Poseidon decreed that mortals could only travel through his rivers, this galaxy was full of these marvels. Why such sudden interest, Vesta?>

<Someone sent a signal to Olympus. We’re trying to figure out who sent it.>

Quantum takes Vesta aside, worried that her trust in her family might put them in trouble again.

<Should we talk about this with her?>

<She’s the only lead we have.> Vesta admits.

<I doubt it’s the Thalassians. Poseidon also heavily restricts world-to-world communications, let alone galaxy-to-galaxy. It might be the activity of those pesky terrorists from the Zenith, or perhaps Atlantis Uprising. They’ve caused quite a stir lately.>

<Those “terrorists” are active in your sector?>

<I wouldn’t worry about Atlantis Uprising… they’re just anti-theist fanatics. As for the Zenith, I hear they’ve returned in some way. That’s more troublesome, I sure wish we’re not having another Angel of Death situation.>

<I’m sorry, angel of what?>

<You’ve never heard of the Angel? Where have you been in the last couple centuries? Her attack on the Aegian Galaxy was so bad that Poseidon truly considered destroying his own realm to get rid of her. Thankfully all of her technology has been destroyed, although we do have the remains of one of her laboratories here on Thalassia. Perhaps you might want to look into it.>

<“Angel of Death”. Why does that sound familiar?> Vesta wonders.

<Perhaps you know her by her mortal name of Roxiana?> Calypso suggests.