The Dogs of War II

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Garth and the others, the other Atlan ambassadors to the various surface nations and their senior staffs had been taken, against their will almost two weeks ago. They had finally arrived back in Posidonis and had been kept, cooling their heels in various rooms of the palace waiting for King Orin, Arthur, to deign to see them.

They were still waiting.

Garth was ensconced in his usual private quarters, the ones he'd used since he was a child so at least he was slightly more at home, more at ease than the others. His own books were there and his own things, though it was apparent that they had been searched. The two doors were locked, but at least it wasn't an actual cell, just a literal one.

The balcony overlooking the courtyard, the one where he had enjoyed quietly reading by himself when he was younger and alone, that had been shut off. His communication devices, what on the surface would be phones and e-mail, were removed.

The only contact allowed was through servants loyal to Arthur. They would appear twice a day with food and see to whatever needs he might have. Though polite, they would answer no questions. His own retainers, people who had been with him since his childhood, were nowhere to be seen and he could only hope that they were safe.

Arthur had, as far as Garth could figure, finally snapped.

There had been some concern among the others, Garth's close friends in the diplomatic corps, that Arthur couldn't handle the strain any longer, that he was becoming dangerously unbalanced and was losing perspective, but no one would say anything for fear that the results would be deadly.

Arthur was known, among the people in Atlantis, as uncompromising when it came to any perceived threats to his nation and a coup or attempt to either remove him from the throne or to control him would not have been taken well. Unless it succeeded of course, and no one was willing to take the chance of trying and failing.

They would speak among themselves during the last year or so, when they knew no one could hear, but had not yet been able to make any moves to mediate his growing anger against the surface nations.

It had been a fairly ordinary day at the UN, Xan as Atlantean ambassador to the US was up from Washington to go over a couple of trade agreements which were ready to be finalized and Marcus, the Under Councilor at the UN-basically Garth's right hand man- had been in on the meetings as well.

The first round of meetings over, the three men had taken the elevator upstairs to the 23rd floor to their own mission offices and had walked into an ambush.

Atlantean soldiers, Arthur's personal guards from the looks and demeanor or them, had surrounded them in the reception area. They had been hustled back to Garth's office, the rest of the staff told to shut everything down, and had been effectively imprisoned for twenty minutes while they could hear the outside offices being ransacked. When the UN security guards had attempted to intervene, they had been told that it was an internal matter and didn't concern them.

Cowed, slightly, by his royal status Garth had been spared the body search the others had been subjected to and so had been able to secretly make one quick call to Dick, letting him know what was going on before the cel was smashed against a wall when one of the guards walked in mid call. The armed Atlans won their argument against the UN officials; the men had been escorted out of the building and to a ship waiting in the river. They had been brought directly back to their own capitol with no outside contact, either to or from the men was allowed.

The news reports they had gotten while enroute home confirmed that the Atlan Navy had blockaded a number of major surface ports and had fired upon and sunk an American warship with heavy loss of life. The official announcements and the declaration of war had been paranoid and irrational. The fear around the world was real and well founded.

No one on the surface knew the extent of the Atlan military capabilities. No one knew their abilities in technology. They had no idea if they had one ship or a thousand. There was no information on the surface about their population, the number of cities they had, the internal workings of the government or what any long-term policies were.

No one knew what they could do.

No one knew what they would do, or why.

That had been the unofficial position for years and nothing Garth or any of the others said would sway Arthur in the slightest. He refused to release any information that could possibly be used against them.

It had been Arthur's firm policy, one Garth had fought, that nothing substantive would be forthcoming during the last two years of opening talks and treaties negotiations with the surface. Everything was classified, everything was secret. No matter how he had argued that to have a true alliance there had to be some degree of trust, no matter what was said or what proof was given, Arthur would allow no real information through.

The Atlans, the ones in direct contact with the landsmen, knew that they would have to divulge information soon. Hard questions were being asked and no amount of charm or diversions would satisfy the men on the surface much longer.

They were running out of time.

Finally, in the last month Arthur had seen every slight, real or imagined, as a prelude to war. Three and a half weeks ago Garth had been ordered to start moving all Atlantean assets out of any bank or stock or fund based in any member NATO country. Billions, tens of billions had been moved. He'd pulled every string he had to allow the off shore transfer of that much capital, but it had finally been allowed. Listening to the rumors that were swirling, he had become convinced that there was a real danger accounts would be frozen and so had moved his own surface held holdings along with the rest.

Three weeks ago he had been informed through secret diplomatic channels that an American Naval sub had strayed into waters claimed by Atlantis. Arthur was convinced that the ship was there on a spy mission.

Garth had been the only Atlan rep who was kept completely abreast of the situation, with strict orders to keep everything top secret. No one was to be told anything, not even his most trusted advisors.  Even Dick had been kept in the dark.

The next day orders to mobilize the Atlan Naval, already standing at alert, had gone out and the first moves to blockade surface ports had begun.

The blockades were put in place and within hours the representatives had been forcibly recalled and a declaration of war had been issued.

In hours the first surface ship had been sunk.

Garth could have told the surface navies that they stood no chance against Atlan weapons, not in or on the water.

They stood no chance. None.

He had laughed as a child the first time he had heard the song, `Rule Britannia'. Britannia didn't rule the waves. Atlantis did. They had technology that hadn't even been thought of on the surface yet. They knew things about the waters and the oceans of the planet no one on the surface could imagine. They had harnessed power and created weapons that…

The surface nations stood no chance against them, not on or in water.

There seemed to be a pervasive view on the surface that the Atlans were either myth or stupid. In fact, they were neither. They were a nation of people who had almost eight thousand years to develop their technology and their arts with no interference from the surface. They were intelligent, highly educated and fiercely independent. They were a people who were proud of who they were and what they had accomplished. Living for countless generations underwater they had not only adapted, they had thrived. They would not be defeated easily.

They had ships the surface had no concept of, with weapons and surveillance capabilities and methods of evading detection that were beyond the best imaginations of even the science fiction writers.

The surface ships, the men and women in them would be sitting targets and there was nothing they could do about it. They wouldn't even know they were in danger until the ships were hit.

Equally, they stood no chance at retaliation. The Atlan ships were equipped with devices and means that would make them invisible to any sonar or radar now in existence. That was how that American ship had been so easily destroyed. No one knew the Atlan ship was there or that it had stood quietly below the surface, a hundred fathoms down, while the rescue efforts had been underway.

They had done nothing to impede the rescue, after pleadings from Garth that to hinder attempts to help would not only be inhumane, but a public relations disaster and one they would likely never recover from. It was the best he could come up with on short notice and luckily it seemed to work. It was one of the only concessions he'd managed from Arthur during the previous week.

Even after the ship was damaged and starting to sink, the surface ships, even the satellites, had no way of detecting their attackers whereabouts. They could come and go at will.

The surface navies had no way of knowing that every Atlan ship was coated with an surfacing that deflected any radar or sonar. They could be ten feet away and would be undetectable to the surface technology. It was one of the thousands of pieces of information that was listed as classified.

No one on the surface knew.

They might have suspected, but no one actually knew any more than they knew about the completely silent propulsion units on every ship built in an Atlan dockyard. No one could see them, no one could hear them. For all practical purposes they were invisible.

They were also faster than any surface ship and could dive deeper.  They were almost unstoppable.

He turned as the door opened, two servants he hadn't seen before were coming towards him. They were older than he was, maybe in their mid-forties. He could see the armed guards standing outside, waiting. Assuming the royal mask he knew gave nothing away, he simply waited for them to say something.

"Your Highness."

He nodded, waited. With a nod to the guards, the second man closed the door. The three men were alone.

"We trust that you are being treated well and that all your needs are being attended to?"

"Yes, thank you." The two men exchanged a glance.

"Is there anything that we could get for you or that would make your stay more comfortable?"

"Thank you, I have everything I need." It was a lie, but they all knew that. It didn't matter. Asking had been a mere courtesy. It was time to cut to the chase.

The taller man of the two moved closer, turning up the music that had been softly playing in the background, speaking softly enough that the sound wouldn't carry. The other man checked to make sure that the doors were secured and that they were as alone as they could hope for under the circumstances. "Forgive my speaking bluntly, My Lord, but time is short. We believe that you may not be in complete agreement with the course of action our government has decided on."

Garth gave nothing away. He didn't know these men. They could be anyone. They could be working for Arthur. In his years living in the palace, he'd learned nothing if not discretion. Besides, he had assumed years ago that his quarters were bugged. He had assumed correctly.

"I am, as I have always been, the King's man."

The taller man spoke again, "As are we all, and as such we want only what's best for him and our nation."

"Of course."

"There is some feeling that you, your Highness, may be able to deflect some of what is happening…We all want only what is best for our people."

They wanted him to somehow stop Arthur and they probably had some kind of idea of how to go about it. On the other hand, they could be working for Arthur and gathering a reason to have him executed to remove him as a rallying point for the factions who didn't support the current policy.

"I would be pleased to speak with the King to see what course he has decided on, if he would be willing to share it with me."

"With all respect, My Lord, we fear the King may be too consumed with his present course to give you his full attention."

"And I take it that you have a proposal you wish me to consider?"

"We do, My Lord. If you would be so gracious as to lend us your ear."

"And His Majesty is aware that you are here speaking with me?"

"We wouldn't further burden the King, Your Highness." So Arthur didn't know. "Sir, we are mere Councilors from the Outer Cities, hardly worthy of His Majesty's time when he is so busy. We were hoping that you might be able to convey our concerns and our suggestions for us. We know you have his respect, My Lord."

"I see." They understood one another now. How had these guys gotten in? Were the guards working for them? Had they been bribed? Would they report back to Arthur? "But I fear that His Majesty may be too busy to speak with me, either. If that should be the case, have you other thoughts?"

The odds that Arthur would agree to see him now were pretty remote, as these guys must have known.

"We do, My Lord. We have a letter that has been prepared and signed by a good number of the representatives of the Cities. Perhaps you might present this to your many friends on the surface to make our position more clear. In a time like this, certain actions can so easily be-misunderstood."

"And do you have this letter with you?"

"My Lord, we do not as we would in no way wish to compromise your own safety. If a letter were found in your personal apartments, it's meaning could be misconstrued." In other words, he could be brought up on charges of treason and killed. Of course he could probably be killed just for listening to the men anyway.

"It is the King's pleasure that I await his attention here in these rooms. I'm in no position to deliver a letter, or anything else, to anyone."

"Indeed, My Lord. In times like these such things are not easily arranged, but there are ways, sir."

"I've no doubt."

"If such a message were to be sent, where might it have the attention we would hope it would receive?"

There was a good chance that his speaking to these men would cost him his life. These men could be Arthur's, this could well be what Dick would call a set-up. If it was he knew that he'd be executed within twenty-four hours, just enough time for the charges and a mockery of a trial.

On the other hand, he knew that he could probably count his life expectancy in days anyway, with what was going on. What did Dick say? Nothing ventured, nothing gained? That was it.

"I would think that such a letter delivered to the Secretary General of the United Nations with a simultaneous release to the major news services for the surface would ensure it receiving the proper attention it would deserve." He stopped. Even suggesting that much was enough to implicate him a conspiracy. In fact the Justice League would be a good bet as well, but he didn't bother to mention it. It was too obvious. "Good, My Lords, you ask much. What proof have I that your desires are those that would be best for our nation?"

The other man, the one who had been holding back, came closer. Close enough that Garth could see his eyes. They were purple, not as vivid as his own, but purple, never the less.

"Your Highness, we both had the honor of friendship with His Majesty, your father and hold you-as do many others-as our true king. You are of the blood born and the throne is yours by right of law and custom. We would see you take the position you were bred to."

"You flatter me, but my position on this is clear: I've no interest in any throne. I believe whatever talents I may have are better used as an Ambassador, not as a monarch."

"Yes, My Lord and forgive me, your position has been stated often, however we must all serve the larger good and you are the true King, whatever your personal wishes may be."

Garth looked at the two men. He knew there was a group who wanted Arthur gone and him on the throne in his place. He knew what his bloodlines were and where he stood in the line of succession. He also knew that his legal claim to the throne was significantly stronger than Arthur's and that fact was becoming common knowledge.  It was not something he had ever really wanted known. He didn't want the throne, any throne and he knew that Arthur wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he thought that he'd accept one.

King, Prince or servant, he was just a pawn in this, whatever the outcome ended up being.

What he wanted was for this all to have been a nightmare and to wake up with Dick's arms around him in their own bed.

There was a good chance that he wouldn't ever see Dick again.

"Have you any news from the surface? How goes the war? What casualties?"

There was a good chance that soon he'd be another causality.

"Our blockades are still in place and there has been one large surface Naval ship sunk every day, each one in a different part of the world. Our own losses have been minimal as the surface navies seem unable to detect our ships." Of course they couldn't. Stealth and secrecy were among their best weapons. "The King refuses any negotiations and insists that this will continue until they accede to our demands."

"Which are?"

"Immediate and stringent pollution controls, acknowledgement of our borders and full political equality with access to all ports and inclusion in all relevant treaties, payment for injuries and birth defects and illness caused by ocean dumping. There are more, but those are the main points. And His Majesty demands that this all be enacted-or at least started- within two weeks."

It would never happen. Never. It wasn't possible.

"And if the surface nations don't accede?"

"The sinkings will continue, one a day and the blockades will remain in place at most major ports. Ports not actually blockaded will be mined and off shore drilling rigs will be considered hostile and destroyed." And no one on the surface knew how to disarm Atlan mines or bombs.

They might have had a chance at some concessions if they could be proved to be economically feasible for the surface nations, but they would never agree to these terms, not at gunpoint.

Atlantis would be depth bombed back to the Stone Age first. If the surface Navy's couldn't stop the Atlan ships, they would try to destroy the cities. Atlantis would defend itself, but eventually they would be annialated. Even with their weapons and the safety of being a mile underwater, they would be vulnerable.

Yes they had a number of other cities and not all of the exact locations were known on the surface, but their nation would still suffer tremendous losses, both in terms of causalities and damage and in loss of credence and ethics to the land nations.

They had managed to survive, even thrive while the rest of the world believed them to be legend and out of reach. Now that they were real, not even their technology could withstand an extended assault by all the surface nations. And the surface nations would have good reason to need them stopped soon if worldwide shipping was now disrupted. The economies of most of the world's nations would be in serious trouble if it continued.

And Garth believed with all his heart that most wars were based on economics.

"And you wish me to become the rallying point for forces and factions you say are opposed to the King and our current situation?" Hell, the room was bugged, these men were probably working for Arthur and even if neither of those things were true, the chances that they would succeed in unseating the King and making the surface nations believe them were almost nonexistent.

Garth knew that he was likely already sentenced to death on some trumped up charge or another. What difference would it make if he at least went down for his beliefs…better to be hung for the crime he commits then for the crime he didn't. Just the fact that he hadn't called the guards and had the men arrested when he knew why they were there would be enough to condemn him.

What was the phrase Richard used? Oh yes-either way he was screwed.

"What use can I be to you locked in here?"

After Arthur was killed or otherwise disabled, along with his chief supporters, Garth would be put on the throne as a moderate voice. He would declare an end to hostilities and assume the Monarchy on a permanent basis.

Their plan was for him to tape a message that would be smuggled out to the UN or the surface news agencies along with the letter signed by a large number of the councilors from the different cities. It would state that the war was not what Atlantis wanted, that there were forces which had been working against the King and that by the time the message was delivered, the situation would be contained.

Garth was highly thought of and had a deep well of good will and support among the Atlan people. He also had the respect of the surface nations and he was well known to the surface leaders. They would make clear that he would be able to unite the cities, or at least most of them and Atlantis would come out of this stronger in the long run.

If they succeeded.

If he wasn't killed.

"And what proof do I have that you are who you say?"

The taller man came closer, pushing back his left sleeve. On the inside of his forearm was a tattoo of the crest of Garth's family, the one that was on the shields and their flag and any number of other places-in Shayeris. It had been banned everywhere else as part of Arthur's ongoing plan to marginalize Garth over the years.

Of course, it proved nothing, it could all be part of a plan but he had nothing else to go on. The second man also approached, he, too had the tattoo.

"We served your father, sir. We would serve you and see you in your rightful place."

Gods, all his life he had dreaded the thought. His father had been murdered as king. Arthur was insane as king and he, he knew his duty and his responsibility but he didn't want it. He never had.

It was inevitable.

Yes, he would do it if he had to but he knew it would likely kill him one way or another. He would either be murdered one day or killed with stress and overwork.

No matter. One life forfeit to stop a war was more than a fair bargain.

Poor Richard. He would be forfeit, too. Their happiness would be forfeit.

He had an idea. "Are you in contact with the surface? Is it possible to get a message out?"

"It's difficult but it can be done."

Garth went into his private sleeping chamber. Writing quickly he penned a letter to Richard. He would ask the men to deliver it. He would have to trust them since it was impossible for Arthur not to know that he'd been contacted by the peace coalition. He had no choice.

He went back out the main chamber. "Deliver this to the person named on the envelope. If what I ask is done, then we may have a chance."

The two men exchanged glances. "You will work with us, your highness?"

The room was bugged. This was enough to have him killed.

He was going to be killed anyway.

He nodded, saying nothing the microphones could pick up and knowing that there were likely cameras recording his response anyway.

Relieved, they bowed and signaled for the guards to let them out. "We'll do what you wish, sir."

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Back in `Haven, Dick Grayson felt like he had been going quietly crazy. Garth was evidently under some kind of house arrest in Arthur's palace and Arthur himself was obviously nuts.

They hadn't been able to contact one another at all since he'd been sent back and no one knew if he was even still alive, though Bruce and the others tried to reassure him that even Arthur wasn't crazy enough to kill a popular member of the blood royal when he was sitting on an unstable government.

Two weeks now. That's how long it had been since it had all started and every night there was another report of some naval ship being blown up without warning. The ships destroyed were always military, never privately owned, though there were no guarantees that would last. Every night there were pictures on the news of sailors being rescued and of the ships going down in less than five minutes.

For two weeks he'd slept alone in their bed and even though he knew it was selfish and almost childish-damnit-he wanted Garth back to hold him and make love to him and just smile that gentle smile he always had when they saw each other at the end of a long day.

God, he missed Garth and he was so worried…

He wanted to know that Garth was safe. Even if he couldn't come back, even if he had to stay in Atlantis for the rest of his life-just so long as he was safe.

Ann, Garth's assistant had been a help for a while. They had tried to support each other, but it was wearing thin. Neither of them knew anything, neither of them knew what might happen. Once they had gotten past the obvious, they didn't have much to say to one another and so they had fallen apart pretty fast. They'd call every day or two, but it was always the same-no news.

Dick had even been questioned by the State Department and the Department of Defense. They had wanted to know what he might have been told about the Atlantean defenses or their capabilities or anything that might be in any way useful. In fact he knew nothing they hadn't already heard. Garth would never divulge anything classified and little of anything else, not even to him.

Whatever Garth brought home to work on had always been written in Atlan or encrypted. He never left anything lying around. He never shared anything about his work that went beyond pleasantries like who he'd had lunch with or that a speech seemed well received.

Garth was too professional and too good to slip up like that.

Then one day, almost two and a half weeks after the war had begun, Dick walked out of his precinct house to get lunch and saw the man watching him from across the street.

He followed Dick into the diner and sat, without being asked, across from him in the booth. He was a tall man wearing a pair of khakis and a sports coat. He looked like he could be anyone.

He was one of the men who had been in Garth's apartment at the palace a few days before. He had the letter the Prince had asked to be delivered.

"Forgive me for my boldness. I thought it would be safer if I wasn't waiting outside your home." God, he had that accent. Dick loved Garth's accent.

"Do I know you?"

"We have a mutual friend. He's asked me to see that you get this." He slid the sealed envelope across the table.

He put the envelope in his pocket without opening it. "Is our friend alright?"

"He was two days ago, yes." The man got up to leave, smiling at the waitress. "I don't think you'll have to contact me about that, but if you should have any questions, you can reach me at this number."  He put a business card by Dick's glass of water.

The card just had a name and a phone number written on it. Nothing else. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The man smiled, slightly. "Thank you, but I believe that we have things under control, or will shortly." He walked out of the diner.

Opening the letter--which had been written on Garth's personal stationary, the stuff with the crest on the top--he saw immediately that it looked like Garth's handwriting. There was no mistaking it…well, probably not.

It was dated a few days ago.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rob-

I'm writing this in my chambers and you're not to worry about me.  I'm fine. I'm unharmed.

You are not to fear for my safety.

I would like you to do something for me, though. Call Kal and his friends and see how they are. I meant to talk to them but had to leave suddenly and never got the chance.

I have some friends here who think that they may be able to simplify things somewhat-I know they would like to try.

I am hoping that things will be getting back to the same old boredom soon.

I believe that, if giving the opportunity, my old co-workers may understand that this is a misunderstanding that can be righted if they'd be willing to sit down about it when I get back to them.

I'm looking forward to it in fact, though there may be some things I have to do here first, possibly with those old friends.

I think about you often and hope you haven't forgotten about me while I've been gone.

With regards,

G

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

What the fuc...?

OK, he's under house arrest and wanted Dick to get the JLA to intervene and end this stupid war. Sure--that made sense. Bruce had said they'd been about ready to go in and see how nuts Arthur really was.

His old co-workers--the UN, obviously. He wanted diplomatic help as well. He wanted to get back to the surface or somehow get a hold of them and make them understand that the Atlans wanted a cease fire-or at least a lot of them did.

Old friends? Dick had no idea who the hell that could be except that guy who'd given him the letter couldn't be working alone and Garth must have trusted him enough to give him the letter.

An internal coup? It sure as hell sounded like that.

If he'd really written the letter.

That was easy enough to check. He could do handwriting analysis and see what he could learn about the man he'd evidently entrusted to deliver the thing.

Five minutes later he was talking to Bruce on the com link.

"Well, it looks authentic to me, at any rate. The handwriting checks out and it's definitely Atlan paper and ink."

"Do you think there's some sort of overthrow on their end being planned?"

"It looks that way and they want JLA backup."

"Will the JLA help?"

Bruce was nothing if not decisive. "I'll talk to them, I'm sure they will. Arthur can't be allowed to continue this insanity much longer.  The surface nations are looking into ways to blow Posidonis out of the water." Bruce paused for a short moment. "You do realize that if Arthur is removed then Garth is the next likely ruler down there-he won't be back up here."

"I know. So does he. We'll deal with it."

"Alright then. I'll call the JLA now." The line went dead.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Things moved quickly after that. Almost too fast, judging by the reports that were filed later. Twenty-four hours later the JLA had gotten through the various security walls and made it through to the palace to find that things had, indeed been gotten under control.  They walked into a situation that was essentially resolved. The JLA hadn't been needed after all and the announcement was broadcast over almost every station on the planet.

It was Garth who spoke to the world.

He was standing at a podium, calm, relaxed but professional and in obvious command.

He was introduced as `His Imperial Majesty. Lord and Liege of Atlantis and all of her Protectorates and Dominions, King Garth'.

Like almost everyone else on the planet with access to a TV, Dick was watching.

"I would like to start by making clear to the surface nations that earlier this morning I ordered all hostilities to cease immediately.  I have recalled our forces and all blockades were ordered ended as of approximately one hour ago. All mines and bombs have been ordered disarmed. No surface ships will in any way be hampered and should there still be any surface vessels in need of assistance of any kind, our people will extend any and all aid. Official confirmation of these orders has been sent to every nation's leader and to the UN as well. Full verification by whatever means are considered acceptable will be met.

I, and the nation of Atlantis, want it understood this conflict was implemented without warning, nor by general consent, by our former national leader, King Orin. Though he is essentially a good man and has been a capable and fair monarch for a number of years, it became increasingly clear to many of us that he is suffering an illness that caused him to perceive threats where there were none. We moved as quickly as was possible to contain the situation.

He was removed from authority last night and is at this moment, unharmed and being giving the medical attention he requires. Our custom dictates that no punitive punishment will be exacted on him.  He acted only in what he thought to be the best interests of our nation and we will allow no war crime charges of any kind to be leveled against him.

The loss of life which was a direct result of his orders are something which will remain a dark shame in our nation and one we regret deeply. I have ordered that restitution be made to any families who have suffered loss and while I'm under no illusion that will in any way make what has happened right, we will do what we can to ease the pain of those who have suffered.

Reparation will also be made to any nation for financial losses they may have suffered at our hands; ships will be replaced, cargo will be paid for."

He paused for a space of several seconds.

"On a more personal note; I've lived and worked on the surface for a number of years. Many of my closest friends-both personally in my own life and professionally in the diplomatic corps, are landsmen and the last few weeks have caused me tremendous anguish.  The actions, this war are not things that Atlantis is proud of and it will be years-decades-before the damage is healed. I know that these friends haven't understood what was happening and for that I can only offer my deepest apologies that they couldn't be told and so were forced to come to their own conclusions.

"There is much to keep me here now, much to do, but as soon as my duties permit I intend to return to the surface, if only for a visit, to explain this all in person and in more detail.

"We, the people of Atlantis still want to ally with the surface nations. I still believe that there's much we can do together and will do everything in my power to make that happen.

"Today, we start to begin again."

Garth faded out to be replaced by one of the network's talking heads.

"…That was extraordinary. I've never seen a head of state speak so openly and with so much seemingly genuine candor…We are getting reports that the blockades are indeed lifting, that ships are moving freely again…yes, another report that an Atlan ship in the Pacific is offering medical assistance to a damaged British destroyer…"

Dick started dial twisting; it was the same of every channel. The war was really over.

Garth was king.

The computer chimed.

"Dick? I have a secure relay call for you. You ready?"

"Sure. Who is it?"

"Who do you think?"

Of course. The screen faded and reformed. "Garth. God-are you really OK?" He looked so tired. He looked like he'd never slept in his whole life.

"I'm fine. I wasn't hurt and now I'm, I guess that I'm fine. Arthur had to be sedated and he's still under restrain. It was-difficult."

Garth was king in Atlantis and he had a country to put back together and about fifty nations to placate. Dick could hardly ask when he was coming home. He was home. Atlantis was home for him now. "I-I miss you. I was worried and…" God, he was talking in trite clichés.

"I know. I, look, I can't come up to the surface for a while.  There's too much to do here, but could you come down here? Would you be able to do that?"

He'd swim if he had to. "Of course. When?"

"I'll arrange a ship for you as soon as I can. I'll call your State Department; ask them to let you travel. I think it's still forbidden for Americans."

"I'm half Rom. I can travel on that passport." Anything, just so he could see for himself that Garth was alright and touch him, hold him again.

"Good." He paused again. He looked so damn tired. "I need you here."

"…As your consort?"

"As my friend and lover. I'll order the ship now. It will be there by morning. And Rob? Plan on staying for a while."

Return to The Dogs of War