The Bearens' Hope Book Four of the Soul

by Laura Jo Phillips

  One month later.....

  Chapter 10

  Earth, Arlington, Virginia

  Due to a few lucky jump slot assignments, Hope’s journey from Jasan to Earth took only twenty-nine days, which was far less than the usual thirty-nine days. Hope was very grateful for the speedy journey as she was more than ready to get back to her old life and leave Jasan in the past. It wasn’t easy, since she still kept getting that same feeling that she was supposed to be there. Only now, instead of making her feel hopeful, she was annoyed by it.

  She had followed her feelings, spending a good chunk of her life savings in the process, and come away with nothing but a lot of wasted time and a sense of loss that she couldn’t seem to shake. She just wanted to get home and restart her life.

  She collected her luggage and left the Dulles Interstellar Spaceport with a sense of relief. It was nice to look up and see the familiar blue skies of Earth and the green grass lining the walkways. Even the scent of the air was different here. Home, she thought. It was so nice to be home.

  Even though she’d been certain when she left that she would not be returning to Earth, she had followed the suggestions in the Candy Bride brochures she had gotten from Bride House, and kept her home and belongings, just in case. At the time it had felt like wasted effort, but now she was glad for it.

  She hoped that the messages she had sent before leaving Jasan had been received and acted upon. If they had, then she should be able to go home to her apartment and find all of her belongings in place, the kitchen stocked, the utilities on, and her bed made up as though she had never left. She was really looking forward to that as she lugged her suitcases down to the corner and boarded a train into the city.

  A few hours later Hope was settled in her own home at last. She’d been very pleased to find that the service had done everything promised. It was almost as though she had never left. She did have a few things in secure storage, mostly photographs, wall hangings, and keepsakes. She would have to pick them up sometime in the next few days, but there was no rush. There was nothing she really needed. The one thing she had missed the most was her art supplies, and they were all here, set up in the extra bedroom she used as a studio.

  She had deliberately not taken any of her supplies with her to Jasan, not even a sketch pad. When she was drawing or painting, she tended to bury herself in the creative process to the exclusion of everything around her. She had been on Jasan for a purpose, and she knew herself well enough to know that if she started painting, she would shunt that purpose aside. Now, she regretted not painting during her stay since she had come away without accomplishing anything else on her trip.

  After fixing herself a quick meal and taking a long, hot bath, Hope went into her studio. The service had unpacked her supplies and set them up, which was nice, but everything needed to be rearranged. She spent a relaxing couple of hours setting things up to her own liking.

  She had made a good living doing commissioned portraits by hand, a lost art that very few artists cared to be bothered with, but one which had gained in popularity over recent years, especially among the wealthy. Hope didn’t mind catering to the rich because it provided her with enough money to pay the bills, and left her with enough time to do what she truly loved, which was creating art imbued with hope for those who needed it most.

  As Hope sorted through her paints, she thought of some of the murals she had done in hospitals, med-centers, orphanages and schools all over the continent. There was something about them that gave people in their presence a feeling of hope and joy. Hope had no idea why that was so, or even how she did it. She knew only that it was real, and that it worked. It didn’t seem to matter if the mural was of a playground filled with children, or of dolphins frolicking in the waves, or birds soaring through a sky dotted with fluffy clouds, the end result was always the same. People loved them, and they uplifted people’s spirits in a way that was beyond explanation.

  She did the murals for free, working on them at night or on weekends, whenever it could be arranged so that no one else was around while she did it. All she asked in return was that her identity be kept secret, and so far no one had violated that agreement. She signed each of her murals with a tiny owl like the ones tattooed on her wrist, so people had come to refer to the artist as Athena. Hope was always a little amused by that.

  Once her paints and brushes were sorted, Hope turned to the stacks of canvases leaning against the wall and selected a few to hang while she decided which of her contacts to touch base with the next day. She was eager to get back to work and put the past year behind her.

  By the time she was finished in the studio she was tired, relaxed and ready for a good night’s sleep in her own bed. She double locked the door, turned out the lights and climbed into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Two hours later Hope sat straight up in bed, going from a sound sleep to alert wakefulness in an instant. She climbed out of bed, threw on a robe and went to her studio, even though a part of her mind was wondering why she was doing it. It was the middle of the night, she was tired, and there was no logical reason for her actions.

  She felt as though she were under a compulsion that she couldn’t fight. She didn’t know where it had come from, but she had an image in her mind that she absolutely had to commit to paper right that very moment. She grabbed a piece of charcoal and a sketch pad and began sketching. Before long, she tossed the pad aside and began sifting through her blank canvases, searching for the largest. She set it up on her easel and started sketching again. This time she got further before realizing that wasn’t going to be big enough, either. This had to be big. Really big. The subjects were larger than life in her mind, and she had to paint them that way. She tossed the canvas aside in frustration and yawned, noticing for the first time that the sun was coming up.

  Feeling as though she was leaving something important unfinished, but too tired now to do anything else, she washed her hands and fell into bed. She slept restlessly for several hours, and woke up feeling agitated and tense. She sat up, trying to figure out what was wrong with her as she stared idly at the bare wall across from her.

  She’d had a tapestry hanging on that wall that had been handed down to her from her mother, but it was still in secure storage, so the bare wall looked strange to her. She stared at it for a long moment before the idea came to her. When it did, it was like a lightening bolt in her mind.

  She leapt out of bed and crossed the room to the wall, running her hands over it, testing the texture. There were a few spots that needed to be smoothed out, but that wouldn’t take long. She was very experienced at painting on walls and knew exactly what was needed to prepare the surface properly. She stepped back and eyed the wall carefully, picturing it with the image in her mind. She smiled. It would do.

  Chapter 11

  Onddo

  Slater stood beside Magoa, both of them moving in perfect unison as they performed the complicated patterns of steps and motions. Slater wasn’t exactly sure if this was the fifth or the sixth set of movements that Magoa had taught him over the previous weeks, but he did know that this last set was the most complicated of them all. It was also taking him much longer to learn than any of the others.

  Slater had been very afraid that Magoa would lose patience with him, and it was true that Magoa had become irritated at times. But for the most part he had been understanding. Slater had truly worked very hard to learn everything that Magoa had taught him, and he was sure that Magoa was aware of that.

  This time, as they finished the full set of movements, Slater watched with barely suppressed excitement as his green glow and Magoa’s red one moved slowly away from their own bodies and began intertwining with each other.

  He tried hard to contain his excitement and continue to focus, but the green light began to fade and he gave up. He hung his head as the light went out and sighed with disappointment.

  Therefore, he was very surprised when Magoa clapped him on the
shoulder and laughed. “Good boy, good,” he said happily.

  Slater looked up in surprise, but Magoa just grinned. “We must practice more, but we’re almost there.”

  Slater nodded. He would practice as much as Magoa wanted him to, especially if he wasn’t going to be mad at him for his failure.

  “There’s a bit of a catch though,” Magoa said, still grinning.

  “Catch?” Slater asked warily. “What catch?”

  “I want you to start practicing in your sugea form.”

  Slater’s eyes widened. “All of it?”

  “Oh yes, all of it,” Magoa replied. “Every movement, every step. In sugea form.”

  “All right,” Slater replied, trying to hide his uncertainty.

  “Don’t worry my boy, you can do it,” Magoa said. “The problem is, we are running out of time. So we need to step things up a bit.”

  “Time?” Slater asked blankly.

  “We have some Narrasti cousins on another world that, with the help of the Xanti, we’re going to rescue,” Magoa explained.

  Slater thought about that for a moment. “I thought we wanted to get rid of the Xanti,” he said finally.

  “Yes yes, I know, but with this new information, I think we need to keep them around just a bit longer,” Magoa replied.

  “Will they discover you are sugea?” Slater asked.

  Magoa shrugged. “I don’t see any way around it. These new cousins are important to us. They have direct line sugea DNA.”

  Slater’s eyes widened at that. He didn’t know a lot about such things, but he did know that the big problem that had always faced his people was their limited gene pool. Their original ancestors were gilea, the weakest of the Narrasti, the lowest of the low. That Magoa was a sugea was a fluke. That Slater was a sugea was a slightly smaller fluke since Magoa was his father. But they had never had new DNA to draw from. They had never even had the hope of such a miracle. Until now.

  “This thing we are doing, it is important?” Slater asked.

  “Oh yes, yes,” Magoa replied. “We could let the Xanti rescue these people and bring them to us. But then we would be in debt to the Xanti even more than we already are, and our new cousin’s first loyalty would be to the Xanti as well.”

  Slater frowned at that, and Magoa nodded. “Yes, exactly so,” he said. “We will make this rescue. You and I. The Xanti will take us there, and they will keep us hidden with their fancy machines, but it will be you and I who do the rescue. This is necessary, Slater. You understand that, yes?”

  Slater nodded. “Yes, I understand that,” he replied. “I will practice as hard as I can.”

  “Good boy, good boy,” Magoa said. “Let’s try it now.”

  Chapter 12

  Deep Space, The Kontuan

  Jackson Bearen felt a sense of urgency that he could not shake. It had begun during the meeting when Saige Lobo had informed them that they must go to Earth at once, and had grown steadily stronger ever since.

  The first couple of weeks of their journey had passed quickly due to the nearly constant exchange of messages required to catch their replacements up to speed on current security matters. Inevitably, the messages had trickled to a stop once Ternin and his brothers got settled in. That’s when the waiting, and the sense of urgency, began to wear on Jackson, Clark and Rob.

  Now, as Jackson listened to the Kontuan’s Captain explaining the political reasons for why they had to allow a bevy of Terien cruisers to jump ahead of them, that sense of urgency felt as though it were about to choke him. This would push their arrival on Earth back at least a week, and perhaps as much as ten days. They might as well have taken a civilian liner, he thought.

  Of course, on a civilian liner they would not have had the Shift Chamber to run off their anxiety and frustration in, something all three Bearens had done daily since boarding the ship a month earlier. Even though Jackson had already spent a couple of hours in the Shift Chamber that morning, he decided that as soon as the Captain was finished, he was going back there.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Jackson said, forcing his voice to politeness. Their bad luck wasn’t the Captain’s fault. “Please inform us as soon as you know when we will reach Earth.”

  “Of course, Commander Bearen,” the Captain replied with a bow. “Again, I apologize for this delay.”

  “No need, Captain,” Jackson said graciously. “It is not your fault.”

  “I will do all I can to get us to Earth as soon as possible,” the Captain promised with another short bow. Jackson held back his sigh as he, Clark and Rob turned around and left the bridge.

  “Have you had any luck deciphering that message Saige gave us from Riata?” he asked Clark.

  “None whatsoever,” Clark replied morosely. “I’ve found only a handful of people who even know what Greek is. Of those, none of them knew a single word of the language. Perhaps when we reach Earth we will have more luck with it.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Jackson replied, hitting the door to the Shift Chamber with more force than was strictly necessary to open it. A few moments later all three of them were in their bearenca forms, racing around the Shift Chamber at full speed. Jackson realized that they were all running with their long, sharp claws extended, and that it was making a mess of the padding on the floor. He opened his massive jaws and roared with frustration before pushing himself to run even faster.

  Chapter 13

  Earth, Arlington, Virginia, Special Operations Directorate Headquarters

  “I’ve tracked down and interviewed twenty-three women in the past few weeks, none of whom remember a single thing about signing a bride contract, or staying at Bride House,” Ellicia said as she lowered herself carefully into the chair opposite the Director’s desk.

  “That’s troubling,” the Director said.

  “It gets worse. They all vaguely remember visiting Jasan on a sightseeing tour. None of them remember anything specific about their visit, and what memories they do have all match.”

  “Match?”

  “They all have the same memories,” Ellicia explained. “Word for word, in fact.”

  “Do they have anything in common aside from the bride contracts?” the Director asked.

  “Nothing that I’ve found so far, other than the obvious. They are all young, or were young when they went to Jasan, between the ages of 19 and 30. Most have very little family or none at all, and few close friends. That fits the profile for most contract brides. Women who are young, lonely, and want families but don’t date much.”

  “I think we need to get a few of these women in for a thorough med-check,” the Director said. “See if there is any physical evidence of whatever was done to them.”

  “I’ve done a bit of research on that,” Ellicia said. “There are some drugs that can effect a memory wipe, but they are either temporary, or they do too much, wiping out chunks of memory, or even all of it in some cases. I haven’t found anything that reliably effects the specific memory alteration that these women have undergone. They remember their friends, family, everything about their own lives with the sole exception of their real reason for going to Jasan, and what they did there.”

  “I don’t like this, Ell,” the Director said. “How many women are we talking about here?”

  “From the list Jasan sent us, a couple of hundred women over the past several decades. There are women going back for several decades before that of course, but considering how many there are, I thought that it would be best to focus on the most recent first. At least for now.”

  “I agree, but I want to get some of those older women in eventually,” the Director said.

  Ellicia nodded. “What reason should I give to these women to get them in for a physical?”

  “Let me get back to you on that one,” the Director replied. “I want to talk to some of our scientists first, find out what they will need in terms of equipment and time.”

  “All right,” Ellicia said as she started to get up.

 
“Just a moment, Ell,” the Director said. Ellicia relaxed back into the chair.

  “I expect the Bearens to arrive soon from Jasan,” he said. “I need you to work with them.”

  Ellicia’s chin rose stubbornly. “I am not working with anyone else. Never again. You promised me that if I rode a desk I could work alone, and I am holding you to that.”

  “I am not asking you to take them on as partners,” the Director replied. “They are not going to be your team members. Strictly speaking, they are emissaries from Jasan, here to investigate this matter concerning women who visit their planet. I invited them, and have already told them we would cooperate fully in their investigation. I had to do it, Ell. We cannot, at this time, afford to spare people for it ourselves, and it is a matter that needs some serious looking into.”

  Ellicia’s face paled and she went very still. “You spoke with the Dracons?”

  “I exchanged messages with them, yes,” the Director replied. “And before you say another word, let me point out how certain I am that you would never question either my loyalty to you, or my word.”

  Ellicia blushed. “Of course not,” she said. “And I apologize if I gave you the impression otherwise.”

  The Director held Ellicia’s gaze for a long moment, then let it go with a slight wave of his hand. “The bottom line here is that the Jasani are sending a very high ranking male-set to look into this matter themselves. I need someone to work with them, and that someone is you.”

  “Very well,” Ellicia agreed reluctantly.

  “Ellicia, understand me clearly, this is not an Operation, and you are not going into the field. You will share information with them, show them around, take them with you on interviews if they wish. Other than that, I want you planted behind your desk.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Ellicia replied, a little more brightly now that she knew she didn’t have to go into the field with these men. Every time she did that, someone ended up dead, and she’d sworn she would never do it again.