Two Birds, One Feather: The Lives and Times of Lorewyn & Rhianyn in America

by C. J. Pearson

  “Tough call,” Rhianyn replied. “I like the Romulan costumes in the TV show, but I like Vulcan characters better.”

  They had found episodes of the original 1960’s Star Trek TV show on video tape and had binge watched for a week, trying to get a sense of the outfits, characters, style, and aspects of fandom that they’d have to be aware of at the convention.

  “Jane Wyatt was a Star Trek guest star?!” Lorewyn exclaimed, astonished at one point when they saw the episode Journey to Babel. “I never knew. I worked with her for a bit in Gentleman’s Agreement back in the late ‘40’s when I was contracted with 20th Century Fox. Did I ever tell you that…?”

  “Yellowfeather, I’m trying to concentrate on the show!” Rhianyn told her.

  They came to a decision. “Okay, you like Vulcans, so let’s get you in a Starfleet Uniform,” Lorewyn suggested. “I’ll dress like the Romulan Commander played by Joanne Linville. That will be fun! You know, I met her once in the early ‘50’s back when she was starting out in…”

  “Seriously, would you like me to schedule a reunion for you at this convention?” Rhianyn offered in an annoyed sarcastic tone. Lorewyn stopped making the references.

  They got the material and made their costumes. Rhianyn had originally planned to order red fabric for her Starfleet Uniform.

  “Oh, bad idea,” Lorewyn countered. “You want to avoid red. Go for blue or yellow instead. Trust me.”

  “Ah, but you’re forgetting,” Rhianyn reminded her. “I’m female. I’m safe in red.”

  Lorewyn laughed, but Rhianyn eventually decided she liked the golden yellow color better… and gave herself the rank of Captain.

  “A female Vulcan Starship Captain!” Lorewyn exclaimed. “I like it.”

  “If you’re a Romulan Commander, be prepared for me trying to seduce you every chance I get,” Rhianyn grinned in return.

  Lorewyn just held two fingers up together, the way she had seen Mark Lenard and Jane Wyatt do as Spock’s parents. “I’m counting on it… Captain Blackbird.”

  They had their costumes ready by mid-May and on the first day of the convention showed up to the Ambassador Hotel fully “trekked” out… and for the first time in ages, out in public without any kind of magical concealment effect on their ears! The attention and comments they received from fellow attendees was beyond astronomical.

  “Wow, those outfits look so authentic… like the ones on the show!”

  “Did you make those costumes?!”

  “Those ears… they look so real!”

  Lorewyn and Rhianyn were not accustomed to such attention in person, and it took some time for them to warm up to the fact that their fellow “fans” were genuinely impressed by their efforts and really wanted to enjoy participating in the fun with them. It was like nothing either of them had ever experienced before.

  They participated in a fan trivia panel in one room, not doing especially well against the Trekkies who had been devoted to the genre their entire lives. They enjoyed the dealer’s room with all the tables of merchandise. Rhianyn even bought herself a plush tribble… that squeaked!

  But it was the celebrity presentations and meet-and-greet that Lorewyn really liked the most. She found herself biting her tongue on occasion, unable to give away the fact that as Alivia Chambers she had met and worked with some of these people in the past. Fortunately, in costume as a Romulan, she had nothing to worry about in terms of being recognized.

  It was the third and last day of the convention. Lorewyn and Rhianyn had separated for a bit so that Lorewyn could get last minute autographs. Rhianyn had wanted to stay in the main ballroom and watch a special showing of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, plus hear some words from Judson Scott in person. The convention was using multiple floors of the hotel, so Lorewyn decided to take the elevator. On the way to catch the lift, she passed by a table with some floral arrangements… one of them being a purple colored foxglove in bloom. Lorewyn paused and asked the person at the table about them.

  “Make a donation to help fund future conventions and get a free plant,” the woman explained. Lorewyn gladly offered a donation and picked just one of the beautiful long foxglove blooms, taking it with her.

  She stepped in the elevator as people exited. No one else got on. She was about to press the close door button when one person entered, joining her. The doors closed a moment later. Lorewyn recognized this person immediately. She had, after all, spent several days binge watching episodes!

  It was George Takei… the actor who played Sulu, the Enterprise helmsman.

  Lorewyn caught her breath. The elevator was only going up one floor. If she wanted to talk to him, she had to act fast. She sided up closer to the elevator controls as subtly as possible and moved her hand against the panel. She twitched her fingers in a somatic gesture and cast a spell. The elevator came to a halt between floors, acting as if there had been a mechanical problem.

  Takei sighed with a hint of frustration. “Oh, come on,” he whispered to himself. He turned to Lorewyn. “Any luck with the button?” he asked.

  Lorewyn tried it, knowing her spell would counter it, of course. She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.” She paused for a moment. “Maybe it’s just a glitch and it’ll start again in a second?”

  “I hope so,” he stated. “I’m signing autographs in a few minutes.” He glanced over at the panel, then moved closer to it. “Is there an emergency phone?”

  There was indeed, but Lorewyn’s spell had knocked it out as well. He picked up the receiver. “Dead,” he muttered.

  Lorewyn decided she had waited long enough. “Mr. Takei?” she said. “I know this is kind of unusual and that I’m just a fan at a convention who’s stuck in an elevator with you, but… well…”

  “You’re a huge fan of Sulu, and you’re honored to have this chance to meet me in person?” Takei guessed, smiling.

  Lorewyn chuckled. “Actually, no… well, yes, I am honored to meet you, of course. But what I wanted to say was that your parents once helped my family out… a long time ago. They helped us get a house at a time when we were having trouble. I wasn’t born yet, obviously, but I know the story well. And I know that my family tried after that to find your parents when they heard about what happened… during the war. The camps. And they never found them, or saw them again. And this grieved my family, greatly, for your parents had been so kind, so generous. And the story in my family goes that when they got that house in Toluca Lake and your parents came over with gifts, that their little boy came with them, and he gave a gift too. He offered a flower, a purple foxglove. And it meant a lot to my family, a great deal in fact. And, well… Mr. Takei… I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you on behalf of my family for what your parents did, and for that little boy long ago. And I wanted to give you this as a way of showing my gratitude.”

  Lorewyn had been holding the foxglove behind her back and now presented it to him. With her other hand, she stealthily released the spell, and the elevator began moving again. It resumed its ascent and a moment later came to a stop.

  George Takei simply stared at the flower for a second, then accepted it graciously. He looked up at Lorewyn, his expression one of wonder and mixed emotion.

  “Thank you for sharing that story with me,” he finally said, “and for holding those memories, of your family, and of mine… Miss…”

  Lorewyn paused, the word “Chambers” forming on her lips for the briefest of seconds, but then fading as she replied with the only name she could offer.

  “McKinley,” she responded. “Theresa McKinley.” She then extended her hand, raised in the Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, Mr. Takei.”

  The elevator doors slid open at that moment, revealing a number of people waiting. “Who’s been holding up the damn elevator?” someone complained.

  Takei raised his own hand to Lorewyn, returning the salute and the words.

  “Live long and prosper, Miss McKinley.”

  The people gathered outs
ide the doors heard this and cheered. George Takei gave Lorewyn a wink and then stepped off, some people following him, but others getting on as well. Lorewyn rode back down, then up again, and finally exited the elevator on her floor… boldly going forward.

  PART IV: OF REDWOODS, RE-RUNS, AND CHASING THE RAINBOW (1989-2021)

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 25

  It only lasted less than 30 seconds… but it felt like 30 minutes. Broken dishes, broken plant holders, busted light fixtures, cracked walls, partially caved-in ceiling, and the stone walkway leading up to their apartment in Oakland was split.

  Lorewyn and Rhianyn finally let go of each other after a couple minutes and slowly stood up from where they had been kneeling in the doorway. Their apartment was in shambles, and they had only been living in it for the past few months since they had moved to the Bay Area. The power was out. Rhianyn crept over to the phone to check the line. Dead. Another falling light fixture broke the silence… and the bulbs.

  Lorewyn moved stealthily to the front door of their place and peeked outside. In the distance, she could see a portion of the Bay Bridge close to their side of the bay collapsing. Both she and Rhianyn had still been in Europe when the Big Quake of 1906 had hit San Francisco. But this wasn’t too far off in terms of magnitude!

  The Loma Prieta Quake. October 17, 1989… just after 5:00pm.

  “Welcome to Northern California?” Rhianyn managed a thin smile.

  Lorewyn sighed. “Yeah… a warm welcome.”

  They managed to find another place to live in Berkeley, an area which had been affected far less in terms of damage. It was a bit pricier, but convenient. Lorewyn was going back to school at UC Berkeley, returning to academia for the first time in decades. She was looking forward to it. History.

  “I want to teach,” she had told Rhianyn. “Remember when I taught in London? I really enjoyed that, but that was a century ago now. I miss it. But here in the U.S. you need higher education to teach college. You need the degree.”

  “I imagine given what you know and the range of our experiences, you can get through a graduate program at Cal without too much trouble,” Rhianyn assured her.

  And Rhianyn herself? She was going for her commercial pilot’s license. She too had been missing something that she had enjoyed once upon a time.

  “The flights we’ve taken on those large commercial jets got me thinking,” she explained. “I have more hours of flight experience than any of those commercial pilots… and that’s not even including my centuries of flying on Pypp! Between Hughes and the WASP’s? Commercial piloting seems to be where it’s at nowadays.”

  “True,” Lorewyn agreed, “but flying those big airliners isn’t like test piloting a Hughes single prop-plane, or a World War II era bomber, Blackbird.”

  “Which is why,” Rhianyn grinned, moving her hand through the air in imitation of an airplane, “I’m going to do some additional training and get my commercial license.”

  By 1990, Lorewyn was halfway through her Master’s and Rhianyn had certified and was employed by Cavalier Airlines as a first officer on a Boeing 767. She was flying the San Francisco to Seattle circuit mostly, gone typically half the week. But she enjoyed flying again, and Cavalier proved to be a good fit.

  Two years later, Lorewyn had completed her Master’s and decided to jump right into a Doctorate. Rhianyn had made captain by that time and was earning plenty so that Lorewyn could focus mostly on school. They only had one car… it was all they needed. Rhianyn rode BART to and from their place in Berkeley when she needed to get to the airport, and they lived close enough to the university so that Lorewyn walked most everywhere. She picked up a bit of extra money tutoring at first, then working as a teaching fellow while finishing her degree.

  Lorewyn and Rhianyn would stroll down Telegraph Ave. exploring Berkeley’s colorful university community and the nearby downtown area.

  “It’s very… ‘60’s-ish,” Lorewyn commented the first time they walked, checking out Rasputin’s and other places of local interest. Rhianyn only browsed in Rasputin’s once, the middle-aged hippie-attired clerk at the record store pausing and looking at her curiously after hearing her speak.

  “Hey, don’t I know you, man?” He asked. “Like… your voice. I totally know your voice, man. You’re famous or something. I’m good with voices… like… oh yeah, man, now I know! You sound like the Rockin’ Raven! Back when I used to hang out in L.A. in the late ‘60’s, before I was drafted and…”

  “Sorry,” Rhianyn said, trying to be courteous. “My name’s Marlena Davenport. I don’t know any Rockin’ Raven.” She and Lorewyn left the store a minute later, both sighing a bit… but looking at the covers of the albums they had just bought.

  “Oh… that’s far out, man,” the clerk replied.

  “Dr. Silvestri?” It was the voice of a student, an undergraduate.

  Lorewyn looked up from where she had been doing some research in the university’s Bancroft library. A young woman of about 19 or 20 was standing there, one of the students that Lorewyn worked with as a TF.

  “It’s not Doctor yet,” Lorewyn smiled. “I still got another year or two to go before I can claim that particular honorific. It’s just Lorraine. And… please remind me of your name? I’m sorry, I work with so many undergrads right now.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” she exclaimed. “Esther. Esther Jameson. I was just wondering… do you have a minute?”

  “Sure,” Lorewyn offered, motioning to a seat nearby. “What’s on your mind?”

  Esther took a seat and opened a book she had been carrying. “The Early American History class I’m taking… the one you’re helping Professor Devereaux with? Well, I’m writing my abstract for the paper on the Lost Colony of Roanoke. I know there’s no absolute for certain answer about what happened to the colonists. Just theories, several in fact. And I’m developing my thesis on it, for sure, but… I was just curious about what you thought.”

  Lorewyn chuckled in amusement. “Are you trying to casually and cleverly solicit me as one of your sources?”

  “Oh, no!” Esther exclaimed. “I’m sorry if I gave the impression that…”

  “Relax, Esther,” Lorewyn said calmly. “I was just joking. I understand, completely. Of course, I’m happy to discuss it. It’s an interesting mystery, for sure.”

  “It is,” Esther agreed. “And… well…” She moved in closer to Lorewyn, lowering her voice. “I also need your advice on something.”

  Lorewyn looked at her, not sure how to read her sudden shift in approach. “Okay…” she responded. “I’m glad to give advice if needed. What on?”

  Esther turned the book she had been carrying so Lorewyn could read it. “I was digging around the San Francisco Public Library last week, trying to find some material that the library here might not have. I uncovered this. I don’t think this is included in the regular citations on the colony and its history. In fact, I don’t think Professor Devereaux is even aware of this. If he was, there would be something about it in his class notes.”

  Lorewyn was intrigued. “What exactly did you find?” she asked.

  Esther flipped to one of the pages. “This is a section from a diary supposedly written and kept by a man named Edward Morgan. He claims to be the grandson of a woman named Bridget White, who apparently was John White’s sister. John White, as in the man who led the expedition to establish Roanoke Colony, then left and when he returned three years later found the colonists gone, vanished. No trace.”

  “Except for the clue,” Lorewyn added. “The word written on the palisade of the fort… Croatoan.”

  “Exactly,” Esther continued, “which has been open to several interpretations. Did the colonists relocate to that island? Many believe that. But no conclusive evidence was found to prove that theory.”

  “This is information that’s already known,” Lorewyn stated. “What have you found that got your attention and motivated you to explore this further?”

  “Ah… this
.” Esther turned to another page. “Morgan’s diary offers another explanation. Again, nothing proven for sure, but he based his ideas off of conversations with his grandmother, Bridget White, who knew John White personally, of course, and must have gathered this from him.”

  She showed Lorewyn an entry in the diary. “According to Morgan, when John White and those who arrived in 1590 found only the abandoned fort with no colonists, they supposedly found this as well… the letters ‘CRO’ carved in a tree.”

  Lorewyn read the entry more carefully. “This is apart from the word Croatoan that was found on the palisade?” she inquired.

  “Yes,” Esther replied. “Now, here’s the thing. It’s assumed that the ‘CRO’ was carved on the tree first, and that someone carved the full word on the palisade later, thinking that ‘CRO’ was intending to say ‘CROATOAN,’ but… Morgan has another theory. Look carefully at the word ‘CRO’ as it’s sketched here, duplicated by John White himself when he first saw it.”

  Lorewyn examined it more closely. The “R” was inverted. It was written backwards, almost as if someone had been using a mirror… or deliberately trying to send a message.

  Esther looked up at her. “I don’t think ‘CRO’ was the intent of the carving,” she explained. “And I think whoever carved the full word afterward misunderstood the message. I think these three letters were meant to be read in reverse order… like the way you write something backward so someone will have to look at it in a reflection in order to decipher it. That’s what I think this is… a code. People just used the wrong ciphering tool to decode it, that’s all.”

  Lorewyn had stopped reading the entry and was gazing at Esther with a very cryptic and concealed look herself. She was making every effort possible not to react, nor to give any hint that she understood exactly what was being communicated here.

  “And… what do you think the message is actually trying to say?” she asked.

  Esther placed her finger on the text, moving it in reverse order across the letters.