Currents of Will

by Susan MacIver

  He took his eyes from the glasses and glared. “You ask too many questions. What do you want?”

  Daria knew she was on the edge of being dismissed. “I’ve never been in the middle of the ocean before and all this water makes me nervous.” She pointed at the bevy of blinking lights and intermittent readouts. “I just thought if I knew a little bit of how this all works, I wouldn’t be so worried.”

  The mercenary looked down his aquiline nose. “I do not depend on technology. If something should happen, I steer by the stars.”

  “But, if we lose the ship how would we be found?”

  The captain ground his teeth together so hard his jaw popped. She thought he would order her from the bridge. “A beacon box would signal our position—similar to the black box on an airplane. Now, no more questions. Go.”

  Daria thanked him and retraced her steps from the bridge.

  Wrapped in Evan’s arms, Kyla lay dreaming. His warmth surrounded her like a down comforter. Misty rays of dawn slipped through the windows and touched the sleeping lovers in a tentative caress. Drowsily, Evan opened his eyes as a cascade of pastel light drifted over Kyla’s luxurious curves and bathed her in a shower of morning rainbows; he smiled.

  Mesmerized by her gossamer beauty, he traced the swirls of color, gliding over her silken skin with a whisper touch. Kyla stirred and moved out of sleep with a contented sigh.

  Topaz eyes flicked opened and when she beheld Evan’s face, her generous lips curved into a rapturous smile. “It was a short night my love.” She stretched languidly and reached for him. Her alluring bronze skin pulsed amber. “But, oh so memorable.”

  Evan was drowning. Their kiss deepened and he was overcome with such a profound sense of joy that his heart hurt. He no longer possessed the capacity for speech.

  Kyla raised her head and Evan saw the intense reflection of her feelings. “Our ways are new to you, but once a mate has been chosen, it is customary to share thoughts.” She sat up. Her look was solemn as she took his hand. “I would have you as my life mate, if you would have me. By virtue of thought-touch, we will be joined, one to the other, as long as we draw breath.”

  Evan swallowed hard to get past the lump in his throat. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but it feels as though I’ve known you forever. I can’t imagine living without you.” He folded her into his arms and kissed her. “You were always mine and I will forever be yours. Show me what we need to do.”

  As their thoughts flowed from one to another, the morning air glistened with sunlight. Beams of yellow light danced around them, enveloping them in a soft golden glow.

  Daria hadn’t slept well. Her mind refused to rest. Agitated thoughts looped around her fear of Travlor and the sheer lunacy of his plans. Like buzzards circling dying prey, thoughts continually bombarded her. I could kill him before this goes too far!

  The counter argument rose like a whip. Killing betrays everything Na-Kai taught me.

  The stealthy return, He is weakening; eventually the opportunity would present itself. Think of the people you would save!

  An adamant counter, That singular act makes a mockery of all that I know.

  A sly thought slithered forward, offering the ultimate bargaining chip. No one will ever know.

  Daria slammed her fists down on the bunk. “I would know!” The empty room reverberated with her anger. She sat up, “My God, I’m not ambiguous about this. I can’t and I won’t insert my will! There’s a reason and purpose for everything, even this madman. If I kill him, even to save other lives, I could initiate a worse reaction.” Daria rubbed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair, muttering, “Not only that, the healing gift would desert me and that’s a consequence I’m not willing to suffer … for any reason.”

  Though the sun had yet to rise over the watery horizon, she left the minimal comfort of her bunk and dressed. She thought about finding the young cook. He should have suffered no ill effects from his horrible accident and would be back on duty. As midnight black relaxed into early morning sapphire, she decided to talk to him.

  Stepping out of her room, she shivered from the damp cold and hurried through the dingy, narrow passages. Upon entering the galley, she saw the lone figure of Javier hard at work preparing the morning meal. His back was to her. Not wanting to startle him, she cleared her throat. “Good morning.”

  The rapid chopping motions ceased and the young Hispanic turned around to greet his visitor. “Ah, senorita! Buenos Dias, but I would say for you, is an early Dias indeed.” He grinned and motioned for her to join him as he continued his task.

  She approached the table and the sweet/spicy smell of onions, red peppers, chilies and freshly baked biscuits wafted through the air, making her mouth water. Her stomach woke with a sleepy rumble. “What are you making?”

  “Today I make my specialty: scrambled eggs with green chilies and chorizo.” He grinned shyly but kept chopping. “Do I make you hungry?”

  “It smells delicious and I feel like I could eat my weight!”

  Their shared laughter illuminated a curious bond that she felt for the young man. Javier dropped the knife onto the chopping block, ran his hands over his apron and grabbed an oven mitt. He loped to one of the ovens and pulled out a huge pan filled with steaming biscuits baked to a scrumptious golden brown. The smell of hot bread filled the air.

  He lowered the tray and popped one of the rolls onto a plate, sliced it open, and slathered a thick layer of butter on each side. Gallantly, he proffered the plate to Daria. “To ease the hunger.”

  Daria accepted his offer and settled on one of the tall stools. She took a bite and closed her eyes. The warm bread melted in her mouth. “Javier, I’ve never tasted better! This is wonderful!”

  The chef in Javier basked in the warmth of her high praise. He acknowledged her words with a brief bow, but hastened to return to the work at hand. He began his high-speed chopping again. Daria wanted to draw him out. “I was talking to the captain yesterday and he told me that all ships have a black box … you know, something to help find us if the ship goes down.”

  “Yes, is true.”

  She took another bite and finished the other half of her biscuit before she continued. “Do you know where the box is?”

  That innocuous question sounded decidedly false even to her. Javier paused momentarily and his gaze slid across the space separating them. He regarded her carefully then regained his rhythm. “No, but I know only the captain has the key.”

  Daria stifled her disappointment. “So, what if we sink and he’s too hurt to reach the box?”

  Javier shrugged. “Do not worry, senorita. I have made a few voyages with this captain and I am still here. Besides, we should make port in another day or so.” Javier shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. “If you are through, I must finish preparing breakfast or the crew will throw me overboard.”

  Daria stood up and nonchalantly brushed a few crumbs from her lap. “Well, thank you for your help, I’ve never been on the ocean before, and believe it or not, I was feeling a bit claustrophobic.”

  Good humor returned, Javier grinned in understanding. “It takes some getting used to.”

  Hoping she had allayed any reservations he might have regarding her intentions, she thanked him again for the biscuit and left him to his galley.

  As she stepped through the bulkhead, a flicker of movement caught her attention. She studied the area, but saw only an empty passageway. Still, a feeling of unease crept over her and although she couldn’t say why, she no longer felt like she was alone.

  The small community was already up and getting the day underway when Evan and Kyla entered the kitchen. The thought-touch they shared had left Evan in such a state of unabashed wonder that he was finding it almost impossible to regain a sense of reality. Throughout his solitary life, he had dimly hoped for the possibility of love. But even when he had tried to ope
n his heart to Daria, the lonely void at the core of his being had remained untouched.

  His wildest imaginings could never have prepared him for the power of the intimacy he and Kyla shared. The physical aspect of his love had been elevated to such an emotional and spiritual level that it defied description.

  They had dallied in each other’s arms and Evan felt as though his entire being had been filled. The essence that was Kyla had become part of his very soul. He had gazed upon her in undisguised rapture and her smile was blissful. “And it will always be thus.”

  Arm in arm, they entered the dining hall. Ni-Cio looked up from his table and waved them over. “Rogert, if you would organize the men in teams, we start recovery efforts today. Most everybody should be able to help, but I want the women and children to stay here. Once we get underway, we must finish the project as quickly as possible.”

  Murmurs of assent rippled throughout the hall.

  Evan held a chair out for Kyla and waited for the question he knew Ni-Cio needed to ask.

  “Evan, we look to you for advice. Within our memories, we have not had to dispose of many bodies due to our gift of transcendence. Those who actually tasted physical death were placed in hidden cairns at depth. In this manner, their remains became part of the ocean we love. Now, however, the numbers left in Atlantis are far too great for that type of burial. Is there another method you would suggest?”

  Evan took a moment to ponder Ni-Cio’s dilemma as he seated himself next to Kyla. “The problem is the time that has passed since the attack. There will be varying degrees of decomposition, so I don’t think the remains could or should be transported out of Atlantis. If there is a room or tunnel that can be spared, the bodies should be sequestered there and the whole area sealed off.”

  Ni-Cio’s face was grim. “By sealed, do you mean with the aid of explosives?”

  “Yes, I’ll help Rogert and Peltor ready the C4 and detonators and explain how to deploy them.”

  The Atlantean hesitated only slightly. “Very well, we will locate the appropriate space. Do you foresee any more complications with contamination?”

  Evan shook his head. “Until I can gather the necessary equipment, you’ll need full ’skins to provide air while you’re down there, and they’ve proven to be effective barriers. But upon your return, I will have you repeat decontamination procedures for the ’skins as well as yourselves.”

  “Understood.” Ni-Cio faced the others. “I do not know how long this will take. However, we still need to be able to move about the island without Evan’s aid. Those not directly involved with the kitchens get together with Aris, Mer-An, Kyla and Evan and get those disguises.”

  Aris stood. “We will come up with something.”

  Ni-Cio wrapped his knuckles on the table. “All right … in the words of our favorite topsider, let’s move. We have much to accomplish.”

  Daria wanted to run but she deliberately slowed her pace. In an effort to determine the source of her dread, she willed her mind to quiet and sent her awareness into the surrounding space. She wasn’t sure if it was due to her pregnancy, but her instincts were on high alert.

  She paused in order to scan more thoroughly, and the certainty that she was no longer alone could only mean one thing, “Travlor, I know you’re here.”

  The vague outline of a figure began to appear and as she watched, color eventually penetrated his whole form, bringing the Atlantean into focus. He cocked an eyebrow and stepped toward her. “My, my, your abilities are quite astounding. Why, even your beloved Na-Kai showed no cognitive awareness of my presence once I was masked.”

  “Well, for whatever reason, it’s become patently obvious to me and I don’t appreciate your sneaking around and spying on me.”

  “Ah, it is rather tiresome I must say. However, in light of your recent inquiries, I would suggest that being masked presents a definite benefit.”

  Daria’s anger peaked. She closed the distance between them and shoved a finger in his face. Her voice shook with escalating fury. “I refuse to be the instrument by which you attain godhood! You’re a monster and I won’t be a party to your …”

  Reaching the limits of his tolerance, Travlor grabbed her wrist in a grip as sure as death itself. Daria yelped with pain and struggled to escape his hold. But the brunt of a venomous rage had finally been released. Spittle sparked from Travlor’s mouth and his words erupted like a volcano. “YOU WILL DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO!”

  Like a red hot knife, cramping began low in her back and seared its way into her abdomen. Through a haze of nightmare red and indescribable pain, Daria recognized that she was about to lose her baby. Her knees gave way and she went down gasping for breath. “Stop! You’re killing her!”

  With the storm that rampaged through Travlor’s mind, she knew her plea hadn’t registered. She gathered her breath and screamed. “Please!”

  Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the pain ceased. She curled into a fetal position at the base of Travlor’s feet. She heard the scrape of uncertain footsteps and a labored voice as the Atlantean turned to go. “Do not try me again.”

  Daria did not rise even after the sounds of Travlor’s shuffling exit faded to silence.

  “Well, in theory, your description of a burka-type covering might work.” Aris tossed his writing tablet onto the table. Several hastily designed disguises covered the page, each one crossed out. “The problem with that idea is that the locals might view us as a religious sect. If that were to happen, I think they would be more wary of us than if they saw our normal skin fluctuations.”

  Evan considered the Atlanteans seated around him and was hard pressed to figure out a disguise that would work. At this moment, they were glowing a peaceful bronze and certainly looked harmless enough. But the first time any kind of emotion took hold, that would be the end of it. He only had to remember his reaction upon meeting Kyla for the first time to know they had to think of something.

  “What if we painted our faces with tattoos?”

  Kyla laughed out loud and patted Mer-An’s hand. “I do not think that quite meets the requisite of “fitting in.” The locals are simple people. If the island is suddenly inundated with tattooed strangers they might take exception.”

  However, Mer-An’s proposal caused an idea to form in Evan’s mind. “Maybe not paint or tattoos, but what about makeup?”

  No one commented. It was evident that they had no idea what he had suggested. Their blank looks begged for an explanation.

  “Terran women use it on their faces to hide irregularities of the skin. If we get wide brimmed hats, large sunglasses and heavy duty coveralls, it just might suffice.”

  Aris caught the idea and fielded a question. “It certainly is worth a try. How do we acquire these things?”

  ”I would say we go to town and procure the items.”

  Mer-An wrinkled her nose at Kyla. “This should be interesting.”

  “Just wait until you see the square.” Kyla glowed with anticipation.

  The recovery teams had just begun their descent down the dusty trail leading to the beach. Every man carried a duffel loaded with the tools necessary for the job. The explosives had been portioned out, and the men that carried them walked with extreme care.

  Bringing up the rear, Ni-Cio paused for a moment and haphazardly swiped at the stinging trickles of sweat that pooled in his eyes. Lightheaded, his first thought was that it was too early in the morning for the heat to have affected him. His insides seized in the grip of a powerful cramp and he dropped his burden. The dim thought that he was glad he wasn’t carrying a bag with explosives flitted through his mind before another cramp hit. It felt as though a hot lance had ripped through his stomach and he fell to his knees with a low moan. He teetered on the edge of the cliff.

  “Ni-Cio!” Rogert threw down his pack and ran back up the trail. He grabbed Ni-Cio’s shoulders and dragged his f
riend away from the steep precipice. Ni-Cio heard a hint of panic in Rogert’s order. “Bring some water!”

  But Ni-Cio shook his head and sat up. Whatever had crippled him had passed as rapidly as it assailed him. Rogert helped him stand. “Are you all right?”

  Ni-Cio dusted his knees and when he looked up he could see the apprehensive faces of his friends. “I feel fine.”

  “Should I get Evan?”

  Still baffled as to the cause of such a swift cramp, he shook his head and stood. “No, truly, I am fine now. Let us continue.”

  Rogert picked up the packs and followed his friend down the trail. Ni-Cio tried to imagine any reason that would help explain the sudden cramping. But all that came to mind was the same overpowering need to reach Daria. With her absence, a physical ache was lodged so deeply inside his heart that he struggled every waking moment just to keep moving forward. There were times the pain was so acute that it almost bent him in half. So, Ni-Cio drove himself and his men because he knew the only way for him to be rid of the pain was to have Daria in his arms again, safe and well. “Ah, love, you are my heart . . . Stay strong I will find you . . .”

  Ni-Cio’s thoughts flashed through the atmosphere. He poured the strength of his love out to Daria, wherever she was.

  Daria stirred and through the haze of mortal terror she had experienced for the safety of her daughter, a feeling of courage flowed into her soul and gave her the will to rise. When she found the baby unharmed, she stood and took a tentative step, and as she did, she knew with every fiber of her being that her beloved Ni-Cio had somehow breached the Travlor-imposed silence.

  A tugboat had pulled Travlor’s ship into the teeming harbor of Barranquilla, Columbia. Moored alongside one of the docks, Travlor, with a firm grip on his hostage, led his men down the gangplank. A soldier dressed in fatigues met him once he stepped onto the cement pier, saluted smartly, then offered his hand. Ignoring the overture, Travlor growled, “Where are the rest of your men?”