Josiah gave Sam a tired look, “If I ever agree to something like this again, someone shoot me.”
Nora turned an annoyed look on him, “Don’t be so crabby, you did a wonderful job.” She turned to Sam as they headed for the door, “He got all four of them a boost in their ratings and gave them a week’s worth of training. He even held an informal class during lunch, and by mid-afternoon he had drive and systems people following him around while he told them about some of the things you do here.” She grabbed Josiah’s arm with both of hers and smiled at him, “Commander Ridge was totally flabbed at what we did for his group, and he told me he was going to let Admiral Jacks know how grateful he is for sending us.”
All Josiah could mumble was, “Sixteen hours.”
“It was fifteen and a half; don’t exaggerate.”
#
Allea, his Mother and a dozen other people had come out on Sunday afternoon to see them off. Josiah was reduced to relative unimportance as he stood in the shade of the Falcon’s starboard stub wing with his Father and Sam, “Dad, it’s nice that you invited Marty and his family to come and meet Nora.”
“I didn’t invite them.” He gave Josiah a resigned look, “Since word got around, it’s made me regret not charging admission. I have this creepy feeling that everyone knows about that ring in your pocket except Nora.” His expression took on a serious cast, “Have you made a final decision?”
“Oh, maybe; maybe not.”
Paul would have pushed it further except that Nora and her entourage were approaching. Josiah got in one quick questioning look at Sam, “All loaded, kid.”
His Mother separated Nora from the crowd and gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Nora, I will be very unhappy if you don’t make plans for coming back here.”
That statement would seem to have been intended only for Nora, but Josiah knew it was aimed right at him. Nora compounded his discomfort with a questioning look over her shoulder, “I suppose that depends on who invites me.”
PICNIC
She was still smiling at him as she brought the reactors up off idle. Josiah tapped a set of coordinates into the nav system, “Get a free-flight clearance, and go here.”
She looked at the latitude and longitude he had entered, “That…looks like southwest Arizona.”
“The Painted Desert National Park, to be exact.”
#
“You want me to land on a mesa?”
He pointed to a small isolated mesa at their two o’clock, “That one looks good.”
Confusion was back in her head as she settled the Falcon onto the top of a vertical piece of real estate that was about the size of a hikiball field.
“Advise ATC that we are down for systems check and evaluation, and shut it down.”
Josiah opened the rear hatch and then one of the storage compartments. The first thing he took out was a green case. He stuck the sharp probes of each of the ten devices that it contained into the ground, and turned them on. When he was finished, they formed a rough circle around the Falcon. Nora came and sat on the steps, “Why are you putting shriekers out?”
He went past her and got more stuff out of the compartment, “Because we are having a picnic, and I do not care to invite the local critters.”
He laid out a large blanket in the shade of the stub wing and put the two baskets on it. He walked over to Nora, bowed, and held out his hand, “If the lovely lady will join me.”
She had a shy grin as she placed her hand in his, and he helped her off of the steps. “Thank you, sir; I would love to.” As she sat and crossed her legs, she looked around at the stark, spectacular scenery and the overall improbability of the situation, “How much does a Falcon cost?”
“Huh?” He looked up from the basket he was pulling things out of and looked at the ship they were sitting next to. He returned his attention to the food, “Fourteen mil, give or take.”
“And you’re using it to take your girlfriend on a picnic in a National Park that is off limits to air and ground traffic? What would the taxpayers think?”
He smiled and tapped the red on his left shoulder as he handed her a plate, “Many things are possible, besides, my parents are taxpayers; they packed the baskets.”
#
Two hours later, they were lying with their heads propped up against a large blanket roll watching the colors in the land before them intensify as the sun neared the horizon.
“I’ve received orders.”
It took a moment. Nora, abruptly, sat up. The confused look was back, “WHAT? How could you get orders? You work for the Admiral. Where are you going?”
Josiah sat up and crossed his legs. He got her to cross hers so she was right in front of him. He took both of her hands in his; she had a very worried look on her face.
“Actually, the orders are from Allea and my parents.”
If she had looked confused before, there was no describing this expression.
Josiah reached into his right breast pocket and palmed the ring, “Allea has always wanted a big sister, and my parents are near fanatical about having you as a daughter-in-law.” He opened her left hand and slid the spectacular and glittering, twin spectrum ring onto her finger; he looked into her dark, wide eyes, “And I have lost the ability to imagine a day without you. Lady Nora Parente, will you marry me?”
“I…I…ah….”
She was near gasping for breath; he started to wonder if she was going to pass out, “I believe it is customary at this point to provide the gentleman with…”
“YES!” And she jumped him.
The sun was halfway below the horizon when she calmed down enough to look at the ring, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s a custom job. Remember Marty Napoli and his family?”
She nodded, “The jewelers…oh!”
“Right, it was a special project that he had been planning for decades.”
Josiah explained the history of the stones in the ring and how the wedding band would fit. When he was finished, she thought for a few seconds before asking the obvious question, “It’s not important to me, but how much does something like this cost?”
He told her. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her
By the time he got her breathing normally again, there was only a blue glow where the sun had been, and the stars were filling the sky; one bright spark of light in the northern sky shown like a beacon. They both watched the abandoned Hahn-Wright Survey Station pass above them until it lost the light of the setting sun.
AFTERMATH
Tuesday, 8 September 2133: 2240 hours Uniform Time (UT).
Silence…total…black…peaceful…silence….
#
There was no sound…no feeling…no pain…no thought…there was just…drifting…peaceful…silence….
#
???...”Cĭ jiān, cĭ jiān”…pain…darkness…silence…
#
PAIN…”Easy, easy”…pain…”West, if you can…”…darkness…peaceful…
#
The smell of his Mother’s meatloaf filled his lungs and mind as he walked along the path that went around the low hills between the Westland plant and his home. The stream that flowed next to it was as clear and calm as ever. Half way there, he stopped to pick a juice block from the cooler cabinet in Mister Seymour’s store. It was nice of Mister Seymour to move the drink cooler out to the path because the path seemed extra long today.
He sat down on the steps in front of Mister Seymour’s store and watched…
Something touched his right arm; there was nothing there.
Pain…PAIN.
#
Something was after him. Until he knew what it was, he could only hide in a doorway and stick his head out for brief looks down the dark hallway. He had an idea; he took the two steps to the weapons locker next to the pilot’s seat and removed a Mills 3mm.
Something was touching him; there was nothing there.
Fire started to spread up his legs; there was not
hing there.
A distant voice from far down the endless hallway called his name, “West, we’re here; if you c--”
He jumped into the middle of the hallway and started shooting.
PAIN…darkness…quiet…
#
Something was very familiar about this place. He remembered that gentle stream from somewhere…he couldn’t remember. The gravel path was the same as…as…he couldn’t remember.
The weather was perfect with a few puffy clouds turned pink in the setting sun; there was a taste of cotton candy in his mouth. There were pine trees, maple trees, and oak trees scattered over the gently rolling landscape. He walked past a table that had his old chess set in the middle of it. When he looked back, Marty and Kenny were sitting at the table playing a game of checkers; they had always loved checkers.
The path seemed to continue for as far as he could see down the valley between the mountain ranges…something about mountain ranges…he couldn’t remember. It was so peaceful, and it felt so good to just stroll along without a wonder or care in the world.
PAIN…darkness….
#
He was back on the path, but the gravel had turned to dirt, the trees were dead and there was a pain that felt like his whole body was on fire.
“West, you’re going to be ok.”
“Di…muhmm…you….”
“I think s…”
#
The weather was perfect as he strolled slowly along the gravel path and smelled the fields of wild flowers that he passed. He hoped that this path wrapped around the Earth. He looked behind him; the path and all of the land around it was empty of people. Well, that was ok; he liked the peace and quiet.
#
He didn’t know how long ago it was that he thought about there not being anyone else around…a few minutes…yesterday…a year ago…he couldn’t remember; it didn’t matter in this place of endless peace and beauty. But now, there was someone ahead of him.
Someone was sitting on a bench facing the stream; he…almost looked familiar. As Josiah got closer, the man on the bench stood up, straightened his jacket, and saluted.
Josiah looked down and realized that he was wearing his uniform; he returned the salute.
The man from the bench was a Marine and quite a bit older than Josiah. He had the stripes of a Master Chief Gunnery Sergeant. The stack of combat ribbons topped with two sets of wings over his left breast pocket probably eliminated the need for him to ever pay for his own beer.
“Good morning, Lieutenant; have a seat.”
Josiah looked around the quiet, pastel landscape, “Thank you, Sergeant, it has been a long walk.”
The Sergeant was as tall as Josiah, but he looked to have another fifteen kilos of solid muscle on him. His hair was mostly gray with a bit of brown and done in the close cut that combat troops preferred. He was wearing the dark, forest green daily dress uniform that the Marines had phased out forty years ago.
They sat and talked for…he couldn’t remember. The light never seemed to change; time never seemed to occur. He couldn’t remember what they talked about…except….
The Sergeant had his elbows on his knees and was bent over staring at the ground, “The worst part was when they said I was too old to go on anymore missions and retired me. Years later, when I was reactivated,” he turned his head to give Josiah a sad smile, “I thought they needed me again, but they said I couldn’t have any weapons and took everything I had.” He sat back up, “Since then, I’ve been looking tough and impressive and carting the brass around.”
“West…West…can you hear me?”
Josiah looked at the Sergeant, “Did you hear something?” The air seemed cooler.
The Sergeant stood up, and Josiah joined him. There was a cold breeze picking up.
The Sergeant took Josiah’s hand and gave it a firm grip, “Lieutenant, I want to thank you for giving me that last bit of pride and making my last day something that will be remembered. Always know that I gave you everything I had.” He braced to attention and saluted Josiah once more before turning and walking away down the path.
“West…Josiah…take deep breaths.” That voice was annoying.
Josiah called after the Sergeant, “Sergeant, who are you; what’s your name?”
The Sergeant stopped, turned, and said, “Hart Industries hull number 4P1167D. You know me as Kaleidoscope, sir.”
“West…it’s very important that you take deep breaths right now.”
Where the hell was that voice coming from?
He took a deep breath, then another. The landscape behind him was getting darker and kind of blurry. When he looked back, the Sergeant was gone.
“That’s good, now a couple of more deep breaths.”
Who the hell is that?
He started breathing deeply. The scene faded away, and he started to feel dull aches everywhere. He started to panic. He looked down at his right hand; someone was holding it, but no other hand was there.
“Relax, Josiah; you’re going to be ok. You’re at the Wheeling Medical Center in Atlanta. I’m Doctor Anita Balistra.”
He wasn’t feeling very good. He seemed to be floating face down and couldn’t feel much except the overall ache. His vision was blurry, and there was something wrong with his left eye. He thought he could see a face behind a shield looking up at him--a woman staring back at him, an image of a red circle over a mountain range, warnings, noise--the memory came roaring back, “Hhh…ow…maanny.”
Doctor Balistra anticipated the line of questions in his mind, “Kaleidoscope crashed on the south slope of the mountains; virtually all of the Hahn Station dropped onto the north side. Best estimates put the death toll at just over 58,000,” he felt his mind starting to freeze just as Balistra saw the monitor indicating the rising heart rate; she squeezed his hand, “but the lowest estimate on lives that you saved is three million.”
That seemed to help, “You have been here for three months in a series of tanks and grav-slings. Right now, you are still a mess, but things are going well, and you have my word that we will put you back together; you will walk out of here.
“Your wife is in a suite down the hall getting the best medical attention on the planet.” Josiah thought he could see a smile through the blur. “You should be in good enough shape to greet your daughter the day she’s born. Nora haunts me daily but you’re not in any condition to receive guests.”
She squeezed his hand again, “West, I never thought I’d ever talk to the President of the United States. Now, I’ve met him three times. I’ve never met a four star admiral before. Now, I have one calling me every day for a briefing and visiting me every week. I’ve never talked to a newsy before. Now, I give them a daily briefing and the Atlanta hotel system is overrun with them. It’s like this facility has become a focal point for the world. When you walk out that door, you had better be prepared for what you have done.”
She did something to something, “For now, sleep.”
Darkness…peaceful darkness.
#
The general babble in the crowded room quieted down as Doctor Balistra entered and mounted the podium.
“This is an advisory briefing only; there will be no questions taken. I have already briefed Lieutenant West’s wife and family, President Stanis, President Chiang, and Admiral Jacks.”
She began reading from a prepared statement, “At 2PM EST this afternoon, the medical team here at the Wheeling Medical Center reduced the dosage level of dissociative psychoactive drugs with which we have been maintaining an active mental state in the brain of Lieutenant West. His reaction to regaining consciousness was entirely normal for a person in his situation. I talked to him for a couple of minutes before returning him to a closed state of awareness. He was able to verbalize two words after I informed him of where he was and how long he had been here; I understood those words as ‘how many’.”
Balistra paused for a second and took a deep breath before continuing, “I believe, and the
rest of the team concurs, that the first rational thought that Lieutenant West had after a moment to adjust to the return to reality was to ask how many people had died.”
The noise level rose in the room, and Balistra had to hold her hand up to quiet them, “I told him. The medical monitors indicated that he had a bad reaction to that information, but when I told of the lives he saved, it appeared to calm him.
“We now believe that the worst is behind us. The obvious clarity in Lieutenant West’s mind confirms our indirect monitoring, and we are all breathing a sigh of relief. We fully expect to have him off of major life support equipment in two weeks and off of all support in four weeks. Thank you.”
Several of the newsies jumped up as she turned to leave. The dominant question that was shouted at her was, “When can we talk to him?”
She decided to take that one before she left the room, “At least six weeks as far as I’m concerned, but, in the end, it’ll be up to him.” She left the room with them still shouting questions at her back.
#
The 100 kilometer drop from the lift platform above the Cuban Regional Recreational Preserve was always fun. Admittedly, that early edge of fear that came with the first few times was gone, but the running jump over the side of the platform still put a grin on Josiah’s face. He adjusted the isolation and balance levels on the survival suit’s GS harness to a moderate 70kph fall and a reclined sitting position. Nora did likewise and slid up beside him.
Josiah West 1: Kaleidoscope Page 14
