Lilith: Eden's Planetary Princess (The Michael Archives Book 1)

by Robinson, C. E.

  Collin took a deep breath. “I know Britt quite well. She’s not one to hold a grudge. She’ll forgive y…”

  “Britt probably already forgave me while she was still rooting around in garbage cans for food in Aribia. She was forgiving me and praying for me with her dying breath. Of course, she’ll forgive me. That’s not the point.”

  “Then you know you two will...”

  “You’re really not getting it. My relationship with Britt was so light-hearted. There was no tension between us. Neither one of us ever had to watch what we said to each other. It was the type of relationship Sipheria harps on us all the time to create. No tension between the Sisters. Only the purest, joy-filled love. No distortion in the emotions — every moment like a breath of fresh air. What I destroyed was not the capacity to forgive. What I destroyed was the simple easy joy. I destroyed the innocence between us.”

  Ugh, Collin thought, suddenly seeing the subtlety of the problem and how the Angels strive to love each other. This problem is way over my head. He took a deep breath and let it out with a hard sigh.

  “You can say that again,” Jess said as she too, sighed.

  Collin allowed another minute, then two minutes, then three to pass in silence. Nothing came to his mind. As early as it was, he was itching to escape to work. Maybe he could find some nice, boring paperwork to do, or clean out some trashcans.

  “So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he began, glad he sounded like someone in control of the situation. “I’ll get us some breakfast. You take a nice long hot shower, put on some makeup, and a nice pretty dress. Even if you feel like shit, no need to look like it.”

  Whatever possessed me to say that?

  Jess made a “Humph, Humph,” sort of sound indicating she found some humor in his comment.

  “And then I’m gonna find out where Britt is right now. At least then you’ll know whether to worry about running into her or not.”

  “Thanks, Collin. That’ll help a lot.”

  “Bill, Ed. Come here a minute. You gotta see this.” Skillit sounded concerned as she stood behind the bar at Bill’s Clear Creek Grill, watching Lieutenant Collin Striker walk briskly toward the Logistics office.

  “What is it, Skillit?” Ed asked as he put down the cloth he was using to wipe tabletops and stood beside her. Skillit just pointed as Collin hastily pulled his keys out of his pocket, fumbled for the correct one, unlocked the door, and quickly disappeared into the office.

  “It’s just Collin,” Bill said as he joined the other two.

  “Yeah, but he’s never up anywhere near this early. Especially on a Saturday morning. Have either of you heard of any alert being sounded?”

  “Skillit? You think just because Collin’s up early, we’re under attack?” Bill asked jokingly.

  “Collin has been working here for almost four hundred years. In all that time, never, not even once, has he been to work this early on a Saturday morning. So yeah, maybe we are.” Skillit continued to stare as she saw the outline of Collin’s large frame quickly move across the Logistics Office.

  “Florence is awake upstairs. I just heard her walking around,” Ed said. “So I’ll ask her, just in case.” Florence, among other duties, was the Town Marshall. Just like Bill, Ed, and Skillit, she had her own apartment upstairs, and even though the beams in the floor were thick, Florence’s heavy body still made the floors squeak.

  Skillit watched as Collin sat at one of the desks for a moment, got up, and walked quickly back to the door. He locked it and started walking toward Bill’s, his head hung, shaking it, talking to himself.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Bill said as he walked around the bar and into the prep area. If anyone could squeeze information out of him, it would be Skillit.

  “Mornin, Col,” Skillit said in her typical bright voice as Collin came through the door.

  “Hi Elizabeth,” Collin said as he sped across the floor to the bar, his legs in high gear. He sat down on a stool in front of her, head in hands.

  “What can I get ya?” she asked as she studied him carefully. He had called her Elizabeth. He never called her Elizabeth. He was also sitting at the bar instead of ‘his’ booth. Something was definitely wrong.

  “Your regular would be great.”

  She could hear the anxiety in his voice. It sounded like he was actually in pain. She quickly turned around, selected a large mixing container, carefully added some powders from several small drawers, cut up a tomato, mashed up some fresh ginger root, and poured in some coconut milk, fresh cool water, and juice from half a lime. As she was shaking the concoction, she turned her head slightly. “You’re up awful early this morning. Everything okay?”

  “No, not really,” Collin mumbled to his hands.

  Skillit poured him a big glass of her brew, added a straw, and sat it in front of him.

  “What is it this time?”

  “Nothing new. Angel trouble,” he mumbled in a soft voice as he tried a few times to find the straw with his mouth. He pulled in a big gulp when he finally did.

  “Oh, that’s good news. Seeing you up so early, I thought we were under attack.”

  “No. Being under attack would be better. Anything to distract me from having to go back home.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “Yep, that good,” Collin said to his straw.

  Skillit caught a glance of Ed poking his head down the stairs. She reached her hand up as if she was about to brush her hair back. With a few quick flicks of her fingers, she told Ed that it was a personal matter between Collin and some Angel.

  “That’s a relief,” Ed signaled back.

  “Is Florence here this morning?” Collin asked. This was another strange occurrence. Florence as the Town Marshall was someone Collin tried to avoid.

  “Yeah, I think she’s upstairs.”

  “Good. Can I put in an order for breakfast for two while I talk to her?”

  “Sure.” Skillit pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil from her multi-pocketed apron.

  After giving his order, Collin walked upstairs. A few moments later, he came back down. He seemed at least slightly relieved.

  “Good news?”

  Collin ignored the question and launched into a brief version of the Jess-Britt saga. Skillit had not taken any missions into Eden’s Material world lately. She had been on Oceania while Collin, Jess, Britt, and billions of other members of the Valkyrie and The Sisters of Mercy had continued to dive into the fire.

  For Skillit, only sixteen Oceania years, or Lunar2 (L2) years had passed since Jess, Britt, and Collin romped on the beach. For those incarnated into Eden’s Material realm, almost two hundred years would have passed. Considering all the premature deaths on Eden, for a go-getter like Britt, she could now be in her third lifetime in a row — sometimes with, but often without waking up into self-realization between incarnations.

  Collin also told Skillit what he just learned from Florence — Britt was going to spend at least one more physical life in Eden before returning to Oceania. That was good news for Jess, but not necessarily for him. The last thing he needed was a few more weeks of a weepy Angel sleeping on his sofa.

  “Skillit. Give me some help here, would ya,” Collin said. “She’s really in bad shape.”

  Skillit walked around the bar, sat down beside her friend, put her hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it.

  “This is really a tough one, Col. I’m no Angel, but I’ve lived around them long enough to understand what they prioritize. I know this kind of situation very well. They tell me the nightmares of their failures while trying to drink away their misery. It’s the reason why some Angels throw themselves into the most horrible situations during a physical incarnation. They’re so upset with past transgressions, they demand to be tested again and again until they feel like they’ve finally got it right — at which time, of course, Sipheria throws them into a new set of higher-level tests.”

  Skillit watched his face for awhile. Jess really did h
ave a problem, and there was no easy cure for it. After a few moments of silence, she saw a subtle change in Collin’s face, as if a solution, or at least a new thought, had struck him.

  “What do you think she should do, Collin?”

  “Well, I was just thinking that irrespective of how terrible it was, or how bad it hurts, the best thing to do is track Britt down now, and confess everything, apologize, and ask if there’s any way to move forward in the relationship, even if it’s damaged forever. The more she delays, the worse it’ll get. At least then, she won’t think of herself as a coward.”

  “Good idea Col. The best of advice,” she said, giving him a solid smack on the back. “Maybe you should try that yourself. I just saw Frank getting off a ship first thing this morning. If you’re trying to patch up this thing with Josie, I suggest you see him first. Start with the easy part.”

  “I thought Frank wasn’t due back for another few years or so. And, what do you mean, Frank will be the easy part? He hates me. Remember?”

  “Something must have gone wrong with his mission,” Skillit said. “He looked really beat up and pissed-off. And yeah, Frank will be easy. He’s a guy, remember? I can assure you that he doesn’t hate you. Regardless of how much you think of yourself as a player, Frank Haiguns was putting the finishing touches on cad when you were still in diapers.”

  Then, without looking up from the table he was cleaning, Ed chimed in. “I know for a fact that the term ‘cad’ came into existence because of Frank.”

  Skillit laughed, but Collin did not look up. “And if you think Frank was pissed about what you did to Josephine, just wait till you talk to Wrenn,” Skillit added. “I really wanna be there when that happens.”

  Collin scratched his name to the tab and picked up the large bag with two breakfasts inside. Mentally, he started to prepare himself to deal with Jess and then see Frank. After that, he would see Josephine. Assuming he was still in one piece after Frank and Josephine, he would find Wrenn.

  This was going to be bad. This day could, in fact, climb to the top of his list of ‘worst days ever’. Considering how many nightmarish lives Collin had lived on Eden, ‘worst day ever’ was really saying something. He reached the door and called back sarcastically. “And thanks for all your help. I feel so much better now.”

  Chapter 12

  Waiting on the Gods

  One man’s God is another man’s demon. Such is the nature of Satania.

  —Lieutenant Colonel Pasiel Pegasus

  The Celestial Realm of Planet Urantia

  Mansion World I Space: Continent of Atlantis

  Prince Caligastia’s Palace

  Oh jai jai I, jai jai Oh Guru Patanjali!

  Oh jai jai I, jai jai Oh Lord Rahu!

  Oh jai jai I, jai jai Oh Pundit Chismael!

  On and on they went. Ceaselessly. Endlessly. Hour after hour. Day after day. Pegasus had been sleeping a lot. It was disturbing to know that the lullabies she had been falling asleep to were from the pundits chanting their songs of worship to their false Gods.

  For her whole life, Pegasus had hated these fiends. And now, Lord Smigyl himself had charmed her. She had left herself perfectly defenseless while she waited in the Lanonandek cockpit for her passengers. She did not have her firearm in her hand. She had not flicked the cover off the red button. She had not rested her finger on the button at all times. She had not prepared her wings.

  Her wings could be extended into short, narrow swords for self-defense. But that was not a configuration her wings naturally flowed, so it could take several minutes to get them there. At the same time, she realized she was truly deceiving herself if she thought she could stop the powerful Lord Smigyl from doing absolutely anything Lord Smigyl wanted to do to her. Once Smigyl had left and the door to the hangar had closed, she essentially belonged to him if he wanted to take her. Kuko Kiena would have been disappointed in her poor performance.

  After Smigyl departed, Pegasus saw only one other individual in the hangar besides her. The only sound she heard was that of the pundits chanting in the background. She again fell asleep.

  It was smell that first hit her senses. There were no pheromones of aggression or fear, only curiosity. The smell faded. Sleep returned. What seemed like only a few minutes later, she heard something. It was wood scraping against concrete.

  “Oh, we must be quiet now, Shorinam.” She heard a soft whisper. “She is a very important pigeon.”

  Pegasus eased into wakefulness. It was unlikely they would pump poison into the hangar while Smigyl was inside, so once he departed and the door closed behind him, she put on her breathing apparatus, her headgear and her gloves, just to be safe. She opened one eye and looked at the analyzer. No sign of anything unusual.

  She heard just one friendly heartbeat. Curiosity got the best of her when she heard the tiniest clicking sound just outside her right window. She silently rolled the window down. As she turned, she saw a black patch of unruly hair slowly appear, and then a dark brown face covered with eager expectancy. The short little man had a sense of awe flowing out of him as he stuck his head in as far as he could so he could fully study the cockpit.

  “Oh, Shorinam. This is most excellent. A delightful sight.” It seemed to Pegasus he was whispering to himself at the same level when she had first heard him. Apparently, he was unaware that he would sound louder now that his head was only a few millimeters from her amused face.

  She did not want to startle the little fellow, so she began to slowly stretch as if she were just waking up. He appeared to notice her movement. Careful not to touch her, he pulled his head out of the window, and then fixed his eyes on her.

  Pegasus turned her head and studied him carefully. He was pleasing to look at — a simple face — not really handsome — not at all rugged. To Pegasus, he seemed quite cherubic. Clearly, this was not Lord Smigyl again, assuming the first fellow actually was Smigyl. Even with his innocent face and happy heart, he could still be a suicide bomber.

  But as she thought about it, it made less and less sense they would kill her. She was not a target of any particular military or political concern. No one in his right mind would risk that level of war over her and a transport craft that would not survive the attempt.

  “You must be an exceptionally clever pigeon to understand all of this,” Shorinam said as he gazed at the cockpit controls. He was quite careful with his words, ensuring that he did not confuse the pigeon by calling her ‘intelligent’, for he well knew that pigeons did not practice his master’s techniques of deep meditation, and therefore did not contact the field of pure intelligence. On Atlantis, even the children knew that one could only become intelligent by their minds contacting the field of pure intelligence.

  Pegasus chuckled to herself, his simple candor amusing her.

  He continued. “And oh how happy we both are to be on this journey together. We get to accompany the greatest of all Gurus. Guru Patanjali! And we get to be so close all the way to Eden!” Shorinam was beaming in bliss. “Have you ever met my master before?”

  It took a couple of seconds for Pegasus to realize that the ‘we’ about whom Shorinam was speaking was she and he. It made her smile. There were millions of very impolite things Pegasus wanted to say about Patanjali right now. But Shorinam was so delighted to be his master’s servant, it was impossible for her to deflate him with her true opinions. She decided to be nice.

  “Hello. My name is Pasiel Pegasus. My friends call me Pegasus, or just Peg. No, I have not yet met your master. This will be a special trip, I’m sure.”

  His head danced and bobbed atop his skinny neck. His eyes sparkled. “I am Shorinam, the great Guru Patanjali’s primary servant. I worked very hard to get here. And now, here I am!”

  Why yes you are, Pegasus thought to herself, wondering what would be the best thing to say next. Then it came. “I am honored to meet anyone who follows with such devotion, Shorinam. How may I serve you?”

  His mouth widened. He pulled his head back. A gre
at pilot, a pilot so wondrous that she would be transporting his master, not even to mention his master’s God, all the way to Eden, and this great one was offering to be of service to Shorinam? For a minute, he remained frozen. Pegasus could see his brain churning, occasionally his mouth moving as he considered one response, then another.

  “If you have seen my devotion to my Guru Patanjali, then you have already served me! Today, Shorinam is fulfilled.” He looked as if he had fallen into rapture. Pegasus was expecting the conversation to continue, but instead he quickly climbed down his ladder and scurried away. Halfway to the door, he stopped, turned, and ran back. He retrieved his ladder, and then disappeared out the door.

  The pundit’s chants continued ceaselessly in the background as the days crept past. Finally, Pegasus awoke to two loud raps on the hangar’s door. She hesitated a second, and then spoke. “Come in?”

  The door flew open, hitting the wall with a crash. A man busted through the doorway, his eyes to the ground, shaking his head as he approached Pegasus. It was Lord Smigyl again. She started to remove her headgear, but he held up his hand to stop her. “No need. We’ll be leaving soon,” he said right outside her window.

  Lord Smigyl penetrated Pegasus’ psyche, analyzing where she was in determining the reason for his anger.

  “Peg, I’m sorry for the delay.” He paused. “By the way. Did you enjoy the chanting as much as I did?”

  Smigyl focused on his delinquent sons so his anger and sarcasm appeared genuine, doing his best to hide the deep sense of joy he was actually feeling. Over the past days, Lord Smigyl had been enjoying a different type of chanting from secret pundits working deep in the bowels under Prince Caligastia’s Palace, where Angels were plucked and their Morontial filaments used to manufacture Nephilim, new beings completely loyal to him.

  “My Lord.” Her voice was a bit muffled through her breathing equipment. “It actually helped me catch up on some sleep.”