by JB Penrose
Peter tried to keep his temper under control. He’d been unprepared for Iscar’s arrival, and worse, he hadn’t prepared Rachel for Iscar. Iscar primarily operated to benefit himself; his title of Septorian was a plain indication of that. Everything about Iscar irritated him, and every time Gabriel spoke, Peter was even more irritated.
“Guardian,” Gabriel stepped forward, “how may I assist you?”
“Stop with the titles!” Peter shouted. He wanted to hit something and the big man would have been a perfect punching bag. “I’m not like Iscar – I don’t need that kind of patronage. Just call me Peter, or if you like you may refer to me as Kerroon.”
“Kerroon, then.” Gabriel stopped himself at Peter’s intense expression. “I’m honored to use your name,” he finished quietly.
“If you want to help, tell me where is Delphi?”
“The city is hidden inside the Himalayan mountain range,” the PriMajor answered without hesitation.
“In the Himalayan Mountains?”
“Inside one of the mountains,” Gabriel clarified. “Delphi has developed for over 1,000 years in anticipation of the Spokesmon’s arrival. It is uniquely beautiful.”
“So I’ve heard,” Peter grumbled. He didn’t understand anything from the answer but it helped to believe Gabriel wouldn’t withhold information. “Why should I trust you? You work for Iscar.”
“I serve the Oracle, not the Septorian. I didn’t know I would remain here myself until the Oracle instructed me to stand with the Guardian - you.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet. How do you know I have the Oracle, as you call it?”
“Until today I never believed there could be another Oracle,” Gabriel admitted. “I’ve spent my life in Delphi and my devotion is to the Oracle, there. But immediately upon my arrival I sensed the touch of your dreamstone, and It instructed me in a most powerful way to protect you as my sole mission; a mission which I accept with full heart.”
Peter shrugged. He had a feeling there was nothing he could say to deter Gabriel, and wherever Gabriel would have gone, he would want to follow.
“Does this directive include showing me the way to Delphi?” Peter asked. Having a guide didn’t make him any more appreciative of Gabriel, but in his thoughts, he could hear Rachel reminding him to accept help where it’s given.
Gabriel nodded. “If you so desire I will take you there.”
“Alright,” Peter studied him. “Tell me how we’re going to get to Delphi. How long will it take?”
“Without interference, it will take about ten days from the states.”
“Interference? You said it would take Iscar a few hours.”
“Do you have a galactic ship?”
Peter sighed. It was never as easy as it should be. “What kind of interference?”
“The mountain protects itself. Entrances have been known to open to mishpacha or close to strangers. And the Septorian will most certainly have patrols to detain us, as well.”
“Patrols? But - you’re the PriMajor. Why would they stop you?”
“I do not fool myself that the Septorian will easily forgive my betrayal. In any case, it’s you he seeks to delay. He will most probably use the Seven against us.”
“The Seven?” More obstacles! “And that is. . .?”
“The Seven is made of Delphi’s most powerful psi-talents. We seven worked as a team, combining our talents to accomplish a set objective, sometimes to move a large object around Delphi, maybe to locate a lost person or pinpoint an energy somewhere in the world.”
“Or to stop an old crewmate.” Peter shook his head at the number of mounting obstacles. “Psi-talents?” he asked. “And there are seven of you?”
“All of Delphi’s citizens are blessed with a specialized talent, some with more than one.” Gabriel subconsciously fingered the circled-seven chevron on his sleeve. “I don’t think the Septorian will replace me – our group is not widely open to all citizens and few have the training required to participate. But my absence will not stop him from using them against you – or us.”
The sun had climbed higher in the sky but it didn’t take the chill from the breeze and it felt as though there was a storm on the horizon.
Peter was torn; his first desire was to immediately find Rachel but he knew better than to wildly or blindly chase Iscar. If Iscar had a thousand years to prepare then Peter needed at least a few days. “Let’s get going.”
Without hesitation, Gabriel prepared to follow him. Peter lowered himself over the edge of the cliff and climbed down to the cave that once hid the Aurora. The PriMajor was an agile climber and the descent was quick and quiet. Peter wished he could have made it more challenging; it might have dampened his anger slightly to see the PriMajor struggle.
The cavern felt strangely empty. Only hours ago, it was full of laughter and excitement mingled with the sadness of good-byes; it was the first and last time they were all together. The only evidence of activity remaining now was the pile of ash where Andrew incinerated the trash accumulated from the ship’s repairs.
Peter looked for something that Rachel had touched, any piece of her left behind; his heart broke from their separation and he hoped Rachel knew he would never stop searching for her.
Gabriel remained at the entrance, staring with wonder at the worn leather valise sitting on the ground just inside the cave’s entrance. His furtive glance to Peter revealed a childlike guilt, and then quickly resumed his usual, more formal stance of attention.
“Just give it to me,” Peter held out his hand. “If I thought you were going to steal it we’d be fighting already.”
Gabriel picked it up the bag and passed it to Peter with a sense of devotion. “I am here to serve the Guardian.”
Peter took the valise with a release of tension. It was a small test, and unintended, but he couldn’t help feeling more secure when it rested in his hands. The Oracle, as Gabriel called it, was almost complete – missing only Iscar’s tasht, but of other value was the ancient scroll that belonged to Rachel, the Words of Thunder she hadn’t had the opportunity to read. It contained the words of Revelation John wrote during his time on Patmos - times of near-madness, but which also held valuable insight as to what mission the Spokesmon was to accomplish. Peter shook his head; none of this would help her now.
While Gabriel loaded supplies into the hovercraft, Peter filled their canteens with water from an internal spring and surveyed the cavern for the last time. There were enough supplies left for any future visits, and a replicator to handle emergency situations. There was a selection of defensive weapons but Peter didn’t sense the need for such caution. Through their immortal lifetime, the Orygin’s crew had been divinely protected against real threats.
His brother was always prepared; Peter vowed to be more cautious in the future, and slipped a hunting knife into his pant pocket. What they needed for the Himalaya’s they would have to purchase in India and Peter would have a better idea what defensive weapons to consider. Right now, as badly as Peter wanted to get started, he needed to visit Mags and James; they deserved to know what happened to their daughter.
He motioned Gabriel to take the pilot’s seat. The PriMajor started the craft and patiently awaited Peter’s direction.
“We’re headed to New Columbia,” Peter stated. “Do you know where that is?”
The PriMajor nodded without offense and the craft lifted smoothly into the sky. The DayStar hung over their shoulders in the background – never leaving its place in the sky above them. It was a constant reminder of everything that needed to be accomplished, by the Aurora’s crew, as well as the Spokesmon.
Peter opened the valise to retrieve the roleau and let it settle into his lap. It was strangely silent to him when earlier it worked as a transmitter for the voices of the Aurora’s crew. Either it did not work once the Aurora left Earth’s atmosphere, or it needed the Spokesmon’s influence to channel the voices. Gabriel gasped as Peter unwrapped the beautiful orb.
&nbs
p; “Why so surprised? I thought you said the Oracle communicated with you?” Peter tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, somewhat jealous that it spoke to someone beside himself.
“This one must be three times as large as Delphi’s Oracle.”
“Five times the size, actually.” Peter had a thought, and as an impulse, he held it toward Gabriel, who recoiled slightly. “Go ahead, touch it,” he invited. “I want to know if it communicates with you.”
Tentatively, Gabriel let his palm rest on the globe. A cloudy mist swirled inside as the only reaction from the orb. “I sense nothing; at least, nothing at this moment. I get the sense that it wants to be complete but in Delphi, I feel its communication, in my heart more or less.”
Peter replaced the roleau in his valise. “I want you to swear you will tell me of any," he stressed the word, “any communication you receive from the roleau. That means feelings, instructions, images; anything it might communicate to you.”
“You have my word, Guardian.”
* * *
Iscar couldn’t tell if she was mad or scared. The Spokesmon peeled herself from his hold as soon as they regenerated aboard Septor-I and faced him with her hands on her hips. He had to smile; she was just like her mother.
“Where am I?” Her eyes searched the room for clues.
“Aboard Septor-I, Delphi’s galactic transport.” He motioned around the cabin. “These are your quarters.”
“I will not be your prisoner!”
His laugh only irritated her more and Iscar softened his expression. He would have to use more caution.
“On the contrary, this is the Spokesmon’s ship, just as Delphi is your city! I hope you’re comfortable. You are the Commander of Septor-I.”
“Then I command you to return me at once!”
“Spokesmon, I beg of you. Delphi is something you must see,” he urged her. “It’s your city!”
“I don’t appreciate being kidnapped just so you can show me your city,” she told him hotly.
“I wasn’t trying to kidnap you,” he told her. “But, Spokesmon, please see Delphi before you make any decisions.”
“Kidnapped is how I describe being taken against my will!” Her face flushed.
“Spokesmon, again my apologies,” Iscar spoke softly but his heart raced at the fear she might still reject his offer. “Delphi is a very special place! It’s your city.”
“So you keep saying.” Rachel turned. The challenge in her eyes stopped his approach. “I demand you take me back to Peter right now.”
He bristled at the suggestion. Truly, he promised mentally, this is our destiny.
There was no telepathic connection as he would converse with another talent in Delphi, but Iscar had the sense she understood.
“Delphi was built for the Spokesmon,” Iscar said quietly.
“And you’re sure I’m the Spokesmon?”
“Do you deny it?”
Resigned, she shook her head. “It appears you’ve had a while to build me into your world, yet this is the first time I’ve heard of Delphi, aside from the history. Then we’re headed to Greece?”
“No, this is not the Delphi recorded in history. Our, your Delphi,” he corrected himself, “is more than a city; it has a soul. Only those chosen by the Oracle have found an entrance to Delphi.”
“What Delphi would be complete without an oracle?”
Iscar ignored her sarcasm, glad only for the opportunity to explain further. “This oracle is not a myth. It’s the term given to my tasht. You know about the pieces we each carry?”
“I’ve had some experience with them.” She moved around the room, fingering small statues or artifacts but consciously keeping her distance from Iscar.
“We call it an oracle because it communicates through dreams to those who have found their way to our hidden city. Those dreams are what brought everyone to the mountain to build Delphi as your headquarters.”
“And why did it tell you I would need a headquarters?” She chose an apple from the fruit tray before she turned around, and waited for his answer.
“Your arrival is the beginning of the Awakening! You know-”
“I know what I know,” she interrupted tersely, “but headquarters and spaceships and warriors? I do not need an army. I don’t care what your oracle told you.” Her grip tightened around the fruit in her hand and her knuckles whitened. The apple she held might have been a weapon, but she contained her anger.
“You can’t be naive enough to think you can operate, or even survive without some kind of support behind you. You can’t have power without protection, especially not in this world.”
“I don’t want power. And if you presumed that I would want an army then your Oracle doesn’t know me either.” She put the apple back on the tray and approached him boldly. He stepped back involuntarily.
“Spokesmon,” Iscar needed to defend his actions, “I fear Kerroon and the others have poisoned you to my true intentions. Delphi was conceived through the Oracle’s instruction. I,” he stammered, “we, have all waited and worked for lifetimes to be at this moment.”
With an intake of breath, she started to protest. Her expression first tensed with anger, and then it twisted with indecision. “All right,” she nodded reluctantly. “I’ll see Delphi. But I won’t promise more than that.”
Relieved, he let go his pent breath. It had taken centuries to perfect everything for the Spokesmon’s arrival. Dreams, visions - waking or sleeping, everything he had done since the priests took Jesus to the cross had been done to prepare for this meeting. Finally, he was able to complete tsheuva, and making amends with God was a long-time coming.
“I believe with all my heart that once you have seen the beauty of Delphi, tasted her fruits and breathed the air, you will forgive my actions.”
“We’ll see about that.” She turned as a short dismissal and poured herself a drink from the water pitcher on the table. “I’m not making any promises. You know of course that Peter will find me – find Delphi. And you,” she added.
“I’m sure he will try,” Iscar admitted. “We have some time before we arrive. Would you like to see the ship?” he offered. “Septor-I is just one of Delphi’s wonders.”
Her glance around the room was cursory, and she shook her head. “No. Thanks. I’ve seen the Aurora and the technology is similar. I’d like to collect my thoughts before I see this Delphi you’re talking about.”
Iscar tried to hide his disappointment. Septor-I used the combined technology of the Orygin and Earth; he was sure not even Reider could reproduce all the features Septor-I offered.
Iscar motioned to the table. “The fruit is from Delphi and the bread is fresh, not replicated,” he reinforced the description. “There’s a selection of clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change. Anything else you might need can be easily replicated.” Iscar motioned to the unit mounted in the wall.
“Of course,” she agreed absently. “I know how that works.”
Iscar stepped backward toward the door. He paused.
“Spokesmon? I feel I should ask.” Introductions were so awkward. “What would you feel most comfortable with me calling you? I’m sure, like the rest of us, you have used many names.”
She thought for a moment about hearing Iscar call to her. In her childhood, he called her Roko, but that was a name she wanted to hear from her parents, or maybe Peter.
“Rachel will be fine,” she answered curtly.
He clasped his hands to his heart and bowed slightly. He backed into the corridor and pulled the door closed between them.
It was not the introduction he thought he’d have. There was no telepathic thread as all of Delphi shared, and she certainly didn’t hide her emotions very well; her anger permeated the room.
Nevertheless, Iscar was content this much of his vision had come to pass; the Spokesmon was aboard Septor-I and she would see Delphi. Iscar programmed the cyto and regenerated on the ship’s bridge.
The eyes of his crew w
ere glued to his every move the moment he appeared on the bridge. He gave a cursory nod to the crew and immediately noticed Gabriel’s position at the command station was vacant. “Where’s the PriMajor?”
“He didn’t return with you and the Spokesmon,” Commander Gideon informed him. “And,” he leaned forward, “I can’t sense anything. What happened down there?” Gideon was really asking if his brother was dead, although Iscar considered it unlikely that Kerroon would hurt Gabriel.
Gideon and Gabriel were twins, and both were keen paranormals who shared a telepathic connection that closely bonded them. However, Gideon’s anxiety of losing the connection with his brother was overshadowed by his opportunity to step into the PriMajor’s duties. The competition between them had always been obvious.
“As I regenerated with the Spokesmon, Kerroon tried to break the transfer. Gabriel took control of the situation.”
“Kerroon?”
“But we saw the Aurora launch!”
He raised a hand to stop the crews’ questions. Iscar was sure Kerroon’s reason for remaining on Earth was in the Spokesmon’s quarters.
“None of that matters now. Our job is to take the Spokesmon to Delphi.” With a wave of his hand, the crew returned to their functions on the ship. He could feel the excitement bubbling from each of them; he felt it in himself. But there was still work to be done.
“Have the Seven ready to meet as soon as we arrive,” he sent the telepathic instruction to Gideon, “and let me know if your brother tries to communicate with you,” he added aloud for emphasis.
“Are you expecting trouble?”
“Where Kerroon is involved I always expect trouble.”
Kerroon had never understood him, and Iscar had long-since stopped trying to explain his actions. It might have been centuries since he and the crew had been in contact but it was obvious nothing had changed. He had no doubt Kerroon would attempt to follow them, and that was a problem complicated by Gabriel’s absence.
Iscar pondered the PriMajor’s actions. Gabriel being taken as a prisoner was hardly a possibility, and although there was never a reason to distrust Gabriel before, he was certain this disappearance was a bad omen. Iscar let his mind dip momentarily into the universal Stream of Consciousness but it found no response from his second-in-command.
