by JB Penrose
Iscar took his seat at the command station. “Helmsman, set the course for Delphi. Take the slowest route; the Spokesmon wants some time to freshen up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Septor-I’s orbital-jump combined hovering just above the atmosphere and moving against the Earth’s rotation. Coupled with the ship’s top speed, travel time between long destinations was cut drastically.
Only strict training kept the crew from asking questions about the Spokesmon. They would never understand her reluctance; he didn’t understand it himself. But, he knew once she saw Delphi all her reservations would be erased.
Rachel was glad for some time to herself. Once again, she recognized the events happening were beyond her control. As if I had ever had control, she laughed ironically.
Closing her eyes, she recalled the conversation with an angel about healing her mother or saving Gail from Morrow’s gunshot. She’d been warned, “If you choose to help one, then you have chosen to help all.”
It didn’t matter to her, then or now, that her choice had a price tag; it forced her to finally acknowledge who she was. She accepted her responsibility as the Spokesmon. However, whatever those responsibilities were, she wasn’t prepared to discuss them with Iscar.
Still, Rachel couldn’t help her curiosity about Delphi, or even about Iscar. Although his size might have been intimidating, his composure was not. The black jumpsuit Iscar wore seemed formal against the backdrop of a sunrise in the Grand Canyon, but aboard Septor-I it was a part of the Septorian role he projected. She could tell he was the kind of man that would feel uncomfortable out of uniform.
The fact that Rachel couldn’t read the mind or emotions of Peter and the other crew members of the Aurora had been a relief after several centuries of being brushed by every friend or stranger she encountered; Rachel found it unnerving where Iscar was involved.
Work with Iscar? The idea made her heart race. Rachel didn’t need a city, and armies had never been a consideration for the Spokesmon. Still, she was curious what Iscar had prepared for her in Delphi.
Her quarters aboard Septor-I were somewhat elaborate for a spaceship. There were live flowers and plants, a matching sofa and chair with a desk in the corner, much like the hotel lobby programmed aboard the Aurora. The light panels that covered the walls, ceiling and floor were identical to the energy regeneration system aboard the Aurora. The dim illumination was balanced by the universal placement and she knew the replicator system used the poly-xenite John had discovered on Mars. The two ships were more alike than Iscar wanted to admit. Both had been fashioned after the Orygin that brought them to Earth.
In a set of smaller rooms on the Port side, she found darkened sleeping quarters and a lavatory. It would be nice to wash up, and as Iscar noted, she needed to change clothes. The reflection in the mirror was a startling reminder of how much had happened in the last 24 hours. Her hair was uncombed and her face smudged with dirt. She had worked through the night with the Aurora’s crew on the ships repairs, and her morning climb to watch the launch only added to the messy appearance she saw reflected in the mirror. Already, the Grand Canyon seemed long ago.
Rachel was glad to have declined Iscar’s offer of a tour; her appearance would not have made her desired impression. The water on her face was refreshing and she brushed through the tangles in her hair. A hot bath would have helped, but not now, she thought, and not here.
Feeling somewhat refreshed she chose to explore the wardrobe available. Through the centuries, clothes had always been a passion and she found a variety of styles to choose from in the closet.
Iscar and his PriMajor wore dark jumpsuits but Rachel couldn’t bring herself to put on something so official. She considered the selection of robes and tunics in a wide range of colors, fabrics and designs, as well as a choice of western styles such as a jacket with a belted full skirt; none of these clothes reflected how she felt.
Rachel knew the importance of a first impression and it seemed especially important at this moment. She reached for a simple blue tunic that fell to her knees and added a belt woven of leather throngs. It was more comfortable than a full robe, and Peter always thought she looked great in blue. She slipped on her soft-soled boots and studied the reflection in the mirror. The image looked like she stepped backward in time. Just like fashion, she thought, to come-around again.
Now that she was comfortable Rachel surveyed the room more closely, curious about the extent of the technology Iscar had developed on Septor-I. She wondered if it had the same ability to change the environmental forms as did the Aurora and she searched for the control panel. Unable to find anything on the wall she moved her search to the desk. Her fingertips stretched over the smooth surface and finally found an activation switch underneath the table’s edge. Silently, a control panel rose from the desktop.
Her hand went to the screen; not touch activated, she realized when the screen remained blank. Rachel cleared her throat. “Activate?”
It had only been a whim to change the room’s environment; mostly Rachel wanted to show Iscar her familiarity with his alien technology. Her spirits lifted when the screen began its startup sequence.
“Environment.” She saw the menu on the panel change. “Springtime, daylight, Central Park,” she instructed aloud. The setting John had demonstrated on the Aurora was the only environment she could think of at the moment.
For a split second, her surrounding reverted to their original state – the small charcoal cubes of poly-xenite mined on Mars. Then swiftly in a blur of motion, the sofa was replaced by a park bench shaded by a wispy willow with tendrils that brushed the tips of the grass lawn. The desk where she stood changed into a large boulder, seeming odd with a computer screen rising from the top surface. Only the energy panels that lined the room remained unchanged.
She dropped to the grass to absorb a moment of relaxation, and as she pushed her fingers through the blades of grass, the golden band glittered on her hand. She rolled to her back recalling her magical wedding to Peter before the Aurora’s launch. They were all together, her parents, and Peter’s brother, Andrew, and John Reider – ultimately discovering he was her uncle. Rachel’s memory would have to last; her honeymoon had yet to happen. She concentrated on Peter’s face tried to let the feeling of his presence linger.
My Beloved. I know you will follow me. I know you will find me. And I know – we are to do this together. Just be careful, she added as a final thought.
With that thought she removed her belt and isolated a leather cord to use as a necklace for her ring. Her wedding to Peter was something she didn’t want to have to share, or explain, just yet.
The photo-watch from her father randomly activated a picture, but it was a stranger to her – or was it just another face she couldn’t remember? Rachel wished for a quiet moment when she could peruse the collection and ask her mother of their connection, but that time was not now.
She took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to savor each erg of energy that brought her to this moment. It had been a whirlwind ten days but the price was worth it - the pain and the pleasure. Finally, Rachel thought, an Age of Answers.
She would never be able to thank her friends for inviting her to John Reider’s Christmas party. Truly never – because they’d been killed by a bomb at the OneWorld Conference planted by Iscar. Still, that party resulted in her chance meeting of Peter Kerroon and now Rachel finally had the answers she had searched lifetimes to find.
It sounded as impossible to her as it would to anyone; her alien parents as the reason for her immortality and Peter himself as an immortal Disciple of Jesus the Christ. Nevertheless, it put into perspective what shaped her into who she was today, the Spokesmon. Rachel wasn’t sure what her destiny held but clues revealed themselves each step of the way. For the first time in centuries, Rachel looked forward to tomorrow.
Although Rachel had been on her own through more lifetimes than she cared to count, the brief time she spent with Peter filled the
past centuries of emptiness. Being together finally erased the emotional damage of being kidnapped as a child and living eternally without the understanding of her heritage.
There were many loose ends to consider now that she’d met Iscar. However, it was almost as important to Rachel as it was to him for her to see Delphi - this magical city he’d spent centuries preparing for her future.
Please be careful, my love. She thought of Peter. Although I don’t fear for my own safety, I fear for yours where Iscar is concerned.
“Spokesmon?” The sound of Iscar’s voice over an inner-com system startled her into reality. “Would you like to be on the bridge during our descent into Delphi?”
She sighed and rose from the grassy bed. Now it begins, she thought to herself.
Iscar initiated the audio-only function. “Spokesmon?” There was no response. “Would you like to be on the bridge during our descent into Delphi?” He continued, “If you wish you may receive a video image by verbal request to the audio unit.”
The crew held its collective breath just to hear the Spokesmon’s voice.
“Thank you. I will join you on the bridge.” The reply came as a melody, clear and decisive.
Iscar nodded to Gideon. “Commander Gideon will escort you. He’s on his way.” He terminated the connection as Gideon disappeared in the static blue of regeneration.
She was going to test his patience to the limit, he could tell. Iscar calmed himself by focusing on the bridge-screen. Any minute now, Delphi would come into view. It always took his breath away; he was certain she would feel that, too.
The crew’s anticipation grew exponentially, thinking that each second the Spokesmon would regenerate before them; he also felt their surprise when the door to the bridge swept open with a smooth swish. In unison, the crew drew to attention, their hands clasped over their heart in Delphi’s greeting.
“I hope I’m not too late.” Her voice was calm, her smile engaging. “Walking gave me an opportunity to see a little more of the ship. Thank you, Commander.”
She lowered her eyes, momentarily modest, but when she looked up she smiled graciously to each of them. With a few words and gestures, she had managed to capture the dedication of his entire crew. Even the Seven, his elite cadre, was smitten in her presence.
They could never have guessed her reluctance to accept Delphi as her own. She certainly didn’t look the part of the Spokesmon. Her wardrobe choice was a schmate, the simple daily attire of the Delphi citizen.
“Welcome to the bridge, Spokesmon.” Iscar stood but he didn’t leave his station.
Rachel nodded, and then she turned to the crew.
“Shalom, Ariesh.” The Spokesmon greeted her with hands clasped over her heart, and then turned to the next crewmember.
“Shalom, Mario.”
She greeted everyone by name even though Iscar had not sensed any telepathic communication. From the surprised look on the crew’s faces, they hadn’t either. Eagerly, each crewmember waited their turn for her greeting.
Iscar offered his seat at the control station but the Spokesmon waved it off and approached the viewing screen. The immense picture portrayed against the bulkhead accented her diminutive size.
The ship lowered slowly through a light mist that crowned the mountain until the view suddenly cleared above the crater that housed Septor-I. On wide screen, the mountaintop appeared as innocuous as any other in the Himalayas did; the crater’s bottom however, was an illusion.
Iscar sensed when the antigrav beam from the crater had connected, and Septor-I slipped into the directional-tunnel. The docking was efficient, mostly automatic, and Septor-I floated to the landing pad. The visual shielding technology that protected Septor-I also protected the mountain of technology that Delphi had become. The mountain may protect the entrances itself, but Iscar felt it prudent to limit the risks.
“Thank you for a smooth journey,” she turned to the crew. “May all our paths through life be as such.”
“Thank you, Spokesmon.” The crew’s sentiments echoed among them. “Welcome home.”
She waited for Iscar to join her at the bulkhead. He programmed the cyto to regenerate them into the city but she stepped aside with a distrustful look. Without hesitation, Iscar removed the wrist control device from his arm and handed it to her – accepting Gideon’s cyto automatically in the next move.
“This is for you, Spokesmon. It’s set for us to transport together. We’ll regenerate to Malkuth, a central speaking point for those in the city.”
She nodded to him and strapped the device around her wrist.
The Spokesmon might hide it from the crew, but he knew she was still angry.
* * *
Iscar sensed the Oracle’s hum as soon as they regenerated in the amphitheater of Delphi. He was never as acutely aware of the emptiness when separated, as he was aware of the comfort when within range of the Oracle’s vibration. He allowed himself a deep breath before he separated from its rapture.
Iscar looked with pride over the scene the Spokesmon saw for the first time. Delphi had developed beautifully through the centuries, scratching more residences from the hollow crevices with every new generation. Malkuth was three levels high; the cavern was seven times that height.
The balcony where they stood together was a parapet cropping aside a mammoth waterfall of crystalline minerals frozen thickly in layers of time.
All of Delphi lay before them, each level connected by a series of moving walkways referred to as the trans-vela. The colored lights that dotted the cavern represented the population by crafts and services. The design of flags and pennants were draped from random sections of the city and announced their heritage from countries around the world. Other banners announced their Trades as they now worked in Delphi. The old and the new blended smoothly.
The volume in the cavern was louder than he had ever heard the citizens of Delphi express themselves, and the excitement of their arrival was amplified with each telepathic connection. Iscar was surprised they didn’t literally raise the roof; he was sure it was possible with this much energy. He stood proudly beside the Spokesmon; this was just as the Oracle had defined it.
Rachel recognized the tingling sensation of the particle regeneration. In the span of a blink – her vision shifted from the ship’s bridge to something much darker, and much larger. The deafening cheers began immediately and Rachel almost fell back from the force of emotions thrown at her.
The stone balcony outcropping where she stood with Iscar was dwarfed by the frozen waterfall beside them. The cliffs in the cavern rose higher than a 50-story building, carved with designs from centuries of attention and dotted by spots of colored lights marking entrances or paths she could not distinguish.
There were stars overhead but she knew it wasn’t the night sky. Lights were everywhere and the effect made her dizzy; above her, below her - looking up was like looking down. She tried to concentrate on the openness of the cavern but the walls quickly closed in around her. Her heart raced and the sweat on her palms matched the sweat on her brow. Not now! She pleaded with her own body. Rachel was trapped by her claustrophobia, unable to focus on anything but the darkness. And then, everything went silent.
Rachel pushed herself upright and her hand went to her cheek, flushed with embarrassment. “Where am I?” They must have transported into new quarters.
“Are you alright?” Iscar tried to help her but she pushed his hand aside. “This is your residence in Delphi,” Iscar said. “How do you feel? Should I call a healer?”
“No, of course not.” The claustrophobia had subsided and Rachel felt stronger with every breath. Actually, that surprised her. She did feel better with every breath! A slight vibration rang through the air; it was calming. “Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Nothing around her felt as if she was in a cave yet she knew she was underground. The temperature was moderate and the air smelled fresh. The floors, as well as the dropped ceiling were identical to the energy panels of th
e Aurora’s construction. It made the lighting in the rooms perfectly balanced.
Iscar studied her every expression, gauging every movement - and that made her nervous. “I’ll have them postpone the ceremonies,” he said, “until you feel better.”
She wished she could protest. Of course there were ceremonies. “I feel fine, but if it’s no trouble to postpone things just a bit I’d appreciate it.” Yes to everything, she resolved. She might as well see what Delphi was all about.
The door opened without a knock and Iscar did a double take when the old woman strolled in. Her appearance clearly surprised him.
“Shalom, Mother Star.” Iscar stepped back with a slight bow. “I should have guessed we’d see you today.”
“It’s been a long time in arriving, hasn’t it?” She glided past him with confidence. There was something familiar about her, Rachel thought. Her hair was white as moonlight and flowed loose and long down her back, a stark accent to her charcoal eyes. Her withered hands firmly held the tray she carried and Rachel smelled coffee. “I came to be of assistance to the Spokesmon.” She set the tray on a small table and began to prepare a cup for herself.
Rachel liked her immediately. Her grandmotherly attitude was something Rachel had missed in her life, and the twinkle in her eye indicated she had more to share.
“I’m fine, really. The welcome was just a bit overwhelming,” Rachel smiled.
“The Master Healer will need to hear that for himself. He’ll be here momentarily. He ordered some tea for the Spokesmon but I think I guessed correctly when I brewed coffee, instead.” She sat back on the divan and sipped from the cup she had prepared for herself.
