by JB Penrose
“But Rachel, I,” he let go his breath, “I love you.”
Those words, that phrase. It was a dream come true, and it broke her heart. “I love you, too, but I can’t go, Peter. Biatra-IV isn’t my home.”
Eternity passed as his expression waned from relief to resolve. “Maybe it’s not,” he started slowly, “but you have to come with me to see Mag’Dalyn. You have to do that at least. She has truly missed you!”
Her mother? Rachel could hardly comprehend the thought. “Where is she?”
“The Immortal Valley, the site of the Orygin’s crash. So, you will go? We don’t have much time.”
“Before you launch...”
“Just come with me. Let’s not make any other plans. Just come with me.”
As soon as her head nodded, subconscious movement that it was, he hugged her, excited.
She pushed him back; it felt like two magnets separating.
“I can’t promise anything but that.”
“I understand.” Peter put his arm around her shoulders. “But I promise you, no matter what happens, I love you.”
Her head rested on his shoulder. His strong arms wrapped her securely and she rested in his embrace. “Oh, Peter! I can’t believe this is happening. I never thought I’d find the answers. Or my parents!”
“We’ll just take things as they come.” He hugged her tightly. “You get ready.”
“How soon will we leave?”
“Immediately. No time to spare,” Peter urged. He blew her a kiss and pushed her gently to the doorway.
She skipped through the room in her fuzzy blue slippers, then turned to see if he still watched her, and he did.
Peter’s heart was pounding. After a thousand years of searching he’d found Roko! His thoughts pushed him into action and he activated the vid-phone on her desk.
“Donnally? I need a favor.”
“Peter? Did you hear from John?”
“Yes. I know about the reschedule.”
“It’s probably going to change again. There’s another problem. Morrow has called a meeting with President Wilson. He says he has evidence that John set up Nathan’s death.”
“The President can’t believe that!”
“Who knows what he believes? But I don’t think John’s going to want to defend himself again.”
“Not again. Not against Morrow.” Peter paused. “I need something, Donnally, and it’s important so don’t ask questions. I need the jet, and a pilot.”
“Sure Peter, but what about the launch?”
“Don’t worry. Tell Andrew to pick me up with Mags and James. They’ll have to trust me. This won’t wait.” He owed it to Mag’Dalyn to tell her first.
“All right. When do you want it scheduled?”
“One hour,” Peter told him. “There’s no time to lose.”
* * *
Tuesday
December 27, 2044
The long night had changed into early morning, and while her whole life had turned around, so had the world. Rachel’s heart ached over the sudden death of her two best friends. She would miss Li’Ana’s infectious laughter and meddling, but the world would miss a great couple with the energy and vision to carry it to new achievements. All because of a terrorist’s bomb.
She choked back tears. If the bomb had killed its intended victims, Peter’s heart would now be breaking. Rachel wondered if the launch would still be counting down. Would Peter have discovered her secret? Would she be going now to see her parents after 1500 years?
Old fears found new voices. What if they didn’t recognize her? And her worst fear of all -- what if Peter was wrong? It was like dreaming inside a dream. Everything sounded right to her, but she still didn’t remember anything her dreams might have alluded to. Rachel had to trust him.
Behind the bathroom door she clutched the silver cross that hung around her neck and let the darkness help her relax. It was magical to have something of her mother’s, finally. She was so excited her own heartbeat almost knocked her off balance. Just that she could stand there, alone, in the dark, made her feel strangely secure. She smiled at her new confidence and stretched her arms out in defiance of old fears.
The darkness moved away!
Trails. She remembered the slang term and waved her arm to see it again. The faint glow of her hand brushed across her face in the darkness and Rachel blinked. Her skin was glowing! Quickly, she activated the light sensor.
The reflection in the mirror proved her eyes and nose were swollen red; they always did that when she cried, but she was bolstered by the courage she felt in the maelstrom of changes around her. Even cold water on her face could not wake her from this dream. This was her dream-come-true, and just like a dream, there was no questioning the meaning; they follow their own course.
Someone knocked on the front door, followed by several rude punches on the doorbell. Her hands fumbled for the bathroom doorknob and when Rachel stepped out, alarmed, Peter was already there, holding his valise.
“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” she told him.
“Are you ready to go?”
She looked down at her furry blue houseshoes and shook her head. “I haven’t packed anything. And I’m not really dressed.”
The doorbell rang, and then again followed by several sharp raps.
“We’ll have to take care of everything whn we get there. Let’s get out while we can,” he urged. “Donnally has a jet waiting.”
“A PROBE-Tech plane?”
“You didn’t think we’d fly commercial?” He grabbed her hand and turned down the hall. “Follow me. I thought something like this might happen.”
They slipped quietly out the kitchen door and ducked through the property’s hedgerow. Peter’s car was waiting in the neighbor’s drive. Behind them, Rachel heard voices moving around to the side door. “They’d better not leave my greenhouse open,” she thought remotely.
The morning sun glistened on the fresh snow with an air of innocence and a sense of protection. The DayStar hung overhead, luring them on. Peter’s car had instant access through all the PROBE-Tech checkpoints and the jet was ready when they arrived at the airstrip. He tossed an attendant the keys to his car and reached for the small valise from the back seat.
“It’s time.” Peter touched her elbow gently.
“I’m ready.” In saying the words, each step to the plane came easier.
The interior looked more like an office suite than an airplane. Three beautifully crafted mahogany desks with communication terminals lined one side; a leather-padded sofa was arranged on the opposite bulkhead. Going deeper she passed a conference area and noted the electronic circuitry inlaid under the finish of the circular table and half-dozen vid-screens hidden within the table itself. A wet bar divided the conference area and galley, and Rachel recognized replicator units like those she’d seen in the Aurora.
“You’re right,” she told him. “This isn’t like flying commercial.”
He guided her to a casual lounge toward the back with bunk-style cots opposite a sofa and chairs that were grouped together for intimate discussions.
“The pilot said we’re cleared for take-off. We’d better buckle up.”
They settled in and the plane lifted from the snowy landscape.
“Are you all right?”
“I must be in shock; when I stop to think about Nathan and Li’Ana, about you, and my parents, well,” she smiled and squeezed his hand. “I guess I’m numb, but I’m all right.”
“Would you like anything?” She shook her head and felt his reassuring pat on her hands.
A blanket covered her in the chair when she woke from her nap. The shades had been drawn in the semi-dark cabin and soft jazz played on hidden speakers. Peter was sketching her, asleep; she recognized the new pen set he’d received at Christmas.
“Have I been asleep very long?”
“You deserved the rest.” He leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
“What time is it? Where are we?”
&
nbsp; “Middle of the night; over an ocean.”
“It feels like heaven.” Her stomach growled and Peter laughed. “Except I’m hungry.”
“My love may order to her hearts desire. After all,” he promised, “this is heaven.”
“My hearts desire,” she admitted, “would be a western omelet, wheat toast, chocolate milk and honey melon slices, - but I’ll take whatever you can come up with.” She added, “and coffee.”
“Your wish is my command.” He stretched when he stood. “You can freshen up while I get everything ready, but you’re already beautiful.”
Rachel left him in the galley making a big show of putting on an apron. A few minutes later she emerged from the lavatory refreshed. It was still dark in the cabin, but Peter adjusted the lighting in the galley for a cozy breakfast.
“Here’s for you, my dear.” He presented a tray with her every request, a steaming hot omelet garnished with melon slices around the edge and a tall glass of chocolate milk. “I hope it’s not too much chocolate.”
“It could never be too much chocolate.” She drank half the glass and laughed. “I guess I was thirsty. The service here is great, I might add.”
“I don’t do this for just everyone, you know.”
“I’ll have to tell John; it’s much better than hospital food.”
“The smell will definitely fool you, because it all really tastes the same. But it hits the spot for a hungry person.”
“Exactly!”
After breakfast they settled back in the lounge with their coffee. The valise Peter carried was in the chair across the aisle. She pulled at the thin silver cloth exposed at the top of his packing.
“What’s this?” It was longer than she expected, and Peter laughed as she comically pulled further, and then spread the corners to guess what it was. The humor disappeared when she realized it was a spacesuit. His uniform - with the Aurora’s crest on the sleeve. “Oh, I see.”
Peter took the eco-suit from her hands and tossed it into the chair behind them. He took her firmly by the shoulders. “It’s not what you think.”
“I don’t think anything.” She put on a brave smile. “We said no plans.”
“Rachel -”
“Peter, it’s all right. You have your home.”
“You don’t understand.” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s alright. We said no plans.”
“Rachel, I love you. I want to marry you.”
“What?”
“I want to marry you! You heard me. Will you marry me?”
She felt the breath knocked out of her. “But you know I can’t go.”
“Stay. Go. It doesn’t matter.”
She saw the seriousness in his eyes. “Peter?”
“I will never leave you.” Peter’s hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and drew her close. He hushed her protests with a finger to her lips. “No plans, we promised. At least not until after you’ve seen Mags.”
She nodded. Rachel took the seat the uniform landed in, and returned to it him. Peter sat beside her and opened up the valise to repack his suit.
“What was it like to know Jesus?” Rachel asked quietly.
He thought for a moment before he spoke. “I don’t know how to explain it,” Peter began slowly. “He was a person, just like you or me.” Peter took a deep breath and thought for a second. He shook his head. “All right, not like you or me. Jesus was wondrous! From the moment he was born he shaped the way an entire world thought. Even today we are still living with the impact of His life.”
“He is often in my dreams,” she told him.
“At least you had dreams,” Peter told her. “None of us have dreamt since Jesus died, not until the DayStar appeared.”
“Dreams that you don’t understand turn into nightmares over centuries. Mine are colorless, with a blinding white light that wraps around me. Unseen hands reach out to grope me, as if I am walking through an unruly crowd.”
“I can sympathize with that. It was always like that in the presence of Jesus,” Peter recalled. “My dreams are the reoccurring events of Jesus’ betrayal by Iscar, and myself in the denial. He was truly magnificent, and though he insisted we hide our existence, he would draw attention to himself by healing someone, or feeding a crowd on a single fish. You know the stories.” Peter shook his head. “Dreams are funny things. And they seem so real when you’re dreaming.”
“There’s a woman I’ve seen in my dreams all my life; a face in the crowd, somewhat angelic. I even thought I saw her at John’s party, but I don’t know if she’s real. I think it’s her voice I hear in the dream, she keeps repeating a poem.
“One who is a child of Light
Spokesmon of eternal Life
Truth revealed from skies above
Lost is found whose Gift is Love.”
“I’ve heard that,” Peter told her, excited. “Jesus repeated it to Mags when he told her she was pregnant.”
“Do you know what it means?” Rachel asked.
“No, but John was always fascinated with the Spokesmon term, especially after you coined it for Nathan Young. You can ask your mother when you see her.”
“I still don’t know what it all means, or where my Path should lead.” Rachel shrugged. “I sense that I have some purpose, and sometimes, I sense that I have some powers. But, it all feels like a science fiction novel.”
“Even science fiction can have a happy ending,” Peter reminded her. “Mags has never given up hope. After a few years, she stopped traveling and built a school in the desert and tried to fill it with as many children as she could take in.”
“The Dalyn School?”
“Yes, that one was started by Teddy and Simon,” Peter told her. “There is an inner circle of those who know about us, people who have helped us over the years; those we’ve helped.”
“You’re lucky to have had each other,” Rachel told him. “It wasn’t easy growing up alone.”
She felt Peter brush her cheek with a gentle kiss. His fingertips traced Rachel's hairline, lingering at the ridges around her ears. When she turned, her lips met his.
There was no hesitation in her decision, although the courage of it came from unknown depths. With every breath together they shared more of their souls. He moved with certainty and she responded in harmony. She reminded herself, This is not a story!
“I love you,” he whispered.
His fingers wrapped around hers and Rachel guided his hand to her heart between her breasts. She knew his own heart beat as wild. She could hear it; feel it. Nothing had overtaken her like the love and desire she felt for Peter.
“Rachel?”
“No talking.”
He hesitated, but she willed their togetherness. The warmth of his touch encouraged her boldness and she pressed against him.
“I love you,” she said.
She was a cloud and he was the wind - carrying her to far away lands. Hadn’t she written this scene a million times? Felt this touch? Hadn’t she always dreamed this dream?
“Rachel?” He lifted her chin and looked earnestly into her eyes. “We have time to wait. There’s so much that has happened, and I,” he explained, “don’t want it to happen here. Not like this. Not for us.”
Gradually, she relaxed. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“We will always be together,” he promised.
Another kiss would prove it. Anything, to hold off the panic building inside her that all of this would disappear. As though he’d heard, Peter’s lips found hers. She knew it was true. Love had finally come.
Peter smiled. “Trust me. This will all work out.”
“I trust you.” Their kiss was like jumping off a cliff. A leap of faith. She knew it was the last time that she would ever question his love for her. In retrospect, there was never a doubt about her love for him.
* * *
Gail woke with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach; it usually meant bad news. The headline stories
confirmed her worst nightmare. A bomb at the OneWorld Conference had killed the new president and his wife!
Her gut feeling also told her Frank was at the center of this terrorism, but until she had proof it would only be her word against his. It was a dangerous standoff. Honey wound through her legs tightly, as if to keep her from going. Cats were intuitive like that, but there would be more information in her office than on cable news and Gail wanted to get there fast. She poured a tall glass of chocolate milk and listened for details while she dressed.
* * *
President Wilson shuffled through the paperwork before he looked up. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Frank.”
“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. President. I know how busy you are.” Morrow ignored everyone else in the room. “I believe the situation will become critical if we don’t act right away.”
“I don’t know what you think you can do.” Scott Cauthron tapped his foot impatiently. Behind him were court justices and legal advisors with pounds of literature in their briefcases that told him what actions could, or could not be taken. The Vice President-elect hoped they had the answers he wanted to hear.
Frank Morrow scoffed at their inadequacies. The Bureau of Global Affairs had been created just to bypass such hindrances.
