by John Ricks
“What did he do?”
Melanie looked up with tears pouring from her eyes. “He did something harder to do than anything he has ever done. He gathered all knowledge on how to build that bomb and literally burned it out of his mind. His last thoughts before passing out were of the president, Becky, Susan, and his girls.”
A reporter solemnly asked, “What were his thoughts?”
“‘Because I love you all.’”
I woke up in my own bed back at home. Becky was there by my bedside, and so were Susan and Katie. Becky and Susan each had one of my hands. As my eyes opened and focused, Susan said, “Welcome back, sweetheart.”
I tried to talk, but Becky placed a finger on my lips and said, “Not yet, dear. In a few days.” I tried to sit up, but my head hurt so much I couldn’t move.
Susan said, “You’re not getting up or doing anything for a while, so get used to it.”
I was so tired I wasn’t about to complain. There was a intravenous feed going into my arm, and a person I hadn’t seen before was watching us. She pathed to me, “Hi, Freddy. I’m your nurse. My name is Sally. Don’t try pathing back. You can receive easy enough, but sending will be hard for a while. Let your brain rest, and let me heal you.” I nodded my head a little and winced.
Sally said, “You’ve all seen him awake. Now, out. He needs rest. Out!” She saw how my hand clamped a little on Becky’s hand, and she smiled. “Not you, Becky. You can stay.” They left, and Sally came over to me and said, “Sleep, little one. And thank you for getting the president to find me.” I received an impression of a young lady in an asylum, afraid that she could hear voices and being kept drugged.
I looked at Becky and smiled, and then I turned to Sally. I tried to say, “How many like you?” But she put her hand on my head. Just before I fell asleep, she whispered, “Hundreds, Freddy. Hundreds.”
Yellows asked, “Wasn’t our mother ship cloaked as an asteroid?”
Green sadly said, “Yes.”
Yellows continued. “Did not Gray tell us that their scanners could not see through the cloaking device?”
Green, almost in shock, said, “Yes, he did.”
Blue asked, “Is this not about the time transmissions stopped from our mother ship?”
Green choked out, “It is the exact time.”
Little Yellows said to me, “It is not your fault. You could not know, little one.”
Green pulled out of the link. “I cannot continue until he stops crying. This realization is literally killing him.”
Blue said, “Yellows, please have your pen mate work with him. This was not his fault. This was bad planning on our part. I need to report. We will continue tomorrow.”
Little Yellows answered, “We will do our best, but we do not think it will help.”
Over the intercom, an alarm sounded, and a voice said, “Attention, all ships. The Earth fleet has stopped and is turning around. We have one hour before they reach us. Prepare for battle.”
To be continued …
