Solomon's Arrow

by J. Dalton Jennings

  Floyd slapped him on the back as they descended a short flight of steps into the large, ornate suite, which was filled with happily chattering people dressed to the nines. Waving off a server carrying a silver tray filled with flutes of champagne, both men headed for the bar and placed their orders—a whiskey sour for Bram and a scotch on the rocks for Floyd. Performing on a stage to their right, an eight-piece jazz band played an upbeat tune that sounded vaguely familiar.

  Floyd handed Bram his drink and motioned toward the band. “I like this song, but I’ve heard it at least a hundred times.” He received a questioning look from Bram. “Being head of security, I’m always invited to Dr. Chavez’s parties. He’s in town at least once a month, which means I get to listen to this ancient music quite often.”

  “Ancient music? Huh … it’s acoustic, but it doesn’t sound classical.”

  “No, not classical,” Floyd replied. “It’s called Big Band music, recorded prior to the rock era. Dr. Chavez once told me the name of this song. If memory serves me correctly, I believe it’s called … oh, yes, “Sing, Sing, Sing,” by a chap named Benny Goodman.”

  “Are you sure? I haven’t heard any singing.”

  Floyd chuckled. “I thought the same thing. It doesn’t have any lyrics that I know of … but you could ask him yourself. He’s talking with a group of people near the balcony.”Just the man Bram wanted to see. He looked in the direction of the balcony but the crowd blocked his view. As he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Chavez, he caught sight of some famous faces in the crowd: an award-winning American actor; a respected politician; a popular musician whom Bram recognized, but whose songs weren’t to his taste; and Darren Brantley, the popular HV personality.

  “Don’t tell me he’s been invited along for the ride?” Bram grumbled, pointing at Brantley.

  Floyd shook his head. “No … he finished doing some interviews and was invited. Why?”

  “It’s nothing … he just gets on my nerves.” Bram looked back toward the balcony. “Are you sure Dr. Chavez is over there? I don’t see him.”

  “I’m quite certain,” Floyd replied. “I spotted him the first moment we entered the suite. As for whether he’s still by the balcony, I can see the top of his head.”

  Smiling, Bram eyed the tall, bristly haired security chief. “So, how’s the weather up there, Stretch?”

  Floyd cocked an eyebrow and sneered, “How original…. You’ve probably been waiting to use that tired, old joke since we arrived.”

  “Nope, ever since Canada.”

  Laughing, the two men clinked glasses and downed their drinks.

  Setting his tumbler down on the bar, Floyd asked, “Would you like to meet him?”

  Bram’s response was almost too quick. “Solomon Chavez?”

  “Who else?” Floyd gave Bram a quizzical grin. “Hey, are you sure you’re psychic?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Bram looked at his own empty glass sitting on the bar. “Alcohol tends to suppress my powers … thankfully I’m not drunk, yet.”

  A chunky piece of ice rose from the glass. While Floyd stared in slack-jawed amazement, the ice floated through the air, tumbling end-over-end, and entered Bram’s open mouth.

  “Still wondering?” he asked, sucking on the piece of ice.

  “I don’t understand,” Floyd said, shifting uncomfortably. “If you’re able to use your powers to manipulate objects, why didn’t you stop Jamison as he was getting away?”

  Bram studied the big man, seeing the well-concealed fear lurking behind his eyes. “If I could have done that, I would’ve, but I’m not that powerful. Small objects, such as ice or the latch I manipulated in the cabin, aren’t really a challenge. It’s the larger objects I struggle with. Conrad Snow tried to convince me there was no difference between the large and the small stuff on the psychic level—and yet, I have a difficult time wrapping my brain around that concept.”

  Hearing this, Floyd visibly relaxed. “Even so … it’s a helluva good parlor trick, my friend.” He glanced toward the balcony. “Come on, it’s time for you to meet the boss.”

  It took longer than expected to reach the balcony. They stopped to sample an outstanding tray of hors d’oeuvres, were intercepted by a server who offered champagne, which they accepted, and two people asking about Bram’s memoir.

  With the incredible flavor of white truffles lingering on his tongue, Bram followed Floyd onto the balcony. Chavez was speaking to a stern-looking woman with graying hair, whom Bram thought he recognized. It took a moment for Bram to realize who it was: Admiral Katherine “Battleaxe” Axelrod’s salt-and-pepper hair was styled in an up-do; she had on makeup and was wearing a silver evening gown instead of her usual black and gray uniform. Across from Chavez stood a handsome black man, whom Bram instantly recognized as Captain Richard Allison, whose tension-filled rescue at sea captured the world’s attention. To the captain’s left stood Dr. Mona Levin, probably the most celebrated scientist since Stephen Hawking. There were two other people, whom Bram had never seen before, along with another person he (at first) failed to recognize—a woman standing to Solomon Chavez’s left.

  As he and Floyd approached the group, a young couple, who stood nearby, turned their heads and studied him closely. The man touched his temple and seemed to be whispering something. By their mannerisms, Bram knew the two were undercover security officers. They must have been communicating with the woman beside Solomon Chavez, for as soon as the man started to whisper, she turned to look over her shoulder. She was no longer unknown to Bram. The raven-haired beauty was none other than Floyd’s standoffish second-in-command, Gloria Muldoon. At the sight of him, she arched her eyebrow and flashed a hint of a smile. If Bram hadn’t known better, he would’ve sworn she was happy to see him. A matching smile formed on his lips. She was certainly stunning, what with her coal black hair flowing down her smooth, bare back, the rest of which was barely covered by a red, body-hugging, floor-length cocktail dress, its v-shaped opening in back leaving little to the imagination. Turning back around, she gave her head a barely perceptible shake, prompting the undercover guards to relax.

  It sounded to Bram like the group was involved in a conversation about the environment. One of the people he’d failed to recognize was talking, a stick-thin, middle-aged man with sky-blue, shoulder-length hair, who wore a tuxedo to match his colorful locks. Strangely enough, the outfit did not look ridiculous on him.

  “Your discovery will revolutionize the energy industry, Dr. Levin.” His smile was pleasant, but his voice sneered. “Tapping the zero-point energy field is a commendable achievement and, in many ways, quite remarkable. It, along with the last twenty-odd years of using thorium instead of uranium in our nuclear power plants, will help combat carbon emissions. When the world switched over to thorium, it made a marked difference in the safety and cleanliness of the nuclear industry … unfortunately, the tipping point came near forty years ago. We will not be able to clean up the atmosphere in time to prevent the ruination of this planet.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, Abraham,” she replied, trying to hide the look of exasperation on her face. “That being said, if the zero-point generators work as expected, the catastrophic effects of climate change may be delayed for another few decades … perhaps even minimized.”

  Bram stood beside Floyd, intrigued by the conversation. He suddenly felt someone’s attention lock onto him. The person was disappointed, even angry to see him at the party. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Solomon Chavez staring straight at him.

  The woman standing beside the man with the blue hair chimed in. She looked barely thirty-five years old, yet her hair was snow-white; her dress, a shimmering silver.

  “I envy you, Dr. Levin,” she said, her voice taking on a girlish lilt. “Your invention’s going to make you as rich as Dr. Chavez.”

  A wistful expression crossed Mona’s face. “I suppose it would have, if I’d chosen to patent the design.” A collective gasp was heard throughout the gro
up. Mona shrugged her shoulders. “It’s far more important for the world to convert to this form of energy than for me to become rich. Besides, my refusing to patent the design eliminates financial red tape. More companies will produce the generators; they get distributed faster, and the price per generator is much lower.”

  Like the rest, Bram was stunned by her altruism. However, that didn’t prevent him from noticing their host’s coal-black eyes shift from him to her. The intensity of Solomon Chavez’s gaze didn’t seem to affect Dr. Levin. Her attention was on Floyd Sullivant.

  “I’m so happy to see you, Floyd. I was afraid you’d be stuck all night with last-minute details and skip Solomon’s final bash.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Doc.”

  Mona’s smile vanished when she saw Bram. Her eyes cut immediately to Solomon Chavez. When he spoke, his tone was flinty. “Mr. Waters … I was under the impression that you wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow morning.”

  The man’s icy reserve felt like a brick wall. “Luckily, I was able to wrap everything up and catch an earlier flight. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Chavez.” Bram held out his hand. Solomon Chavez stared down at the extended hand, frowning.

  “Don’t worry, Doc,” Bram said, his emotions bridling. “I don’t read people’s minds, except when asked. To do such a thing without permission is tantamount to mental rape.”

  Undeterred, Bram left his hand out, waiting for Chavez to do the companionable thing. The moment stretched, along with his discomfort. He sensed that others in the group were feeling the same. Chavez glanced up into Bram’s eyes then down again before reaching out to give his hand a firm, quick shake.

  Bram continued on as though he’d not been slighted. “Thanks to Floyd here, I’m able to personally thank you for making me a member of the Arrow’s crew. I hope my contribution will add to the mission’s success.” He noted that Solomon Chavez was studying his face, looking for something in Bram’s demeanor that only he could detect. Whatever he was hoping (or more likely fearing) to discover there was missing, for he began to relax … somewhat.

  Bram sensed that Chavez had locked his emotions up tight as a drum. Though he never read anyone’s mind without permission, he always sensed the emotional state of whoever he touched. This time, he received little information. The man had an incredibly disciplined mind.

  Forcing a tight smile, Solomon Chavez said, “You’re not an official member of the crew, Mr. Waters. Then again, neither am I. However, you will be decanted from your cryogenic tank when we arrive at the planet. You’ll be a member of the first landing party. As I’m sure you’ve already been briefed, we need your particular skill-set to determine if there are any intelligent creatures living on the planet, and whether or not they pose a threat.”

  Bram nodded. “Either way, I’m glad to be of service.”

  He turned to Richard Allison in hopes of changing the conversation, but was caught off-guard when Gloria Muldoon hooked her arm around his and cooed, “I’m terribly thirsty, Bram. Would you be a gentleman and escort me to the bar? Along the way, I want to ask a few questions about your former profession. I find it fascinating.”

  Bram looked down at the dark-haired beauty and smiled. “I’d be honored.”

  “I’m warning you, Muldoon,” Floyd said, wagging his finger. “Don’t try to steal my date.” He turned a knowing grin toward Bram, causing both men to laugh.

  As the two wove their way through the crowd, Gloria kept glancing up at Bram, a look of concern written on her face. Finally, as they approached the bar, she asked, “Before I start flirting with you, is there something I should know, to keep from embarrassing myself?”

  Bram gave her an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gloria.”

  “I think you do, Bram,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Are you and Floyd … together?”

  “First of all, I never kiss and tell,” he said, giving her a sly grin. “Secondly, he helped get me into the party, that’s all.” Bram looked back toward the balcony and started to chuckle. “However …”

  Grabbing hold of the front of his tuxedo, Gloria pulled herself close. Her perfume smelled of jasmine. Only a few inches separated the two. Bram swallowed nervously as he looked down into twin pools of ebony-suffused eyes. He was no longer laughing.

  “I’m not shy when I want something … or someone, Bram,” she confessed, a quiet huskiness entering her voice. “But heed my words: I won’t take kindly to wasting my last night on Earth trying to hook up with someone I can’t have … so no more joking around, please.”

  The closeness of Gloria’s body, coupled with the sweet, musky scent that accompanied that closeness, was making Bram’s head swim. Looking down into her gorgeous, oval face, Bram felt an intense longing, of a kind he hadn’t felt in years.

  “I’m straight as an arrow … so to speak,” he breathed, allowing his left hand to settle lightly against the curve of her waist. Her body felt strong yet soft at the same time. Bram’s mind picked up on her longing, giving him the confidence to proceed … albeit slowly, not wanting to ruin what could end up being an incredible night.

  Reaching up to smooth the lapel of his jacket, Gloria stared into Bram’s eyes, her expression sultry. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” She paused, lips pouting. “Or do you?” Without waiting for Bram to answer, she again hooked her arm thorough his and guided him the last few feet to the bar.

  After placing their orders, Bram took Gloria’s hand in his. “You said this is your last night on Earth. Have you accepted a position onboard the Arrow?”

  Gloria nodded. “The week after Floyd and I returned from Canada, I was offered the position of deputy security chief. Can you guess who my boss will be … aside from ‘The Battleaxe?’”

  It took Bram less than a second to realize who she was talking about. “Floyd?”

  She nodded. “Floyd’s an orphan. He’s also the best man for the job. As for me, I was raised by my older half-brother after our mother died in a workplace accident. I never knew my father, but I did know my brother’s father. He was a sorry son of a bitch who came around every few months to mooch a few Euro-credits.” Reaching back, Gloria picked up her drink and took a sip, carefully studying Bram’s face. “When I was eleven, the drunken bastard tried to molest me. My brother arrived home from work early, thank God, and caught him holding me face down on the couch.” Gloria paused, the memory still painful. “My brother, who’d been a rugby player in school, flew into a red rage and tackled him. I fled to the apartment next door, hearing furniture crash and loud angry shouts reverberating through the walls. As I pounded frantically on our neighbor’s door, the shouting ceased. Seconds later, the bastard burst out of our apartment and ran down the hall, calling me a rotten fucking tease as he passed by. I was so frightened that I nearly missed the blood staining his shirt. I rushed back to our apartment, only to find that he’d stabbed my brother in the neck. Aaron bled out before the ambulance could arrive.

  “My testimony sent the murderous shit away for life. Soon after that, I was passed around from one foster home to another. Some families treated me like dirt, but it wasn’t always bad; I stayed with a Swiss family for over three years. That’s where I learned to ski.” Taking a long, cleansing breath, Gloria reached over and, with a wan smile, slid her index finger along Bram’s forearm. In the background, the band was playing a newer tune. “Come on, Bram, let’s get out of here,” Gloria whispered. “Help me put the past aside … for one night, at least?”

  Bram’s hesitation lasted barely a second. Ever since their time in Canada, he’d seen Gloria as an icy, standoffish force of nature. But things had changed: underneath her toughness, he saw a vulnerable, damaged young woman. To most men, that vulnerability would’ve been a green-light signaling them to make an advance. To Bram, however, such advances seemed predatory by nature. He’d always tried to ease others’ pain, not take advantage of it for his own pleasure. In Gloria’s case, he
felt conflicted. Despite having a strong desire to comfort her, he also knew that she wanted him in her bed. The thought of making love to this gorgeous, sexy woman caused an intense, fiery passion to course through his veins. Bram wanted her—badly. After all, this wasn’t just her last night on Earth, it was his too.

  Taking Gloria by the hand, he led her from the party, wanting more than anything to help her forget the past for one night … and perhaps, in her arms, he’d be able to do the same.

  7

  “Good morning, Bram. It’s time to wake up. Good morning, Bram. It’s time to wake up. Good morning, Bram. It’s time to—”

  “Okay, okay … I’m up, Eric.”

  Bram was disappointed. Being awakened by his PID was unexpected. He’d hoped for soft kisses … better yet, eager lips, urging him onward and upward for another round of lovemaking.

  “Gloria?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. Receiving no answer, he rolled over and stared at Gloria’s side of the bed. It was empty. A handwritten note lay on her pillow.

  The orange, Kenyan light streamed through the bedroom window lighting her words: “Dear Bram, Thank you for a wonderful night. I’m sorry you woke up alone, but the day ahead of me is hectic and I needed to start work early. There are towels in the bathroom cupboard, if you want to take a shower. All I have is lavender-scented shampoo. Sorry about that. There’s some orange juice left in the fridge and a fresh pot of coffee waiting on the kitchen counter. You can find cups in the left-hand cabinet by the sink. If you’re hungry, there’s a box of leftover takeout in the fridge. I hope you like Thai. I apologize for not having anything more appetizing for breakfast, but I haven’t been stocking my pantry lately. I’m sure you understand.

  “I probably won’t see you before the cryo-process, but I’ll be looking forward to seeing you when we reach Epsilon Eridani. Once again, I really enjoyed myself last night. Judging by the peaceful look on your face when I left, I’m pretty sure you did too. Until we meet again, toodle-oo and sweet dreams. I forgot: There’s no dreaming in cryo-sleep. Before you know it, you’ll be waking up, and it’ll be like we’ve been apart for less than a day. Be brave, Gloria.”