by TylerRose.
Under Chen’s intense teaching, she learned Chi Kung techniques in order to better control her psychokinesis and use it as a weapon. She learned to use teleportation in her fighting, to gain new position and take away the upper hand.
She explained how Solomon so often used the element of surprise, and how she was either not in a position to fight back or had frozen. Chen began to help her react in surprise situations. He taught her one-strike incapacitations with fists and elbows, taught her to use the elbow to jam a man in the ribs and knock his breath out with psychokinesis.
She bought a copy of Logan’s Run on video tape, and the word Sanctuary was stuck in her brain for several days. She fingered the ring on her pinkie, wondering if she should go there. What would be the benefit of going? What, exactly, could they do for her? What would be the point?
May 19, 1999, the day she’d been waiting for with great anticipation. The theatrical release of Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace. She’d been collecting the toys at Pizza Hut, her favorite being the Coruscant dome that opened to Senator Palpatine and Queen Amadala in the Naboo Senate platform. It buzzed and they floated for several seconds. Closing the dome, the gear reset itself. She carried it with her in her purse or messenger bag, whichever she was carrying at the moment. Yoda in his Jedi Council seat graced her bedside table.
She sat in an oddly quiet theater, mesmerized and engrossed in the story of a history past. Coming out of the theater, profoundly calm inside, she did not see the energy weapon blast coming at her along the front of the building. She felt it. She captured it and turned to see Solomon standing there with the weapon in hand. She threw the energy ball back at him and followed it by teleporting. She arrived before the energy blast did, let it envelop them both.
“Sanctuary!” she shouted.
He cursed and broke her grip, falling to the ground as a streak of black lightning struck her.
Chapter Twenty
The clear, rose-colored skyclouded over so fast no one had time to move or take cover, blocking the light from Sanctuary’s distant sun and bringing a decided chill to the rising winds. Crimson and gold lightning streaked among the black clouds, casting shadows about the buildings and garden paths. Thunder deafened those who could not cover their ears quickly enough. The wind grew to ferocious gusts, whipping apart the flowers lining the walk.
Jiogaard was not startled by the suddenness of the announcement. In his long experience, he’d grown accustomed to violent arrivals. He stood tall in the dark, bracing himself against the wind and waiting it out. He studied the clouds critically, waiting for the Deliverance. Lightning ripped across the sky, gathering itself for the final bolt.
“Someone comes,” Rengaard said, calmly watching alongside his peer.
“With great urgency,” Jiogaard said.
Watching the sky, they headed for the center of their community, to their arrival pad. They were but paces away when the great shaft of gold and platinum light tore down through the planet’s thick layers of atmosphere. They covered their ears to protect against the last tremendous crash of thunder. The ground shook so violently that they reached for the posts surrounding the platform to steady themselves. Vehement Deliverance was not altogether uncommon. They simply waited for it to end.
All at once, the sky was clear and the ground still. The day seemed brighter.
Jiogaard hurried up the wide steps to the surface, Rengaard beside him. A young woman in clothing they hadn’t seen before Behind her lay a uniformed man with an energy weapon in hand. Double arrivals were not uncommon.
“He is dead,” Rengaard said, checking for brain activity. “The uniform is from the Ambassador’s Administration for Space and Time Travel. An older style of Security garb. The weapon is AASTT issue as well; but he was not an employee.”
“The woman is alive and wears the Ring of Invitation,” Jiogaard said, placing a hand over her forehead to probe for her native language.
Rengaard stood to address the workers gathering at the foot of the steps. “Take the uninvited and dispose of him.”
Three men rushed up to pick up the dead man and drag him away.
“Is she well?” Rengaard asked his peer.
“She is unharmed. It is the Immaculate. She knows the Landers Language.”
Tyler’s eyes snapped open to see a pink sky so bright and blurred it hurt her eyes. She closed them with a groan, feeling utterly exhausted and so ill she was shaking. Whatever she was lying on was pleasantly warm but unbearably hard. She forced herself to sit up and was gently, insistently, pushed back.
“Rest, child. You have traveled far this day.”
Calm and soothing voice. She did as instructed.
“Where am I?” she managed to ask through the heavy haze in her head.
“Sanctuary. You did mean to come here, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Who is the man who came with you?” he asked her.
“What man?”
Jiogaard showed her a mental image of the dead man in the security uniform.
“I don’t know him. Too bad it wasn’t the other one.”
“What is your name, child?”
“Tyler.”
“Who gave you the Ring of Invitation?” he asked.
She searched her memory. “On Crecorday. He came up to me. Then I met him again somewhere. I can’t remember his name right now.”
She was gripped by a tidal wave of nausea and thrust herself over onto her knees. The kind man moved with her and held her hair back while she vomited into the flowerbed edging the back half of the circle of cement. She quickly went into dry heaves she couldn’t stop. An arm slipped under her belly, pressing firmly upwards to slow and stop the involuntary emptying of her stomach. Once they stopped, a hand took hers and pressed a cold cylinder into her palm.
“Cold water. Sip it.”
Weak and teary-eyed, she rinsed her mouth and spat first, then sipped. Her hands shook so she could hardly control them. His soft hands clasped around hers to steady her, guiding the rim to her lips again.
“It is fine,” he said, feeling the rise of her embarrassment. “It is a common side effect of a violent arrival. Do you feel better now?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “My head hurts.”
“Also a side effect. You will acclimate within a few days.”
“I don’t intend to be here that long,” she scowled.
“We will see what we will see. I am Jiogaard, your Caretaker. This is Rengaard, my peer. If your nausea has abated enough, we will move to more comfortable lodging.”
She was better, but needed his support to stand and descend the three cement steps. Looking around, she saw a large open space with a few structures forming a broad circle. Long, wide walking paths with green patches of grass and flowers stretched to the horizon. People walked this way and that on their own missions, some glancing at her and others paying no mind.
She walked under a walkway between two buildings and into a square garden thickly planted around a central walkway. Side paths led to three hedges along the perimeter. In the center, those three paths came together into a circle with a two seat table in the middle. Peach stone walls, green bushes, colorful flowers from all the planets she’d ever been on. Except Earth.
She wondered how soon it would be before Solomon would find her here. She really needed to kill the fucker.
“No one will come and steal you from us,” Jiogaard told her. “No one may come onto the planet unless specifically invited. No one can orbit and teleport to the surface.”
“Your skepticism is to be expected,” Rengaard said. “Be assured, child. No harm will come to you here. Our solar system inhibits all such intrusions.”
“How?” she demanded as they reached the hedge at the rear of the square courtyard.
“A discussion for another time,” Jiogaard said, leading the way around the side of the hedge. “You will live here.”
The doorway was open. They stepped into a large room with s
ections for sleeping, sitting, eating. There was no obvious kitchen. A door to one side led to a bathroom.
“How long have you been expecting me?” she asked, seeing furniture that was familiar but nothing she’d owned or used.
“That is another discussion for another time,” Jiogaard smiled.
“Seems there are many things to discuss at some other time,” she said suspiciously.
“You will find clothing appropriate to our climate in the wall unit,” he gestured. “I suggest you change now, before you grow overwarm, and sleep for a time. If you choose, one of us will remain so you will not be alone.”
“Are you always going to read my mind?” she complained.
“We mean no offense,” Rengaard said. “You are highly telepathic but you know you are not as trained as you should be in the control of your broadcasting. Our planet makes you less in control. In time you will acclimate to regain control over your telepathy; but your other abilities may not return until you leave here.”
“I can’t do anything here?” she demanded, and tried to bring something to her hands. Nothing.
She tried to teleport. Nothing.
“I cannot be so unprotected!”
Jiogaard put his hands on her upper arms to still her and force eye contact. “You are protected, Tyler. I promise you. That’s exactly what this place is for: To protect the persecuted in their time of greatest need.”
She clutched the strap of her messenger bag. “I want my suitcase.”
It was beside her.
“We hide nothing from you,” Jiogaard said. “You are safe here and can take all the time you need to heal your battered soul.”
“What do you know of that?” she sneered.
“I know that you refuse to grieve for all that you have lost. It is making you ill in ways you do not yet know.”
She went stone hard again, turned away from him to look into the closet Rengaard had opened. Frothy pastel gowns in different lengths, not all that unlike the costumes in Logan’s Run.
“Later we will talk about your goals. Your troubles. Would you like one of us to remain while you rest? I can feel that you are growing weary again. It’s our atmosphere.”
“I want to be alone.”
“Very well,” Jiogaard nodded. “I will bring food when you wake.”
She watched them leave through the open doorway, remained on the spot to think over what they’d said. Running a hand through her tangled hair, she felt wetness under her arm and at her scalp. The air was very warm here. She undressed and took out a confection, not caring what color it was. It looked sheer, but when she put it on, she was properly concealed. She was also considerably cooler. Strangely exhausted despite the rest she’d been getting at Chen’s Kwoon, she climbed onto the bed and collapsed into slumber.
Hard sleep, black as it had been inside the torpedo, and equally as still. No colors dancing behind her eyes. No replaying of nightmares. No images at all. When she woke, her eyes snapped open. She needed a moment to remember where she was. Stretching, rolling with it, exhaling out, she actually did feel rested for the first time in years. She sat up, noticed the bank of windows behind the bed and sitting area, and the door between them. A garden that looked remarkably like her garden on Voran.
“Are you hungry?” came Jiogaard’s voice behind her.
“I am.”
Another man laid a tray on the table and departed as she approached it.
“It is our custom to sit with a new resident through their meals, so they do not feel alone.”
He removed the large dome. “Is the food acceptable?”
A plate of croissants. Another of slices of Colby jack cheese. Dishes of orange segments in juice, plum slices in their juice. Container of soft butter and bright purple blueberry jam. And a plate of very well cooked bacon. Plus a fine porcelain teapot and two cups.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, taking her seat.
He poured the cups mostly full.
“How long did I sleep?” she asked, ripping a croissant in half to spread butter and jam on it.
“Our day is 27 Earth hours long. You slept for 23.”
“No wonder I’m hungry.”
“When during your life did you receive the Ring of Invitation?” he asked.
“A few months after I Widened. Nearly four years ago now, I guess. I was on Crecorday, about 500 years into Earth’s past. Earnol had sent me back to get me out of the way while Earth was attacked. I stupidly fell for it.”
“Do you travel through time often?”
“Only twice. Both to Crecorday and back,” she answered honestly. “I want to go back again. Fix everything.”
“What do you mean fix everything?” he asked.
“Earnol influenced so much that this timeline is completely fucked up. I feel it. All the little pings of things that were wrong that I cannot fix unless I start over again.”
“What makes you think it’s your job to do that?”
She stopped, knife in midair over the jam, and eyeballed him. “You know, don’t you?” she said.
“Know what?”
“You know that I am the Immaculate. Of course you know. The guy who gave me the ring knew of my importance and that means you know. If I ask you blunt and clear questions, do you have to give me the truth? Or will you jerk me around?”
“I will not intentionally jerk you around,” he replied.
“That’ll have to do. I’ve talked with a guy who was the head dude at a cult-like sect that practices at getting rid of specific emotions. In fact, he’s the one who grew up to become the dude who gave me the ring. He came to me in my future and I met him in his past. I still can’t remember his name. Anyhow, he told me that there was one person who actually did expel an emotion or two. Not just pretend. Not just really good at suppression. But really, actually did it several hundred years earlier. I want you to find him and bring him to me.”
“I’m not sure how wise it would be to remove emotions from your psyche.”
“I didn’t ask your opinion,” she halted that conversation. “If you know I’m the Immaculate and you know what that is, then I’m going to guess it’s your job to help me in any way I need. That’s what I need right now. Thank you for the meal. Leave it here. I’ll nibble.”
She left the table to go outside and walk in her amazingly duplicated garden. The yellow flower was still there. She stood looking at it for some minutes.
“If you could have one thing in life, what would it be?” he asked, having come over to stand behind her.
“To live in peace. I used to want adventure, to see the world, see the galaxy. Now I just want to be left the fuck alone to figure out what I need to figure out.”
“You don’t want a mate to share it with?”
“That’s rather complicated, isn’t it? I’m supposed to have a team of five men around me, at least two of which are supposed to be lovers. Perhaps as many as all five. Yet every time I try to have a relationship, it gets destroyed one way or another. Even a relationship of friends. So you tell me how it’s supposed to work that I’m to have a team of five but they all die on me?”
“It’s the wrong team,” he replied without hesitation. “If they don’t belong in the team, they are removed one way or another. There will be ones who are temporary, who are to be replaced periodically. Apogee, Conduit and Conservator will be permanent when you find them. The bottom two will change and change and change until you go into your final evolution.”
“Fine. It’s the top three who have all died. I don’t even know who the conduit is now. Dorn was made to give the power to someone. I don’t know who. I’m supposed to start all over from scratch with three to five men I don’t even know? That doesn’t seem right to me. Dorn and Jerome are right. Nails was right. I feel it in my bones. All three of them are gone.”
“You don’t think Shestna was right?”
“He was right as my husband and a temporary Apogee. He was already getting old. He was never goin
g to go with me to final evolution. We knew that. So how can they be the wrong team if they’re the right men?”
He did not answer, instead asking, “What of the K’Tran? Mankell? You know him. A familiar face while you get to know the unfamiliar.”
A partial solution that dissatisfied her. She walked away to the other side of the garden. He gave her a moment before he followed.
“How long have you been holding in your grief for your husband and your baby?”
“Leave me alone,” she shut him down.
She remained on the spot while he retreated to the opposite end to give her space. When she was good and ready, she approached him.
“Why is this garden a reproduction of the one on Voran?”
“Because we thought its familiarity would be a comfort to you,” he replied.
“It’s not. Take out the plants and put in something else.”
“Very well. The gardener will be here shortly to begin removal.”
“When will you bring me the one who expelled emotions?” she asked. “His name is Keto Dyren and I want to speak with him.”
“I would prefer we had your own situation addressed first,” he replied.
“Speaking with him will help to resolve my situation. Stop stalling and tell me when he will be here,” she insisted.
“I’ll have him here before supper. The two other rooms within this structure are for your guests. Is there anyone else you want to see?” Jiogaard asked.
“Not yet. Eventually I’ll want to see my Sifu, Chen. I am correct when I say this timeline is fucked up, aren’t I?”
“I must admit you are. The timeline you came from is inappropriately influenced by someone taking advantage of his own abilities and his high position.”
“So my going back to fix it isn’t wrong. Is it,” she declared rather than asked.
“It is not. What you must understand is that how you go about it is what may get you into trouble. You have remained on the side of right so far. But you cannot simply walk up to him and kill him. That would be a crime. He must be caught in the act of influence, or some solid proof of ordering people to be assassinated must be obtained. You can only fix things that you were supposed to do.”
