Star Angel: Prophecy

by David G. McDaniel

  Bianca’s house was just like it had always been. Jess recalled looking out this very window, laughing and making waffles just like this, late at night, sleeping over and watching movies.

  Acutely she felt the very real changes that were now part of her. Nothing that could be seen but incredible things all the same; things the others knew. Had born witness to. Things she herself needed time to process, though so far time had not been on her side. There were so many possible futures.

  She pushed that from her mind; went to the fridge, got the juice and poured Satori a glass.

  Remarkable how they each accepted her, same as always, despite what she’d done. The scope of her transformation was just part of the overall scope of events they were all contending with, each and every one of them, and Jess was sure that probably helped. Yeah, she’d become like a god, in a way, at least for one deadly moment on that icy field, but the whole world had been blown wide open and now there were aliens and other worlds and other humans and star travel and she was still Jess, mostly, and so, with all that, perhaps because of it, no one looked at her really that much different. Not so far, at least. Not yet. And the most shocking thing was not what happened, not that any of those impossible things happened, but that they did happen and yet, in their wake, this could be happening. Dinner at home. Friends and family around the table, laughing. Dishes to clean. Good food.

  Incredible.

  Normal won in the end. Fantastic things came and went, but normal, it seemed, was always waiting. Acceptance. And that they could all be sitting there, like that, at the table having fun after everything that went down ...

  That was perhaps the most incredible thing of all.

  She gazed at them in the dining room, at the happy group.

  It had been so hard to join them. And as she listened to them laughing she wished Egg was here. Egg should be here.

  Darvon had returned to Anitra, and surely by now they’d grieved. And while Darvon would’ve paid any price for this day—was fully ready to give his own life—Jess had the feeling this price was too high. She thought of little baby Ereena. Egg’s baby sister wouldn’t know what was going on, of course, but she was such an empathic little girl, Jess was sure she would pick it up from the others. The thought of her little face when she saw her mother and her father so sad, her big blue eyes filling with tears …

  Thoughts of that led right back to all the other terrible places Jess had been avoiding and, for the hundredth time that day, she was choking back sobs. Clumsily she turned to the sink to rinse some dishes, no longer knowing whether it was hormones from the pregnancy or the very real loss, but apparently crying for days was still not enough.

  Such a huge, icy hole. Right in the middle of her heart. Like she could look right through her chest and out the back and that space could never be filled again. And that hollow pit squeezed the breath from her any time she let herself drift too close.

  She heard her mom come into the kitchen. The whole group had been through periodically, each of them at different times or in twos or threes, checking on her. Knowing how she struggled.

  “Nani can’t stop raving about the waffles,” Mom walked over and stood near her at the sink. Tentatively she began gathering dishes to wash.

  Jess pinched away the last of the welling sob, “Does anybody else want one?” turned off the sink and went to get Nani’s.

  Mom shook her head. “I don’t think so. We’re all pretty full.”

  Nani really did love the waffles. No doubt about it. Apparently Bianca had been talking about this moment, building the anticipation for Nani’s first taste of what Bianca had described to her as an Earth delicacy. From what Jess could tell, the Anitran scientist was not disappointed.

  She glanced to the dining room, where Bianca was telling a joke, leaning into Nani as she laughed.

  Amy was on her way into the kitchen.

  “Need help with anything?” she asked as she entered.

  Jess shook her head. “I’ll get it.”

  Her sister came over and stood by Mom. It was a moment like any other growing up. Jess, her mom, her sister. In the kitchen, making food, usually something fun or interesting. They liked to experiment. Her dad had been one lucky man. Three women who liked to bake and try new, delicious stuff to eat? It was a wonder he wasn’t fat.

  Jess peered beyond them to watch him sitting at the head of the table, laughing along with whatever crazy thing B was saying.

  “I still can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother.” Her mom’s voice pulled her back. “I’m too young for that.”

  Amy agreed. “And I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt.”

  Mom eyed Jessica’s flat belly.

  “You sure you’re pregnant?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “The doctor said so?”

  “The doctor said so.”

  It was such a typical Mom conversation. Jess went along with it, outwardly feigning the expected level of annoyance for such an exchange, in her heart loving that at least some things would never change.

  “I thought I had a few more years with you,” Mom sighed. “You know. Finish high school, send you off to college.” She shook her head gently, another, implied sigh in the motion. “I don’t understand even half of what you’ve told me, and I have a feeling there’s way more you haven’t told me, but I’m trying. Call it Mother’s intuition, but I know you’re going to be okay.

  “Still,” and she gave her a pointed stare, “I don’t care where you’ve been or what you’ve done, you’ll always be my baby.”

  Jess smiled for her. “I know.”

  Mom had a new regard for her daughter. Jess might always be her baby, yes, but Mom knew she’d changed. The shock of everything that had happened, and was still happening, was clear in her eyes, and Mom knew next to nothing of the real truth. But she was coping, and she truly was satisfied in that moment. All was not right with the world, and yet it was.

  She and Jess had talked a bunch, as much as Jess dared, and there was no denying the shift. It was true Mom knew nothing of the really crazy stuff like the others, and Jess intended to keep it that way, but Mom also knew her daughter had been through a lot and had grown in ways she might never fully comprehend. No matter any of that, Jess would, in fact, always be her little girl. That would always be true, and none of anything that had happened would change that.

  Jess wouldn’t want it any other way.

  Amy tried to get her to come back to the table but Jess said she wanted to finish the dishes. There were a lot. She refused their help, and so Amy got Satori’s glass of juice, Nani’s waffle and Dad’s bacon on the warm plate and she and Mom went out and rejoined the group.

  Jess gazed out the window. It was dark by then. Everyone was drinking coffee or just sitting, telling stories and being together.

  She knew they understood.

  Methodically she turned to the sink and began rinsing the rest of the dishes, putting them in the washer, listening to the conversation now and again, with them in spirit, pausing to look into the dining room at all the laughing faces. Bianca continued to be the life of the party, but what was new. Jess watched contentedly as her best friend hung on Nani and Nani, in turn, squeezed her close. Nani looked so pretty in civilian, Earth clothes. With a permanent fashion consultant like her girlfriend how could she not? She laid her head on Bianca’s shoulder as Bianca regaled everyone with some silly story or joke—Jess couldn’t hear the specifics over the water—making them laugh with her ridiculous impressions. Jess smiled.

  That little group out there had won the day. In a big way, and this celebration was much deserved. A humble dining room, from the looks of it, yet so much more than it appeared. Jess knew the magnitude of what they’d done. Seeing them gathered around that simple table was like bearing witness to a true Hall of Heroes.

  She felt a deep sigh rising in her breast and let it go.

  It was a modern fairytale. Happily Ever After would depend on them. Prin
ce Charming had almost saved the day, but in the end it was she who did. Prince Charming was gone. She, the princess, saved the day and, after all that, after the great adventure leading to that bitter end, she was alone. There would be no ride into the sunset. Not the Happy Ending anyone would’ve expected. Other, key players were lost. People who should never have been. Heroes died. Too many had died, she thought, and at the end of the day the princess was alone. Completely alone, in so many ways, so unlike anyone, her future so uncertain it made her want to weep all over again.

  There were bright spots. Hope amid the ruin. The good guys won. The good guys did win, she reminded herself, and that was amazing and there was cause for celebration, everywhere, and they had a right to be happy. The kingdom, though changed forever, held infinite promise.

  Curiously, in this fairytale, the girl got the girl.

  She looked to B and Nani.

  So in love.

  That alone was a twist.

  Laughing, everyone laughing … it was hard not to notice the occasional cringe on the faces of Bianca’s parents. They tried not to show it, but it was clear this challenged them. The traditional Indian culture they came from had strict ideas when it came to relationships. It was hard for them to watch their daughter like this, so blatantly showing such affection for Nani—Nani showing just as much for Bianca in return. Knowing their only daughter was in love with a girl. So enmeshed were they in that old culture, to have Bianca—not with a white man, which was bad enough; they always had trouble with her boyfriends, of all colors, and so a non-Indian boy would’ve been bad enough—but with a white girl.

  And not even an Earth girl.

  Jess smiled and almost laughed. It felt good.

  Yes, there were plenty of things everyone was going to have to get used to. It was a different world, but it was not a worse world. In fact in many ways it was a better world, and it was safe, and it was strong, and the future looked quite bright indeed.

  EPILOGUE

  Memorials were held. Lives were honored. Jess told the tale of Cheops and his men. Many toasts were raised, to all who gave so much. Among the remembrances a special ceremony was given for Zac; a solemn affair that yet drew the most powerful players in this new world order. Held right on the field where he fell, renamed the Fields of Hope in his honor, and they blew the long, bone horn, its deep, mournful sound resonating across the snowy hills.

  The bagpipes were played.

  Yamoto came, from Anitra, along with Lindin. From the Kel the new Tremarch, Voltan, was there. When he requested to pay tribute to the great human warrior Jess had, of course, not refused. With him came a handful of fresh leadership; one named Eldron, who was introduced as the Kel commander who recovered Kang and the Icon in space that fateful day, a sort of hero or villain, depending on which faction of Kel you asked. For Jess it was a fascinating connection. Here was the commander of the ship, the first Kel they encountered when this all began. The one commanding the warship they fled when they rescued Zac.

  Heath and Pete also came, and Drake. And of course Zac’s closest friends. Willet and Satori, Nani and Bianca. Darvon. Even Galfar and Haz made the trip. The small band of adventurers that made such an impact across the whole of humanity and Kel alike. Arclyss too, impressing all, and Jess had begun to lay the foundations of what must come.

  In so many ways it was only the beginning.

  She made special trips to Hamonhept, a few, to see to the concealment of what Galfar held, which she entrusted to him and Arclyss, and as yet no one was asking for anything directly. But they would. So much was wrapped up in those secrets and she had so far to go to understand them, to unlock the Codes and what they promised …

  For now, and following the memorials and the honors, she at last brought Zac home. Not her home, but their home. That place where, for a brief instant in time, they held a day eternal. Nomadic lovers, she and Zac, so many places they’d been and yet none to call their own. None where they did more than pass through, in the midst of running for their lives, in the middle of trying to save the world. And so she decided this would be it. This was home. And the adventure was over and Zac was done and it was time to lay him to rest.

  It was a beautiful morning in the Spanish hills.

  She strolled, a leisurely pace through the grass, taking in the spectacular vista all around. She’d seen multi-colored worlds and triple suns and sights beyond imagination, and yet this view from the Spanish mountain was beyond anything else right then. Plunging valleys coated in the deep green of forests, rugged peaks beneath a pale blue sky. Only a few wisps of clouds. To her left, where she walked, vines climbed the side of the old wine barn, the sight of its weathered familiarity soothing.

  All traces of the violence that took place on the farm had been removed. The mass grave of the Bok was gone. The vault was still down there, underground, completely empty but otherwise no sign of anything that had been. The little farm had been restored. Idyllic, quiet and serene, looking for all the world like it probably did when it was a thriving little winery so many decades ago.

  She walked on across the lawn, to the edge of the trees at the far side, to a clearing near the small stream that cut the property. Its rippling babble grew as she neared. Zac’s headstone was in there, among the trees; the spot she’d chosen—the perfect spot—a soothing place for him in his final rest, close to the things that held such significance, yet peacefully alone amid the tranquility. The gentle flow of water and the song of birds drifted on the air.

  Pine needles scrunched pleasantly beneath her feet as she entered the trees. She continued on to Zac’s headstone at the edge of the creek. It was a small creek, but there was life in that clear, cool water, things swimming in its modest depths.

  Maybe one day she’d do some fishing.

  Today she wore jeans and a plain T-shirt, nothing fancy, just regular Earth clothes, as casual as it got, barefoot in jeans and a Tee, feeling so utterly normal in so many ways, strolling through the woods. Looking like any girl anywhere else in the world.

  She only wished that was true.

  Dappled sunlight glittered on the water. So beautiful. Relaxing. She looked up, into the canopy overhead.

  She wore the hat. The Spec Ops hat Pete gave them. It was pretty badass, she had to admit. In her hands she held Zac’s. Matching hats, matching logos. She’d brought it to leave with him. She also brought two framed photos. The first was the one of her, the black and white one of her gasping in laughter. Zac’s favorite. Hers too. She remembered Bianca taking the picture that summer right before all this happened. They were joking around in the back yard—it was Bianca, of course; what was new—cracking jokes and making some ridiculous expression that got Jess laughing so hard, and at the perfect moment B snapped the pic. After that Jess kept it and had it framed, thinking it was probably the happiest she’d ever been. At least it was the best record of it.

  She held the frame where she could see it.

  The other picture was in color. It was the picture she took of Zac, posing on her bed in that impromptu moment when she returned and the world was about to come to an end but they were together and time stood still. It was him from the chest up, leaning back on the bed—she recalled the moment vividly, his naked perfection, so innocent and in love—ending up looking more gorgeous than he ever intended. Like some impossibly chiseled cologne model, though he wasn’t even trying. Zac just couldn’t help it. Light beard, mussed hair from the shower, sexy expression and all. Even though he gave a natural little smile when she took it, he still had the look. It was the only real photo she had of him, and she didn’t care how posed he looked it was perfect, he was perfect, and the two pictures, her black and white, extreme laughter, and his color, faintly smiling repose, went perfect together.

  She walked to the headstone, footsteps crunchy in the serenity of the gentle woods. She’d chosen black marble for his marker, no special inscription, no thoughtful saying as she could think of none worthy enough to summarize who he was, w
ho he’d been, so indescribable was his life. So indescribable was what he meant to her. And so the stone said simply “Zac”, in big letters, no dates.

  A fragrant breeze blew and as the leaves of the shading trees moved back and forth the rays of morning sun peeked through brighter, then dimmer, then brighter again, flutters of golden light dancing across the ground and the dark marble. She watched them flicker warmly across her feet and the legs of her jeans. Such calm in the air, such comfort.

  Such a beautiful morning.

  She knelt and positioned the framed pictures at the base, just so, then placed the hat beside them and stood. She touched the angel necklace, just above the collar of her shirt and snug around her neck, blinking away tears.

  The smells of the forest were fresh, familiar, invigorating, and she drew a long, deep breath of the mountain air, letting the serenity of that place revitalize her. One day was all they’d spent there, she and Zac, but it was etched into her mind. All of it, all the sensations, all the smells, every taste and every memory; a perfect record of every second. She could even recall the exact flavor of the spaghetti; not her best work, but under the circumstances it turned out pretty good, and Zac absolutely loved it.

  Zac always loved it.

  Idly she continued her wandering stroll, out of the woods and back out to the acres of farmland. She’d stayed at the house that night, and might stay a few more. She wasn’t sure. Everything right then was in flux. After everything that had happened she’d earned it. Earned much, in truth. She could walk in this quiet field and enjoy this moment of peace and this was the sort of true serenity that only came with confidence. The future was wide open and filled with every possibility, she was alive and filled with life and power and such potential as she hadn’t even begun to digest and could hardly quantify and all was good.