It was Earth.
Aimee passed out.
* * *
Carrie Brenneman played the trumpet. She also played a mean game of softball. She was Aimee’s best friend despite the fact that Aimee had not a single coordinated bone in her body. Time and time again, Carrie tried to recruit Aimee for some sport league, but the results usually ended up with a black eye or sprained wrist. So instead, marching band was the only place where these two outcasts compromised.
On one scary occasion, Carrie and Aimee missed the band bus to the game and stood on the curb contemplating their options. A senior they did not know rolled up in front of them in a souped-up Civic. His car smelled like cigarettes and a tattoo of a dragon branded the arm hanging out the window. He asked if they missed the bus and wanted a ride.
Aimee and Carrie took that ride only because they were desperate to catch up with the band, and too naïve to think about the consequences. Ironically, the boy ended up being sincere and he talked to them genially about football and insufficient parking at the stadium during the seven minute trek.
After they arrived safely, the shock of what they had done settled in and a pact was made to never accept a ride from a stranger again. Just because they’d been lucky the first time didn’t mean that they were stupid enough to tempt the fates again. Aimee was sure that she wouldn’t have done something that stupid again.
“She’s coming out of it.” A woman’s voice intruded on Aimee’s bad dream. At least she hoped it was a bad dream. Maybe she’d hit her head and this was the voice of a pleasant nurse in the emergency room. Wouldn’t Carrie laugh at the dream?
Aimee’s eyes opened. A woman with long blonde hair and wide violet eyes was watching her. She looked exotic and beautiful, dressed in the same silver uniform Aimee had seen before—but this woman’s figure did the costume justice. Her expression was tender and sympathetic. She smiled down at Aimee and Aimee felt her eyes well up. All she wanted right now was to tell Carrie about the bad dream.
“I want to go home,” she choked out.
The woman made a tsking sound and touched her arm.
“I know you do. It was a terrible mistake that has placed you here, but we cannot go back there yet.”
Aimee sat up. She was back on the bed, and knowing the windows were behind her, she fought the urge to turn around. If she didn’t look, then perhaps this was all a mistake. But she could no more ignore the windows than she could ignore the fact that a computer monitor hovered in midair alongside the woman, suspended just out of her reach.
A dream. A bad dream is all this was. She was no longer scared to look out the windows, because quite honestly, none of this was real. Aimee gave this dream woman and her ridiculous floating monitor a big smile as she hefted off the bed and started towards the Plexiglas wall. Her steps faltered, even in slumber. Earth’s glowing surface was no longer there.
Recognizing that this was a dream, nonetheless, she ran up to the window and leaned her forehead against a surface that had no temperature. Stars now held proximity to her. Some were closer than others. Their pulsing rhythm took on a substance…mass.
“It’s gone.” Aimee whispered, twisting her head in search of the familiar planet.
Don’t panic. You’ll wake up soon.
“Yes,” The woman joined her at the window.
Aimee cut a quick sideways glance at her and noticed that the bobbing computer had been left behind. Her dreams weren’t normally this imaginative.
“We had to make a hasty departure,” the woman explained, her tone clipped, but kind. “We didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention from your military.”
Playing along with the hallucination, Aimee asked, “Who are you?”
“I am Chara.” The woman smiled. “You are in shock. We have given you some serum to ease that. I should be able to answer any of your questions now.”
The impulse to laugh was there again and Aimee felt lightheaded. They’d drugged her. That was good. She couldn’t imagine how freaked out she would be if they hadn’t drugged her. Wait, drugs were bad. Her sluggish mind had trouble keeping up.
She leaned against the glass pane, or some clear substance that resembled glass. Whatever this transparent barrier was, it was the only thing to separate her from the black void of space. It felt as if she leaned far enough she could simply float away.
Was that another planet?
In a haze caused by the multitude of stars and perhaps the serum this dream woman gave her, Aimee saw a jade sphere off in the distance. Its circumference was bound by a golden ring—a crooked halo. She tried squinting to get a better look, but her eyes lost focus and it faded into the milky stratosphere.
To hell with it. She was going to ask the dream woman her most pressing question.
“Where am I?” For all the bravado that was put into that question, Aimee heard her voice crack.
Chara arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You are on the Guardian ship Horus.”
“Guardian ship.” Aimee repeated, her mind grappling in denial. “Is it like a space shuttle? Are you an astronaut? How did I get here?”
The dream woman sighed, but her smile conveyed such serenity Aimee started to feel the panic ebb. Those must have been some very strong drugs.
“What name do you go by?” Chara asked.
“Name?” Aimee stumbled to answer the nice, easy question. “Aimee. Aimee Patterson.”
“Aimee Patterson.” Chara tilted her head and enunciated the words as if she was learning a foreign language. “Why don’t I take you to our commander, and perhaps he can answer your questions.”
Answers.
For a moment the cobwebs in Aimee’s head receded. She felt remarkably lucid and ready to take on her captors. Maybe she could talk some sense into this commander. He could just turn this whole thing—whatever it was—around, and take her home.
Chara passed the floating computer and stood before a bare wall. She waved her hand at it, and with a gust of air the barrier evaporated to reveal a cylindrical hallway. Hesitant, Aimee followed Chara into the corridor and felt a swoosh of air against her neck. She spun about to discover that the room behind her had disappeared. Curious, she reached out to touch the wall, and went so far as to wave her hand in front of it, imitating Chara—but nothing happened.
A dream.
“Aimee Patterson?” the woman prodded gently.
“Aimee,” she mumbled.
“Follow me, Aimee.”
She liked the way Chara said her name. As if she used too many long e’s. Eeem-eeee.
A whisper of wind tickled the hair against Aimee’s neck as Chara waved her hand to disclose a chamber lined with illuminated tubes, like a grand pipe organ. Chara stepped inside and dusted her fingers across the keyboard, the grid pulsing beneath her touch. Aimee followed her, and managed a discreet glance at the dream woman. Blonde hair glistened as if infused with diamond conditioner. Her silver uniform reflected off the lights in this small chamber and molded to her like a layer of skin. The material looked like it should crinkle with every movement but it was silent. Chara was tall, but the boots she wore might have attributed to some of the height. Her complexion was flawless, making any conjecture on her age rough, but Aimee guessed her to be close to her Mom’s age. She just felt like a Mom—not Aimee’s mom, but a Mom. Aimee felt a stab of longing for her real mother.
“Ready?” Chara asked with a smile.
And Chara’s eyes. They were what put Aimee at ease in a dream so bizarre and so lengthy. Before, she had deemed them violet, but in this small chamber, at this close range, they looked green…emerald green. Whatever color they were, they were beautiful.
“Ready for what?” Aimee tried to shake herself into paying attention.
Chara’s fingers flexed and Aimee felt her body jerk. The chamber, which she now guessed to be an elevator, was not moving up or down, but traveling at what felt like a high velocity—in a horizontal direction. For one brief second, Aimee nearly smiled beca
use it reminded her of an amusement park ride—the Scrambler—but she clamped down on that enthusiasm and stared at Chara, amazed that the woman stood with her arms crossed, seemingly unaffected by their transport. It would probably be very bad form to shout, “Wheeeee!”
As quickly as it started, the chamber drew to a halt. Chara reached for the jigsaw panel, but slanted a glance at Aimee. The pause was odd. It was as if Chara were giving her a moment to collect herself for the newest shock. That didn’t bode well.
“Welcome to the heart of the Horus,” Chara announced with a smile. One flick of her wrist and the wall evaporated.
Aimee had once taken a cruise to the Caribbean with her parents. She was old enough at the time to explore the ship without their supervision. In the middle of her adventure, the cruise director took notice of her and offered a tour of the captain’s deck. It was breathtaking. Perched atop the ship, the deck offered a 360 degree view of the ocean and was flanked with panels of controls and monitors detailing radar, speed, weather, and their route. It so impressed Aimee that for two years thereafter she was determined to captain a ship someday. As college loomed however, her aspirations turned to something more practical, like engineering. This fall she would be attending the College Of Engineering at NC State University, but she didn’t believe they could teach her how to architect something as impressive as this.
“Oh my,” was all she could manage.
More than ten times the size of that cruise ship’s deck, Aimee had to strain to focus on the people hard at work in the far recesses. The length of a football field, this deck offered a panoramic view—only it wasn’t of the sea. A vista of cosmic wonders with shimmering stars and blue-green nebulas made her gasp. She walked towards the closest window to observe a light show as shooting stars playfully chased each other across a black canvas.
A woman dressed in the conventional silver uniform turned from her console to gape at her with unabashed curiosity. Aimee felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny and returned to Chara’s side, trying to keep her jaw from hanging open. It wasn’t working.
“Okay,” Aimee addressed her. “I’m ready to wake up now.”
Chapter Two
“It’s not a dream,” Chara offered softly, looking up as someone approached.
“Vodu,” Chara bowed her head in deference.
Vodu. Aimee remembered that name. The kind, elderly voice when she first woke. She could see him now with his white hair and deep-set blue eyes, and skin that seemed tan when everyone else around her was very pale. He was tall, but his shoulders hunched slightly with age, and his uniform was different than the others. It was silver, yet the style varied. His silver shirt was long and not nearly as tight as what Chara or that Salvan-guy had worn. Every nuance of this man indicated he held an exalted role.
Aimee searched the deck to see if there were other uniforms similar to Vodu’s, but everyone looked the same. There were disparities as far as physical traits, of course, although predominantly all were fair in coloring. Blonds, pale brunettes, blue eyes, green eyes. The consistent factor that she noticed was that there didn’t seem to be an unattractive person in the crowd. Even Vodu, with his wrinkles and tan skin appeared very regal.
“How is our guest doing?” Vodu asked Chara, while looking directly at Aimee.
“Her name is Aimee Patterson, Vodu,” Chara informed. “I believe she is experiencing some displacement shock. She thinks she is dreaming.”
Vodu shook his head in sympathy and narrowed his eyes as he turned to glare at the young man standing nearby. Aimee recognized Salvan, the blond who had supposedly plucked her from her peaceful stroll along the pond in error. He stood now with his hip against a console, his arms crossed and a smug expression on his alabaster face. His light blond hair was a little long and curled up beneath his ears, and he wore the familiar silver apparel over a lean body. He was probably close to perfection, along the vein of Corey Burnfield, but she perceived his perfection as a flaw. He looked too pretty. Dare she say feminine? He made her uneasy, dissecting her with his eyes as if she was a specimen.
“We apologize, Aimee Patterson, for the mistake that was made in bringing you here, but I assure you that you are not dreaming,” Vodu explained. “Soon the shock will wear off and there will be people here to help you acclimate to your new surroundings.”
“Just Aimee,” she replied.
Vodu’s words settled in and Aimee felt a nagging sense of doubt that she was ever going to wake from all this. She’d landed in a world full of perfect people from the stars and she felt frumpy and awkward in their presence. Maybe it wasn’t so different from high school, but at least she had known what to expect there.
“Where exactly am I?” The question made her feel vulnerable, but it had to be posed. “And don’t say the Guardian ship, Hoorah or whatever.”
Vodu looked perplexed. He glanced over her at Chara for insight, but the woman shrugged her shoulders.
“You are on the Guardian Ship Horus. We have just completed our Lifequest, a journey where we visit planets from four galaxies to collect samples.” Vodu shot Salvan a disappointed glance. “Not human samples. Plant life, mostly. Occasionally some wildlife as young Salvan here was aiming for.”
Aimee was distracted. Silver uniforms flooded the bustling deck, but in her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of someone dressed in black. When she turned to look, there was no one there.
This had been the answer that she’d screwed up her courage to get?
“It was an accident that you were taken from your home, Aimee Patterson.” Vodu explained, still patient. “But it is an accident we cannot correct just now.”
“Aimee,” she whispered, still searching the expansive room with its industrious, shiny staff.
Then she saw it again. A black uniform. It was like the others, tight enough to detail the tall, brawny frame. Its fabric shimmered with gold flecks to make it glisten, but not as obnoxiously bright as the others. Aimee was so busy admiring how striking the fabric was on the obviously masculine body, she didn’t yet manage to raise her glance. Once she did—even from this distance she found herself locked by eyes of such intense amber that they made her breath hitch. They were like looking into the sun. You knew you weren’t supposed to do it—that it might damage you—but it was so beautiful you just couldn’t help it.
It was a young man standing off the melee of the busy deck, his shoulder hitched against the window so that the black void of space was his backdrop. No wonder she couldn’t locate him on her second pass. His uniform looked just like the panorama behind him—black, with subliminal bursts of light that flashed as he moved.
“I know you are in shock and denial,” Vodu continued, either unaware or insensible to her roving gaze. “We understand these traits. We’ve seen them before with other species we’ve picked up along our travels.”
“I thought you only picked up plant life,” Aimee mentioned absently, her eyes still locked with the young man in the shadows. Just because she was distracted didn’t mean that she wasn’t listening. It was a survival trait in her household.
He had dark hair, shorter than the styles that seemed common in this bizarre place. She guessed him to be a few years older than her, although something in his countenance hinted at a maturity far beyond his physical years. He stared at her, his mouth set in a straight line. Not congenial, not disapproving. Not even curious. He just watched her, almost as if she were his prey. Aimee felt a chill and realized that Vodu was still talking.
“On occasion—such as in your case—our life-tracker locks on one thing, and something else jumps into the field before we can terminate the beam.”
“So is that what this ship is? A bunch of others like me that you accidentally picked up?” Aimee broke from the amber gaze to search the deck again. “Is that what you all are? Who are all these people? If not accidental victims, then what—NASA? Everyone speaks English so I guess you’re from NASA, not the Russian space program or anything.”
> “Nasssah?” Vodu rubbed at his jaw. To his right, Salvan snickered. And against the backdrop of the cosmos, the man in black continued to watch her.
“No, we are not part of your space program,” Vodu answered with a tolerant tone, “or the Russians. We speak your language because it is what you communicate in. We speak many dialects. If you started talking in Russian, we would accommodate.”
“Madre de Dios.” Aimee dropped a line that her friend Carrie always used when she was mad.
“Si, hablamos Espanol, tambien.” The old man responded with a perfect Latin inflection.
Aimee was about to drop another test when a siren like none she had ever heard before pierced the deck. It was so invasive and unexpected she cowered on her knees. The shock made her nauseous.
Vodu moved nimbly for an old man. He jogged to the highest platform, a console filled with silver figures whose fingers sashayed across luminous keypads like master maestros. A computer floated by and someone snatched it with trembling hands.
“What is that noise?” Aimee asked of Chara, whose serene countenance now harbored tiny wrinkles of fear around her eyes.
“We are being tracked.” Chara told her as if that explained everything.
“Tracked?” Aimee asked, a new fear entering her mind. If these people had floating computers, spaceships, and laser beams—then what possible situation or entity could make them afraid?
“Chara.” The woman holding the suspended computer cast a strained look their way. “We need you.”
The siren sounded like a high-pitched fire alarm of nuclear proportions and Aimee lifted her hands over her ears, but Chara was speaking to her. She followed the movements of her lips. Yep, they were worried. Aimee didn’t even begin to think that some special forces from Earth were coming to save her, but the fear in the eyes of these people was genuine. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to realize that if they were in danger, so was she. How could this situation possibly get any worse? Yesterday she feared being humiliated by a Lamborghini-driving jock. Today her fright knew no bounds.
Beyond : Series Bundle (9781311505637) Page 2
