“Where is Vanessa?” Raimey asked. “I want to see my baby girl.”
= = =
The sky was beautiful. John had never seen a sky so blue.
“It’s sampled from Montana,” he heard over his thoughts. He followed the voice through the wildflowers and prairie grass. A pheasant shot up from a bush ahead of him, and he marveled at its color.
He walked toward the voices. His steps were light, barely trampling the ground beneath him.
He saw Justin. There was a picnic basket with sandwiches. A pitcher of lemonade.
And then he saw her.
Vanessa.
She stood up. John Raimey, able-bodied and without the battle chassis that had defined his life, ran to her and wrapped her in his arms.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
“You came, Daddy,” Vanessa said. “You said you would always protect me, and you did.”
Justin watched their reunion with a tear in his eye. In the back of his mind, he kept the clouds swirling overhead and the breeze gently blowing. In the back of his mind, Justin controlled everything: the pheasant that vanished after a mile of flight, as if it had never been there; the sound of crickets, which came from no rubbing legs. In the back of his mind, he swam in the sea of eight billion minds. But here, right now, this was real. A father reunited with his long-lost daughter. A final mission that meant so much more than any of the thousands before. A father and daughter who could be with one another for as long as their bodies held out.
China Girl had cut Raimey out of his Tank Major chassis. The giant shell now lay sprawled on the floor, never to move again. The blood of its bearer congealed in it like an altar sacrifice, taking John’s sins and tying them to that colossal, monstrous frame.
China Girl put John into the pod that Lindo had occupied. There was no reason to attach the Impetus machine; his time was nearly up. China Girl then went into a corner of the room and lay down, awaiting her next instruction.
As Justin watched the embrace between father and daughter, he conjured butterflies to fly from the flowers around them and circle overhead like a new promise. He looked up at the sky, and for a moment he saw a pinprick of light beyond it.
The wonder of life.
The wonder of love.
The absolute wonder of our world.
Why did we let it fall into such peril?
Author’s Note
I want to thank all of the readers who have taken days (and weeks) out of their lives to read this series. I hope it was as enjoyable to read as it was for me to write. In one form or another, this story has been in my head for twelve years. It’s strange to be done with it, but it’s also a relief. These characters have become real to me and it brings comfort that Raimey has finally found solace, and Glass (though consumed in a mushroom of fire) his humanity.
If you like this book (or the series) please post a review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, etc. For indie authors, that is our currency and is greatly appreciated.
Also, follow me on Twitter: @mikegullickson. I promise I rarely talk about writing.
And if you want, shoot me an e-mail at [email protected]
Enjoy your life, and be kind.
Mike Gullickson
3/17/15
The Northern Star Trilogy: Omnibus Edition Page 93
