“Okay,” Chris said. “We’ll get Amanda in for an x-ray tomorrow and see about getting her cast removed. What next?”
“Amanda and I will go over our final plans for the transfer when we talk this evening. She is very anxious to get started so I think maybe within the next two to three days, both of you should write notes for Amanda to take with her. Include all of the details you want her to remember.”
“I’m confused,” Chris and Diane said in unison. Chris continued by saying, “Why won’t she remember without our notes? That doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s understandable,” replied Shemalla as she then tried to explain, “The gates are not designed for beings from Earth. To help protect Tuala from unwanted interference, the gates are programmed to erase the memory of any Earthling when he or she passes through, in either direction. Written notes, carefully protected in sealable plastic is the easiest way to ‘remind’ a person as to why they are in a new place. If Amanda comes back to Earth, she will have to make sure to write an explanation for herself or she may not even remember her own children.”
“That sounds like a serious risk! But how will she remember to look for a note, if her memory is erased?” Chris asked logically.
“That’s been my concern as well, so I think we should include something which crinkles or is uncomfortable so Amanda will check it out before she gets very far into her journey.”
“That sounds good in theory,” Chris continued, “but can’t we make arrangements for someone to meet with Amanda? She has several contacts in Tuala whom she could trust.”
“I would like nothing better, but there’s the problem of contact. I’m afraid to use my patil here on Earth to contact someone other than my family. I have no idea if my personal communications are being monitored. I would hate to put Amanda’s journey in jeopardy even before it has begun.” She raised her hands in resignation and set them on the table in front of her. “Do any of you have any other ideas which might be helpful?”
Each person shook their head in negation. Silence continued. Again, the waitress brought them their food during this silence. She looked around the table and wondered what was going on with these people. They were very strange. She just hoped they would leave a good tip. They had already been seated in her section for a long time.
The group ate their meal with very sparse conversation. Usually, the things spoken were small- talk such as passing the salt or pepper. Nobody really had an appetite, they were just going through the motions. After the waitress had picked up their empty plates and left them their bill, they resumed their prior conversation.
Chris asked, “How long should our papers be for Amanda to take with her? I know Diane would probably like to write a book so Amanda will remember everything. Should we limit it to just a couple of pages each?”
“That sounds about right,” Shemalla agreed and then added, “It’s not as though her memory will be erased. Think of it more like her memories will be covered up temporarily. Once she is reminded of key ideas, she will be able to pull her previous ideas back into her conscious thoughts. Without the reminding guidance of your letters, her mind will be like a blank slate in a new world.” She then turned to Diane and said, “You might want to write a separate note for your sister. I’m sure there are things which have happened in your life or with your family which you think she might be interested in knowing. It’s kind of one-sided, but at least there would be some contact made.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Diane said with some excitement. She liked the idea of letting her sister know all the family business since she had gone missing. “Can we include pictures as well?”
“No, we don’t have pictures like they are done here on Earth. You could have a drawing made, but that would be the only thing that could pass for normal. Tualans use a plasfilm technology which is similar to photo processing, but the medium is quite apparently different.”
Chris was intrigued with this new information and wished he could see samples of their technology. Of course, that was not the reason they were meeting with Shemalla so he refrained from asking. He decided he should return the conversation to the complications surrounding Amanda’s journey.
“Will Amanda be able to communicate with you once she’s made the transfer?” Chris asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” Shemalla had to admit. She did not really like the idea of sending her through the gate without any real notion as to what would happen to her on the other side. Shemalla could only take precautions, but she could not negate all of Amanda’s risks.
“Maybe Amanda could become friends with your family and contact you through your patil,” Chris offered hopefully.
“I can’t imagine how that would ever be possible. My family doesn’t live anywhere near where Amanda will be going. They live up near what you know as Alaska,” she replied sadly.
Chris looked deflated for a few minutes, then another idea occurred to him, “What if Amanda were to establish a real reason to contact you through Captain Ahn’s or Bryon’s patil?”
“It’s possible, but again, the risk of monitored communications would make me leery of trying it.”
“I can look into it once I’m there,” Amanda interrupted before they could debate the issue further. “If Shemalla gave me her contact information I can assess my situation and see if there would ever be an opportunity for me to establish contact. If that works out, then Shemalla can let you know.”
“As long as you don’t take any unnecessary risks, Amanda, I’d be okay with that,” Shemalla offered.
Chris patted Diane’s hand and said, “I don’t think we’re doing anything here but stalling for more time with Amanda. We should let them get on with their plans. Besides, we need to spend the next couple of days writing our notes for Amanda.” He grabbed the bill and slid out of the booth. He offered his hand to Diane and looked across the table at Shemalla, “I know you want to keep her safe. Please try to think of every contingency so she will have the best chance of success.”
“I promise I absolutely will.” She watched them pay the bill at the front counter and then leave the diner. She could not help but feel sorry for their plight. Shemalla promised herself that even after Amanda used the gate, she would continue to work on finding a way to create a two-way communication for the broken family.
Amanda elbowed Shemalla gently and said cheerfully, “Let’s get out of here so we can continue planning without fear of being overheard.”
“Sounds good to me!”
Chapter Thirteen
PETRE HAD JUST finished stacking as many boxes into the personal telepod as he could possibly fit and still be able to access the door. He also left room to be able to reach Jena which was an odd new consideration in his simple, selfish life. Bending over her basket, Petre stared at his little girl and wondered if she should be waking up anytime soon. He contemplated picking her up but decided against it until he was ready to leave.
He walked away and went outside. Looking around the location where he had stashed the rest of the cargo he made sure there was no sign of him being there for anyone else to discover. Satisfied with what he saw he turned around and entered the packed personal telepod.
Palming the entry closed he turned on the interior lights at the control console. This allowed a small amount of light to filter back to where Jena was sleeping. Finally unable to resist Petre bent over and gently picked her up and snuggled her into the crook of his arm.
He smiled as he continued to stare at her face when he said, “You are mine, Jena. Nobody will ever keep you away from me now that I have you. I may have lost my other child because of that whore, Hashma, but I’m not going to lose you. Your mother didn’t have any right to keep you from me. I told her I always wanted a daughter named Jena. I’m glad she used the name I picked for you. If Jesisca had stayed with me, she would still be alive. Don’t worry, Jena, I’ll make everyone pay who kept you and your mother away from me. As soon as I get some money together, we can
sail away in my water craft, and nobody will ever keep us apart or tell us what to do.”
He stroked the soft hair on her head and wished he had more time to hold her. He really needed to get going if he were going to sell this inventory. Gently, Petre settled Jena back down into the laundry basket and went back to the operator’s seat of the telepod.
After entering the start up sequence, Petre visualized his next coordinates. He gripped the activation module and felt the utter nothingness as the telepod moved through a void and finally entered into the air above his secret staging location.
He wished he were able to just go to his water craft and sail away. He was always uneasy when he was on land. It just seemed too stable and rigid. He preferred the constant movement and shifting of the water. The unpredictability of the water matched his lifestyle and his personality.
Petre maneuvered the telepod next to the small shack he used as a trading post and temporary dwelling. Once the telepod was resting on the ground and turned off, he palmed the door open and went outside. He gathered branches from the ground and threw them onto the top of the telepod to help disguise the general shape from any overhead searches.
He thought about moving the cargo out of the telepod but decided against it when he heard a small noise coming from the laundry basket. He raced over to where Jena lay and picked up the whole basket. Petre rushed into the shack and set her on the only table in the middle of the room.
He raced back to the telepod and gathered all of the food and supplies he had collected for Jena at Ninan’s house. Of course, this took two trips to accomplish, and he did drop a couple of things on the ground in his hurry. He could hear Jena crying at this point, and he shouldered the door open so it banged against the back wall before springing back to close. He danced out of the range of the door just as it slammed shut.
Jena stopped crying as the slamming startled her only to take a deeper breath and renew her wailing with increased vigor. She had slept for a very long time, and she was both wet and hungry. She was not going to be satisfied until she had a dry clout and was being held in the comfort of her mother’s arm with a bottle of milk to satisfy her hungry need.
Of course, Petre had no idea what to do so he leaned over Jena and spoke reasonably to her, “It’s okay, Jena, I’m here now.” He was impressed when she did stop crying and actually looked at him. What he did not expect was when her face screwed up, and her crying began again louder than ever. “Hey, hey, stop that, Jena!” Petre said in a booming voice which did not even register with Jena or decrease the volume of her screams.
Petre braved the child’s wrath and picked her up from the basket. The volume of her screams did go down, but then she arched her back, and her whole body went rigid as she protested further. Petre was becoming desperate to make her stop crying so he started to jiggle her up and down awkwardly.
He went over to the counter where he had put the food and grabbed a carrot and said, “Jena, do you want a carrot?” She did not even open her eyes to see what he was offering, she just continued her screaming. Reasoning with her was not working, he put the tip of the carrot into her mouth and was rewarded with her lips clamping down on the offering. She sucked on it strongly and then used her hand to swipe it away. Her crying began again. “Hey now, that wasn’t very nice,” Petre said as he stared in disbelief at the carrot on the floor.
“What do you want, Jena?” he asked desperately. Using one hand, he opened the bag of bread and extracted a slice. He held it to her mouth and saw her mouth clamp shut on it immediately, the same as the carrot. While she did not throw it on the floor, she also did not try to eat it. She gummed it around her mouth while her tongue pushed it out of her mouth. She did stop crying, but little residual sobs kept disturbing her eating.
Petre looked at her closely and realized she was a mess. She had snot dripping out of her nose and tears were making wet trails from the outside corners of her eyes where they had dripped into her hair. Her face had splotches of red, and she was not nearly as cute as she had been when she was sleeping peacefully. She had managed to smear soggy bread bits all over her face, hair, and clothes. He did not know how that had happened so fast. He was just relieved she had stopped crying.
The piece of bread was gone, and Jena was growing unhappy swiftly. He grabbed another slice of bread and handed it to her with alacrity. She grabbed it in both of her hands and tried to jam the whole thing in her mouth. Of course, she was not very coordinated, and pieces were falling all over. She had smashed slobbery globs of bread in between her fingers as she crumbled the bread to bits without getting much of it into her mouth. She did not want bread, she was thirsty.
She was getting angry that her thirst was not being addressed. She started to get herself worked up to cry again when Petre handed her another slice of bread. Jena immediately threw that on the floor right next to the carrot.
“What do you want, Jena?” Petre almost screamed. His tone startled Jena, and she looked up at him with her big blue eyes opened wide. Big tears started to form, and she took a deep breath to start crying again.
“Are you thirsty, Jena?” Petre tried to control his tone because he actually realized it had scared Jena. He clumsily removed the lid from the jar of milk and poured it into the plasfilm cup. He held it out to her not realizing she had never used a cup before. She did not know what to do with it so she grabbed it with both hands and promptly poured it all over herself.
“Ugh,” screamed Petre and he immediately moved her away from his body to minimize the mess on his shirt. “What did you do that for? That was stupid! What a mess,” he continued as he looked for a place to set her down where he could take off her soggy, filthy clothes. He grabbed one of the towels out of the laundry basket and unfurled it on the floor.
Bending over, Petre laid Jena on the towel and began unsnapping her onesie. He sat her up and pulled it over her head without thought of her ears or nose. She started to cry again with his rough treatment. Not knowing what to do with the wet garment he balled it up and threw it toward the sink. He looked around for something to put on Jena when he realized he did not have any other outfit for her. He was going to have to wrap her in a towel until he was able to clean and dry her onesie.
He took another towel out of the laundry basket and started to wrap her up when he realized that her clout was soaking wet as well. He laid her down on her back and unfastened her clout. He pulled it off hurriedly before he realized she had had a runny bowel movement. The poo smeared all along the length of her leg. The cold air stimulated her to have a strong stream of urine which just happened to flow right onto Petre’s pants as he knelt on the floor next to her.
“Ugh,” Petre screamed again as he scooted backward to get away from the gross mess. He was completely at a loss for what he should do now that his perfect little girl was a complete naked disaster on the floor. He had no idea how this had all gone so wrong, so quickly.
He looked around at everything he was going to have to do. He was going to have to clean Jena, both of the towels since they were now completely soiled, her clout and onesie, and his shirt and pants as well. He was very thankful he had grabbed the entire stack of towels since it appeared they would all be needed shortly.
Leaving Jena to her own resources on the floor, he stood up and selected another towel from the stack. He took it to the sink and wet it down. He took the sloppy towel back to Jena and started to smear the messy poo around. He was becoming frustrated with how much Jena wiggled around while he was trying to do a thorough job of getting her clean. He started swearing under his breath as he tried to grab both of her legs again to pick up her bottom to get the nasty smear which had mysteriously found its way up her back. “How could this have gotten so far?” Petre asked desperately as he struggled to finish the unsavory job.
Petre felt relief and satisfaction when Jena was finally clean of all her disgusting messes. He moved her naked body to a clean towel on the floor next to where he had started. He scooped up the soi
led towels and dumped the whole mess into the sink.
He ran warm water into the sink and picked up each article and washed them as best he could. After wringing them out, he draped each item on any place which looked likely for drying. Jena had started crying again. He turned around and stared at her with wonder as he said, “What in the world was I thinking to take you with me now? I have no idea how to take care of a baby. I’m going to have to figure something else out to keep myself sane!”
Petre poured another plasfilm cup of milk. He folded the towel around Jena and picked her up. He held her in his left arm and offered her the cup of milk. This time, he did not let her control the cup but instead, he held it for her and brought it to her lips. He tipped it slightly so the milk could wet her lips.
As planned, she opened her mouth, and he poured a little milk in her mouth. Not really knowing what to do with the milk, she let it dribble down her throat and immediately started choking on it. Petre instantly sat her up and started thumping her on the back. The new position did help, but her throat was still irritated so the coughing continued for a few anxious minutes.
Petre was at a loss for what to do. He could tell she wanted to drink but she did not know how to drink out of a cup obviously. When her coughing subsided, he lifted the cup to her lips again. This time he kept her sitting up and only poured a couple drops into her mouth. He took the cup away and she closed her mouth and swallowed. It worked, Petre congratulated himself.
Together, they continued this way of drinking until the whole cup was gone. Most of it had gone into Jena’s stomach but some of it had dribbled down her chin, onto her chest, and soaked into the once fresh towel. Petre thought that if every meal took four towels and two outfits, he was going to be in trouble.
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