“Mama!” Henry wailed and reached for her, fighting against Kitty’s grasp.
“Here,” Lauren said, lifting one hand. “I’ll take him. Kitty, help Rowan.”
Lauren lay flat on her back, pressing the make-shift bandaging down, wincing as she did. “Do you have an exit wound?” Rowan asked as he worked the bandaging under her brother’s limp form.
“I don’t think so ...” She winced, pinching her eyes shut.
Henry lay his head on her chest, patting her. “Mama ...”
Lauren put a hand on his arm. “Mama’s going to be okay, sweetie.” She tried to reassure him.
“Keep pressure on that wound, Honey,” Rowan instructed her.
“Where are we?” Lauren muttered, feeling like her voice was farther away than it should be. Dots were dancing in her eyes now and the lights began to dim.
“Hold this,” she heard Rowan say to Kitty, then he appeared over her. His features were out of focus, but her hand went to his chest. “Lauren?”
“I’m ... so sleepy ...” she whispered.
“No!” Rowan shouted. “You can’t sleep yet! Stay with me.” He patted her cheek, trying to hold on to her. His hand went to the wound on her side, and he lifted the bandage to inspect it. Blood welled up from the hole, an indicator that there was no arterial bleeding. That was a good sign, but she wasn’t out of danger. “Lauren?” her head rolled to the side but righted as her eyes seemed to focus on him. “Come on, talk to me.”
“Just help ... my brother,” she insisted, weakly trying to push him away.
In desperation, Rowan pressed the cloth down against her stomach, probably harder than he had to. The pain that shot through her brought her back to the moment and she fought to move his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You have to stay with me. I won’t lose you.”
“It’s just a ... a flesh wound ...” She forced herself up on her elbow, realizing pain was the one thing keeping her conscious. “Michael?”
“He’s losing a lot of blood,” Kitty said. Her complexion had gone pale as she glanced down at the blood pouring from between her fingers.
“I’m afraid the bullet nicked his spleen ... maybe hit his liver, too,” Rowan said. “I don’t have a triage kit ... no Quik Klot, nothing to stop the bleeding.” He paused, checking for a pulse. “Christ!” He gasped and folded his hands over her brother’s chest, beginning compressions, instructing Kitty to keep pressure on the wound.
“Michael,” Kitty called his name as she followed instructions. Against her pale skin, her eyes reddened, and Lauren considered for a moment that she looked a bit like a white rabbit, then also considered her own grip on consciousness might be slipping as she laid back down, gazing up at the odd ceiling.
“Do something ...” Lauren pleaded. He glanced up at her as he tried to do what he could, which wasn’t much. “Save him ...” Her voice trailed off.
“Lauren?” Rowan’s voice echoed in her head.
“I can’t lose him ... I have so many things to tell him ... so many things to make right.” Tears welled up in her eyes. She knew it was just a matter of time. Michael was dying.
“Lauren?” Rowan’s voice moved farther away. “Lauren!”
“Mama ...” Henry caught her braid as he buried his face in her shoulder. “Mama ...”
A whooshing noise broke the eerie silence. Lauren craned her head around. An invisible door opened, and a shadowed figure stood at the threshold. Rowan gasped and slumped down onto his rump as he fell back. A horrified gaze overtook his face.
Lauren’s grip on her son tightened. She should have been afraid, but an odd calm washed over her. Kitty’s eyes rolled back, and she went limp. She collapsed in a heap on the floor beside Lauren.
Chapter 16
The figure stepped into the room, and the lighting lifted. Lauren’s vision cleared, and she got her first good look at it. The being was nothing like the image she had in her mind of an alien — yet it was everything she’d imagined; and more. It appeared exceptionally tall. Its smooth skin was a gentle silvery blue-gray, almost sparkly in the dim light. Lauren was enraptured by its large black eyes that seemed kind as it peered down at her. It had an elongated skull, around which it wore a circlet of gold and precious gems. There were two vertical slits for a nose, and barely more than a horizontal slit for a mouth.
Unlike many images of extraterrestrials, this being wore adornments, and a robe that hid its intimate secrets. It appeared to be bipedal. It was tridactyl ... three fingers on each hand. In the long cloak, she couldn’t tell what its feet might look like. She wanted to see if they were cloven, like the body of the infant god-child they had found in Peru.
A bizarre piercing click echoed around her and she struggled to clamp her hands over her ears, wincing at the pain in her head, as well as the pain in her body. Henry wailed, and Lauren realized Rowan was in a similar position. The being backed up a moment and the noise stopped. “F ... F ... F... For ... forgive ...” the words didn’t appear to come from the creature, but rather was a part of the air around them. Its tone was soft, warm, and rich. The being’s speech was soothing, even as the being seemed to struggled to form the words. “W ... w ... we forget ...” Lauren lowered her hands as she realized she could understand the speech. “We forget how fragile you are ...” the being seemed to have communicated. Lauren didn’t know if anyone else could understand it. She kept it in her peripheral vision as she focused on Michael.
Her husband reached over and caught Lauren’s hand. Her gaze returned to Michael as she realized Rowan wasn’t working on him. “Is he?” she looked to Rowan with pain in her eyes.
Rowan pursed his lips and shook his head. “I’m sorry ...” he said. “No pulse ... he’s gone. I couldn’t save him.” He reached for her, but a pained gasp escaped Lauren’s throat.
Before tears could escape her eyes, the entity moved towards them, lifting a hand. Michael’s form levitated off the floor, and Rowan jumped back, nearly falling over Kitty who roused. Henry squealed brightly, pointing at Michael. “My my!” He tried to say his uncle’s name.
Rowan knelt back beside her. At her bidding, he helped her sit up, supporting her in a reclined position, taking over the effort to hold pressure on her wound as her hands went limp beside her. Her head fell back into his shoulder and she sighed contentedly.
“Can you help him?” Lauren asked as the being made a motion with its other hand, and a table rose from the floor beneath Michael’s limp form. A warm light radiated from the pedestal, blinking in a slow thudding pulse that throbbed audibly.
“Faith, curious one,” the being seemed to say.
“Do you understand it?” Rowan asked. “What’s it saying?”
Lauren realized she was alone in her comprehension. “I do.” Henry reached for his father, who pulled the baby up into his arm with his free hand.
The being turned pointing a hand at Lauren. “You too are ... broken.”
Lauren gasped as she felt herself being lifted off the floor by an unseen force. Rowan released his grip, scooping up Henry and scrambling to his feet as a second table lifted up. The force moved her to its surface. Lauren melted onto the table as a warm feeling of safety came over her. Rowan caught her hand as the being moved between the two beds, placing a hand on Michael’s head, then put the other on Lauren’s.
As a scientist she wanted to study the being, but as a wounded mother, in what should have been a terrifying situation, her instincts told her she should take her child and flee, but all fear seemed to escape her. A sense of contentment and calm filled every fiber of her being.
The three-fingered hand ran down her arm, and took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Lauren stilled when she realize the fingers had tiny suction cups that massaged her flesh as they probed. “Be of good heart, you are among friends,” the disembodied voice spoke.
“You can hear that, right?” Rowan asked. “You understand it?”
“Yes,” she said, as he took a step forward. She g
lanced at Rowan, gauging his reaction, not sure if he was ready to run or put up a fight; she suspected the latter. “They won’t harm us.”
“The curious one is correct,” the voice said softly.
Rowan took a step back. “Oh, that I understood.”
“Your languages have changed since we were last here,” it said. “It is hard to ... adapt.”
“Who are you?” Rowan asked, glancing back over at Kitty, who’d come to and rolled up onto her elbow, glancing up, studying the room. When she saw the entity, she gasped. Scrambling up against the wall, she cowered in horror as the scene unfolded around her.
“You might know our kind as Messengers ...” The voice answered.
“Angels?” Lauren’s brow furrowed, even as the pain in her side lifted.
“We have been called that.”
“We?” Rowan asked. “Who’s this we?”
“We,” the voice began, but hesitated as the creature lay a hand on its own chest. “We are not like you. We are ... The Three.”
“Clearly,” Rowan clipped.
“There is a triality to our kind,” The Three said. “Your own people referred to us as Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Maiden. Mother. Crone.”
“The Trinity ...” Lauren gasped.
“But that is not wholly true.” The Three turned its attention to Michael for a moment as the throbbing tone that rose from the bed seemed to soften and increase in tempo. He turned back to Lauren, offering her a hand. “We are past, present, and future. We are space, time, and matter. We are the here, the now ... and the never.”
Lauren’s brow furrowed as she was lifted into a sitting position, the bed adjusting as she moved. She reached down and found the spot where her flesh had been damaged just moments before. There was nothing to suggest anything had ever been amiss. The hole in her t-shirt and the blood on her clothes and skin were the only evidence that she’d been injured. Even the throbbing in her head seemed to abate.
The table lowered and her feet found the floor. She was standing without knowing how she’d come to do so, as she gazed down at the curious creature who still held her hand. “He will be restored,” The Three said with a nod to Michael. “But it will take more time. His broken ... his injury is more severe.”
Lauren felt at ease, as she extracted her hand and turned to Rowan, who put a protective arm around her. “We ...” she hesitated. “I have so many questions ...”
“As we are sure you would, curious one,” The Three said. “But we have many thanks to bestow upon you. Answers are among the many gifts you will receive ... when the time is right.”
Lauren realized Kitty had found her feet and had come to stand at her elbow. She attempted some kind of a polite bow, a bob of the head and perhaps even the bend of a knee. “I bring you greetings from the United Nations of the Planet Earth.” Clearly she’d recovered from her shock and found her courage.
The creature lifted its hand and placed it on her head. When it withdrew, the goose egg on her forehead was gone. Then it dismissed her with a wave of the same hand. “We recognize your governments, but doubt you speak for all those who dwell below.”
“Dwell ... below?” Rowan puzzled.
Lauren paused, trying to find her place in three dimensions. She tried to sense where she was at the moment, but knew she could not, because she was not on Earth. This was a vessel of some sort, but what kind or where it was, was outside of her grasp of cognition.
“When he is mended, we will explain all,” the being turned, and waved a hand for them to follow. The unseen door opened, and the creature passed through it. “We have chosen our own champion, one who will speak for us.”
Lauren took a tentative step, but hesitated, caught by Rowan’s hand on her arm. “Do you think it’s wise to trust ... I don’t know what to call it?”
“We have nothing else to go on but trust,” Lauren said, and turned to follow. Rowan hesitated a moment, glancing at Kitty, who stood fast. He muttered something under his breath about what Lauren had gotten them into this time, but he fell in behind her. When Kitty realized they were leaving her alone, she followed too.
Chapter 17
The vessel, or whatever this place was, was nothing like the Starship Enterprise, which was what Lauren had always expected a spaceship would be. Yet, in some ways, it was. The room was pristine, the seamless and rounded walls, as well as the floor seemed to glow blue-white; illuminating the room softly. A table lifted from the floor as they entered. Other furnishings, including chairs appeared as well, and something akin to a sofa or chaise.
“You will rest here,” The Three said. “Be ... comforted. We will return when the other is mended.” It turned and left them; the door whooshed shut behind it.
“Please tell me I’m hallucinating,” Kitty said, holding her head in her hands. “I know I hit my head in the scuffle. My head should be hurting, but ... it isn’t. Please tell me I have a concussion and I’m lying unconscious on the floor in Michael’s office.” She took a few steps over to the chaise and collapsed onto it.
“If you’re hallucinating about being on an alien spaceship, then I have a concussion, too.” Rowan’s hand went to the spot on his jaw where the Estonian thug had punched him. The being hadn’t offered him healing; perhaps he didn’t need it. To be sure, he ran his tongue along the line of his teeth to check if any were loose or broken before he sank into one of the chairs at the table. It seemed to mold to his tall frame as he relaxed.
“I can’t tell where we are,” Lauren admitted. “My ... bump of direction ... my spatial orientation ... it’s completely off-kilter.” She sat, too. Henry snuggled up against her, seemingly content as he rested his head on her chest and babbled happily to himself.
Rowan reached for her hand. “Are you okay?”
She leaned back and lifted her shirt, showing him the lack of any injury. “Apparently, I’m fully healed.”
“I was terrified,” Rowan confessed, inspecting Henry. He turned to his dad and held out his arms. Rowan took him and continued his assessment, finding nothing amiss.
“You and me both,” she said. “What happened to the KGB guy?”
Kitty sat up. “I clobbered him with the fire extinguisher,” she said. “I hope I broke his freakin’ neck.”
“What about Lubanzi and India?” Rowan asked. Lauren just shook her head, conveying her certain fear that neither appeared to have survived the attack. “Dammit.”
There was a long awkward pause as each of them processed what had just happened.
“Are we actually on an alien spaceship? Like ... in outer space?” Kitty asked.
“I have no evidence of that,” Lauren said. “But neither do I have evidence to the contrary.”
“Is this the first contact our government has been planning for?” Rowan asked.
Kitty’s expression darkened. “It’s not anything like what we anticipated,” she said. “But I know what my orders are, and given time, I’ll begin a dialogue, find some common ground, start working towards the yes we need to move forward.”
“The yes?” Lauren asked.
“The ultimate goal of any diplomatic process is to obtain an initial yes through finding a common perspective on an issue, and to develop an appreciation of the culture and interests of the foreign diplomat.” Kitty stood and peeled off her suit jacket. “A yes, in this case, is an agreement that we are not enemies, but rather allies. That we can aid one another in some capacity. We can begin by coming to a mutually beneficial accord.”
“So you’re mission is to establish a treaty with an alien race?” Rowan asked.
“An accord, by definition, is a voluntary agreement that entities enter into first while they try to work out terms of a treaty. Accords are just one of the many forms of the diplomatic process, along with alliances, conventions, and treaties. NATO was technically formed as an Alliance. You’re probably familiar with the Geneva Convention?”
“Yes,” Rowan said.
“The Revolutionary War e
nded with the Treaty of Paris in 1783. That’s the highest level of diplomatic agreement in the hierarchy of diplomatic tools.”
“That’s assuming they’re willing to negotiate.” Rowan stood, patting Henry, and walking the floor behind the table.
“Or that there’s anything we can offer that they can’t just take by force,” Lauren said.
“I suspect they need us for something ... or we wouldn’t be here,” Kitty said.
Rowan paced, lulling Henry into a light slumber as the hours passed. Lauren alternated between sitting and standing, pacing some herself. Kitty sat, silent, sullen.
* * *
Lauren turned when a whooshing sound broke the weary silence. The door opened. Michael staggered in leaning heavily on the wall. He took two steps in and stumbled. Lauren and Rowan both jumped to catch him, but Lauren got to him first and his momentum took her down with him. “What are you doing out of bed?” she asked. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be up.” Rowan, still with his child in his arms, helped Lauren out from under him. He handed Henry back to his mother. Michael might have been taller than Rowan, but he was lean and rail thin. Rowan got his injured brother-in-law up and helped him over to the chaise Kitty vacated, getting him settled.
“I’m okay,” Michael insisted as Lauren came over and sat down on the edge of the chair beside him. “I’m okay.”
“But ... you were ... dead,” Lauren said. Henry reached for his uncle, but Lauren held him back.
“Well I’m not dead now,” Michael grunted, laying back, wincing, and clutching his stomach. “Though I’m not sure which is better, at the moment.”
Rowan peeled back his shirt, finding a mending wound just below his ribs. “What the hell?” he muttered. Lauren leaned over, inspecting her brother.
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