by Bianca D’Arc
Bill gave Gina a narrow-eyed look. “How much have you told him about the Zxerah?”
“Quite a bit, but not that. It is your secret to share or not, as you see fit. I assume your companions already know?” Gina glanced around the room at the others. Jim didn’t like being left in the dark, but he’d play it cool for now. It sounded like he was about to learn something.
Bill gave a most un-Alvian sigh. The guy freaked Jim out a little. He just wasn’t used to seeing Alvians displaying human emotions.
“I’ve got wings.”
“Come again?” Jim didn’t know what he’d expected, but this stark declaration shocked him.
“Wings. I can fly. Like your mythological angels. If the Council has heard rumors, I guess I haven’t been as circumspect as I thought when flying out over the forests.”
“Hell, it’s not your fault, Bill. There are mountain men and hidden villages all over this area,” Mike said in what sounded like an old argument. “Humans around here have gotten good at hiding their presence from aerial view. The Alvian patrols usually come by aircraft, so they keep an eye to the sky. I’d have been surprised if nobody saw you.”
“With our culture’s religious beliefs, we figured it couldn’t hurt anything if a couple of humans saw you flying around. If anything,” Dave stressed, “we thought it might give people hope. An angel is a powerful symbol in most human religions.”
“I am nobody’s deity.”
The true anger and frustration Jim heard in the Alvian’s musical voice gave him pause. He had to keep reminding himself that this guy was different from the other Alvians he’d seen—very different if he really did have wings—but that was something Jim would really have to see to believe. And so would a lot of people he knew. Jim made a decision.
“I think you should come back to Colorado with us, Bill. Just for a visit. And I’ll guarantee your safety. But there’s one foreseer in particular who needs to see you—if you’re willing. She’s been talking about angels for as long as I’ve known her and when she first saw Gina here, she swore up and down that Gina would be the one to bring the angels to us. Nobody knew what she meant and we all figured she was half-insane from the loss of her family, but if you really do have wings, I think you’re the answer to the puzzle. It would be a kindness if you’d let her see you—even if she’s the only one you show. Tory is special, and she needs hope. I think you can give it to her.”
Jim noticed David’s eyes narrowing in thought as he’d started to talk about Tory. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves a bit, but if Bill goes back with you, I’ll go too. It sounds like your seer could use my help.”
Jim felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “I’ve protected her as best I can but what she really needs is a mind healer, and we don’t have one. I’d be much obliged if you’d take a look at her and see what you can do.”
David nodded. “Let’s table this discussion for the time being. It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired from your long journey. Bill, do you want to show them to the guest quarters? Fair warning, you’ll be locked in and Burt will be monitoring you, but he won’t report back to us unless you try to sneak out.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Jim allowed. “We’re the strangers here. We’ll abide by your rules.”
“All right then.” David stood, and the others followed his lead. “Bill will show you around a bit on your way to your quarters, and we’ll arrange for some food to be brought down to you. We’ll reconvene in the morning, once we’ve all had a chance to think this over.”
Jim was glad of the way David took the lead, though he sounded more like a chairman of the board than a general commanding his troops. Whatever his past life had been, he’d come out on top. He had a wife, a solid place to live and what promised to be a thriving community here. He was luckier than most.
The others said good night and left Gina and Jim with Bill. He led them up a flight of stairs and down a hallway to a large open area that looked a lot like the hydroponics section of the Colorado installation. This one wasn’t completely filled, however. It had the look of something just starting up. There were a few people working at the far end of the large expanse, and Jim was pleased to note they all looked human.
Bill started muttering when he saw them and shook his head. “Please stay here for a moment, I need to get the crew back on track or we won’t have much of a harvest.”
Jim expected him to walk the long distance between where they were and the crew’s position at the far end of a cavern the size of a football field, but he was wrong. Instead, shockingly, Bill shrugged off his jacket and huge golden wings expanded on either side of his torso. The man lifted off the ground with a few beats of those magnificent feathered wings and crossed the vast distance of the cavern in just a few seconds.
“Holy shit.”
Gina laughed at his reaction.
“You knew, didn’t you?” He turned to face her as Bill landed and started talking with the group of people at the far end of the cavern.
Gina’s expression was grave. “I knew. I’ve known his kind for a long time. They are part of my clan.”
“How many?” Jim’s thoughts sped ahead to the implications of having large numbers of winged beings roaming around the Earth. “How many more like him are out there?”
“I don’t know the exact numbers, but at least a battalion was created. They’re genetic experiments. They had another alien race’s DNA spliced into their own chromosomes in order to give them wings.”
“Another alien race? Do we have to fear another invasion somewhere down the line?”
“I don’t think so. From what I’ve heard, the Avarel stopped visiting Alvia Prime and all the Alvian colonies—except perhaps the Zxerah enclave—a very long time ago. I have a feeling they might already have visited Earth in the distant past. Otherwise why do most religious traditions talk about men with wings? By all accounts, the Avarel were a peaceful people. They exchanged knowledge with the Zxerah, and it was they who first warned that selective breeding to eliminate aggression in the Alvian populace could lead to disaster. When the Alvian government refused to listen, the Avarel broke diplomatic ties and were never seen again.”
The Patriarch approached Grady Prime at the hidden base of the winged brethren. The encounter seemed to be purely accidental, but Grady had his suspicions. The Zxerah leader seldom let coincidences rule his life. No, this was a man who made his own fate and decided the fate of many others on a routine basis.
“How goes your search, Grady?” the Patriarch asked. Grady Prime thought it significant that the Patriarch often fell into the speech patterns of the humans, leaving off the rank designation of other Alvians with whom he spoke.
Now that he had emotions and a better understanding of humanity, Grady Prime often thought the use of full names to be stiff and formal—much like the majority of his race and their habits. Formality seemed to go hand in hand with Alvian culture and it chafed Grady Prime’s new perceptions at times.
He wasn’t quite ready to let go of his past. He still thought of himself as Grady Prime. Perhaps one day things would change for him, but that day had not yet come.
“I have learned much about the former Sinclair Prime and have formulated a theory as to where he would have gone.”
“Truly? What is your theory, if I may ask?”
“From all accounts, he is a lover of woodlands and temperate zones. I surmise that if he was able to depart the southern continent, the forests in the northern section of this continent would be much to his liking. Of course, there are some areas on the southern continent that would be just as agreeable, but they are even more remote and harder to get to. His last mission was in the southern continent, so it would be logical to start my search there.”
“Logical, yes. But what does your gut instinct tell you?”
Grady’s answer came quickly and unequivocally. “He’s not there.”
The Patriarch seemed surprised…and pleased? “Have you always had such stro
ng instincts? Or is this a new development since taking the experimental treatment?”
That was a question Grady Prime hadn’t expected from this man, even though he’d been asking himself similar things for many weeks. He was intrigued enough to engage on a more detailed level with the Patriarch than he had ever revealed to the techs.
“I always had inexplicable instincts, but they have sharpened and evolved since the treatment. I have no real reason to explain my certainty that Sinclair Prime Past is no longer on the southern continent, but it is a certainty in my mind.”
“Fascinating. And enlightening. I thank you for your candor, my friend, and in return I will tell you this. Seek him in the high places. Seek him near your friends of old. Seek him among the natives, fulfilling his lifelong role as warrior and protector.”
“Then you know where he is?”
The Patriarch paused, watching him with those uncanny eyes. A slight nod was all the confirmation he gave, but it was enough.
“When you find him, you will also find your heart.”
“What?” The words shocked him, their meaning ambiguous, yet striking to the heart of him—the place that yearned for understanding, for acceptance, for love.
“So I was told by the strongest of the foreseers in my clan. I know not what it means, but thought you deserved to know what had been said. I wish you clear skies and fair weather on your journey. If I am not mistaken it will take you far both physically and spiritually.”
“I thought our race no longer believed in the spirit.” Grady Prime couldn’t help challenging the Patriarch’s strange words.
“Perhaps not, but the Zxerah have never given up all that we were and all that we can become. The humans in my clan have taught me much and renewed my faith in the teachings of our ancestors. By the First Crystal and all that came after, my spirit—blindfolded and gagged by my own lack of emotion—still wants to break free. I have made it my mission in life to help it do so for myself and for all other Alvians.”
“That is a dangerous task, and one I’m not sure we’re ready for.”
“Ready or not, it is a step we must take. To stay as we are is to die—to kill all that we are and could be. And humanity cannot wait any longer for us to realize the error of our ways. Killing ourselves is one thing, but we can no longer destroy them with impunity. We’ve made a mess of this world. It is our duty to all sentient beings—to all life in the universe—to the spirit itself—to fix it.”
Grady Prime was humbled by the Patriarch’s words and his goals. Such matters were things he had thought of in the abstract but never dared believe he could change on his own. That the Zxerah Patriarch contemplated life on such a grand scale should not have been surprising but the idea that he could, and would, act to change the very nature of all Alvian existence on this planet was daunting to say the least. Grady Prime wasn’t sure it was even possible, but the more he thought about it the more he realized he had to help in whatever small way he could.
“I admire your goals, Patriarch. I don’t know what a simple soldier like me can do to aid them, but aid you I will, should you need my assistance.”
The Patriarch seemed surprised by Grady Prime’s declaration of support but also pleased in his calm, Alvian way.
“Thank you, Grady. I will remember your words and hope you will as well. There are many obstacles and tests in your path. I don’t need the gift of prophecy to be able to see that. I wish you well on your journey. Be strong of heart and have faith in the rightness of your quest. And know that by the time you leave here, your craft will have been made completely untraceable.”
“By anyone but the Zxerah, I presume,” Grady challenged with a friendly grin.
The Patriarch gave him a wicked smile and left without further words, disappearing in a moment as was the way of the Zxerah. His words of what his people had foreseen stayed with Grady Prime however, haunting him deep into the night and all the next day as he planned the next part of his mission.
Grady Prime knew exactly where he was going. He’d been there before when he tracked a runaway Alvian lab tech named Jaci 192. He’d found her frolicking in a pool with her two human Resonance Mates, laughing and displaying emotion he couldn’t understand at the time.
He thought he knew better now and wanted an experience like that for himself. He wanted a woman who could care for him as Jaci cared for her two mates, Michael and David.
Grady Prime didn’t know why he was so sure he’d find Prime Past hiding out with the natives in that old bunker he’d found, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew he needed to check it out.
Sinclair Prime saw him off when he decided to go and they parted as warriors…and as friends.
“Tell him I miss his counsel,” Sinclair Prime said when Grady was about ready to close the hatch.
“You’re that sure I’ll find him?”
“I know your skill. If he’s to be found, you’ll do it. Besides, I know you’re on the right track.”
Immediately he grew suspicious. “You sent scouts ahead, didn’t you? That’s how the Patriarch knew to nudge me in the right direction.”
“You’ll learn the Patriarch seldom leaves anything to chance, my friend.” Sinclair Prime shook his hand in the way of warriors. Grady Prime returned the sign of respect. “Your mission is important to us all. Fare well on your journey. Clear skies and gentle winds, brother.”
Grady Prime was touched by his words and the appellation. Still, he felt some chagrin to realize his mission had been completed already by one of the winged scouts. No doubt they’d already tagged and perhaps spoken with Prime Past. The other warrior would know Grady Prime was coming, and he’d be prepared. They’d just made his quest either impossible or all too easy. He didn’t like the idea of either alternative, but the seer’s words that replayed constantly in his mind kept him on his path. He’d go, if for no other reason than to meet his destiny, whatever that may be.
Grady Prime landed his craft in a copse of trees just shy of the entrance to the subterranean complex he’d found before. He hid the ship under a layer of fallen pine boughs and leaves, camouflaging it from casual discovery before he set out on foot.
The trek was as he remembered, with the bite of refreshingly chill mountain air on his face. He loved this country. The terrain was challenging enough to keep him entertained, and the weather was cool and mild at this time of year. The scenery was breathtaking.
He topped a ridge and looked around, in awe of the wonder of nature. Even Alvia Prime hadn’t been able to match this new planet for the sheer vastness of its open spaces and the majesty of its vistas. Then again, Alvia Prime had many more people living on its surface before it was destroyed. Now all those souls were scattered across the galaxy, trying to colonize a handful of worlds that were capable of supporting their unique needs.
When he felt the first of the sensors, Grady Prime made the conscious decision not to hide his approach. Coming in openly was a risk, but a calculated one. Prime Past already knew someone was on the way due to the Patriarch’s interference so the element of surprise was out. Grady Prime also had a history with the people he’d last seen living in the belowground complex. If they were still there—and he thought it likely they were—he’d gain more by approaching openly than by trying to sneak up on them.
Decision made, Grady Prime sought out the sensors. He deliberately tripped the heat and motion detectors, then smiled and waved to the miniscule cameras. If anyone was monitoring the system, they had to know by now that he was on his way to pay a call.
He liked the challenge of finding all the well-camouflaged sensors and cameras. The game was afoot as the human detective Sherlock Holmes would say. He’d enjoyed reading the adventures of the mythical sleuth when Mick O’Hara loaned him the books. Now that he had emotions, he found true joy in testing his tracking skills, and in the game itself. If his grin for the cameras was a little wider than a normal Alvian’s, well, that couldn’t be helped. He was having fun. Fun! It
was a new and thrilling concept.
Grady Prime got about ten yards from the hidden cave entrance before the greeting party made itself known.
“You have a hell of a nerve showing up here again, Grady.” Michael, one of the human mates of Jaci 192, stepped out from behind a boulder, a weapon pointed at Grady Prime’s heart.
“I gave you enough warning. I wasn’t trying to sneak in. Thanks for coming to meet me.”
“This isn’t a welcoming party. This is a get off our land and don’t come back meeting.” Jaci’s other mate, David, moved in from the side, flanking him. Grady Prime held his hands up, palms outward in a show of peace.
“I need to talk to someone I think may be living with you.”
“Son of a bitch.” It was David that spoke, lowering his weapon slightly. “You can feel.”
Grady remembered this man had healing talent and some empathy. He was no doubt sensing Grady’s feelings of exhilaration, trepidation and sheer joy in the hunt.
“As your mate recommended, I took the treatment. Officially, I’m retired from active duty. Unofficially, I’ve been sent to find a former Prime I believe may be hiding out with you.”
“Don’t you mean you were sent to kill me?” A new voice spoke as the man in question strode boldly from the cave entrance.
Grady Prime was shocked to see how Prime Past had gone native. He dressed, walked and even sounded like a human. Even his pale blond looks no longer set him apart as Alvian. Long hair masked his pointed ears and his pale skin had started to tan with exposure to this planet’s yellow sun.
“I was,” Grady agreed easily, earning new vigilance from the two humans who raised their weapons once more. “But like you, I’ve got a mind of my own now. I came to talk to you, Sinclair Prime Past.”
“Call me Bill.”
Grady Prime shouldn’t have been surprised, he supposed, that the Council’s best assassin had reinvented himself. He was well trained to blend in to whatever came his way. He’d outdone himself in this case. Grady Prime wasn’t sure he would have recognized him had he run across him in the open.