“Wow, a meteor shower,” Bach said aloud.
“Take heed. A meteor shower,” the merchant replied.
“Take heed?”
The man looked at the sky. “Souls of the sinless returning to the Creator.”
“Souls of the sinless?” Bach mused out loud. “Who’s sinless?”
The merchant put his hands on his hips and stared at Bach. “Children.”
Bach nodded, but then he recalled something similar his mother used to say. “I’ve always heard that shooting stars were souls of the faithful returning to heaven.”
The little man’s faraway stare seemed unending.
Star softly said, “The hereafter awaits both children and the faithful.”
#
Bach and Star continued their search, but soon both grew weary. He sighed and led her toward the building with the staircase. “Let’s take a break.”
As they neared the stairs, she pulled him to a stop. “Do you feel that?” she asked.
“What?”
“Like something pulling you back?”
“No.”
She looked around for the source of the sensation and headed to a nearby display. Her eyes went straight to a translucent pink gemstone the size of a doorknob. Compelled to touch it, she lifted it gently, with cupped hands. “Warm, yet soft and fluid—like liquid velvet,” she commented.
“It senses emotion,” the vendor said. “You are troubled.”
“That’s right.” Star placed the stone back on the table. “We’re behind schedule.”
Bach nodded politely to the vendor, then took Star by the hand and pointed toward the staircase. “Let’s take that break.” He plopped on a step with a pathetic moan, jabbed his elbows on his knees, and held his head in his hands. “If we don’t find the symbol soon, I’m going back for that crystal ball. Maybe it’ll tell us where the chosen ones are.”
Star closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Maybe we should try our powers of concentration. Wouldn’t it be great if that worked for us as it does the residents?”
“Maybe we should drink a whole cup of sparkling water.”
She laughed. “So you want more kisses, huh?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. First kisses I’ve had in a long time, and my lips were numb.”
Her laugh stopped short. She stepped higher on the stairs to get a better look. Several yards down the sidewalk, two giddy little people danced and turned in circles, their golden tunics fanning out around them. The handsome man’s soft brown hair blew straight back, accentuating a broad smile on his face, and the beautiful woman’s long, dark hair spread two feet in all directions as she circled repeatedly, then stopped in dizzy delight. The two noticed Star watching. The lady waved, then pulled her mate toward the stairs. When they reached the Alphamates, the little lady’s feet never stopped moving from excitement and her brown eyes sparkled like her golden earrings. She shoved a hollowed-out obelisk, about six-inches long, into Star’s hand. “See here, see here. We’ve been working so hard. We’ve done it, we’ve done it.”
Star examined the tapered, four-sided crystal, then peered through it. “Amazing. I can see all the way to our ship. You’ve made a telescope. I can’t tell what magnification, but it’s exceptionally powerful for one so small.”
The lady beamed at her mate. “Obbo made it.”
He slid his arm around her waist. “Ivy helped.”
“Flawless craftsmanship.” Star scanned the crowd through the telescope. “I’d like to have one of these.” She passed it to Bach. “Do you have another?”
Obbo shook his head. “Made two, but only one works.” He rummaged around in his pocket. “But made something more, something better. Now look.” He poked a round object into Bach’s hand.
Bach put the object to his eye.
The little man snatched the object away and fastened it to end of the obelisk, then shoved it back to Bach and waited.
Bach peered through the telescope and turned in a full circle. “Wow. It’s a four-way viewer—objects displayed in four graduated sizes.” Then he realized the round end piece had two intersecting lines. The symbol. He placed his hand on Obbo’s shoulder. “Obbo. You and Ivy are the ones we’re looking for.”
Before Obbo answered, Ivy grabbed the obelisk and focused on something in the distance. A second later she cried out, “Oh see! Oh see! Bad winds coming.”
Obbo took the scope from Ivy and scanned the sky. “Bad winds coming. Hurry, hurry! Must be safe.”
“Bad winds?” asked Bach.
Obbo thrust the obelisk to Bach, who looked in the direction of the bad winds. To his horror, he learned that bad winds were a half-dozen rampaging tornadoes swirling toward them like rolling death.
The street vendors, forewarned by visions, scurried about packing up their wares. Bach had no need to relay the Creator’s mission to Ivy and Obbo—they understood. As the foursome pushed and shoved among panicked throngs, an eddy of icy air whirled dirt and debris down the street, wrapping the town in a veil of darkness. Parrots and other birds scattered in fear of the bitter winds. Two of the smaller parrots alighted on Ivy and Obbo.
Star held Ivy’s hand as they ran toward the Alpha. She noticed the birds and shouted through blasts of wind, “We still need animals.”
“Need animals?” Ivy asked.
“We need to bring animals from your planet.”
“Animals will be frightened, frightened. They know bad winds,” Ivy replied, trying to catch her breath.
Obbo tried to keep up. “They sense bad winds before we do,” he said, panting.
Howling gusts blew Bach’s words back into his mouth. “We’ll never round up frightened animals.”
“What?” Ivy yelled.
“Where-are-the-animals?” Bach asked.
“Hiding from bad winds. That way,” she yelled, pointing right.
The four made it to a crude outpost where birds and small, ground-dwelling animals had gathered in fear. Star, Ivy, and Obbo corralled the little animals and used Star’s fabric map as a sling to carry them. Bach emptied a water trough to carry the others. A variety of birds flew alongside as the four hurried to the ship.
*****
After securing the animals, Star rushed back to the main cabin, only to find Bach so preoccupied prepping for rapid ascent he’d forgotten to take Ivy and Obbo to their chamber. “Ready for liftoff,” he yelled.
Star buckled the short statured people beside Bach on the wraparound bench in the cockpit, and the big ship ascended into the darkened sky, leaving behind raging twisters on planet Gihon.
The little couple chattered and sobbed. “First our two daughters disappear, now our people and home planet suffer.”
“Your children disappeared?” Star asked.
“Disappeared without a word or sign. Disappeared,” Ivy replied.
Obbo added, “All children vanished. Gone. Can’t explain it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Star said. “Something’s going on. Children are also missing from planet En Gedi. I’ll investigate as soon as we get back to Dura.” She wrote in a logbook.
Once the ship was safely airborne, Star unharnessed the little pair and helped them from the bench. “We have accommodations for you in our E-module. I’ll take you there.”
“Where are we headed?” Obbo asked.
Star pulled up the flight plan on the monitor while Obbo peeked over her shoulder. Before she could answer, he warned, “Don’t go now to planet Troas.”
“Troas is next on the chart, it’s closest,” she said.
“Don’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Time to save, leads to the grave. Go to Colosse.”
Ivy stepped to Obbo’s side. “Danger in the sky, do not fly, to Troas,” she warned.
“Do you mean the Rooks?” asked Star.
“Only can feel … many wings, many wings.” Ivy flapped her arms like wings.
Bach pondered Ivy’s comment. “Many wings? But, rerouting to Colos
se will add to our time. It’s eighth on our original plan. How will wings harm us, Ivy?”
“Too many wings will never fly again,” said the tiny visionary.
Star looked at Bach. “We’d better go to Colosse … adjust the route sequence later. I trust Ivy’s and Obbo’s gifts of foresight.”
“I’ve got a feeling the Rooks are involved. Trying to foil our plans,” he said.
She nodded. “They know an airborne takeover is futile. They may have gone ahead to create problems.”
Obbo looked around and walked aft. “Will we sleep on this ship?”
“You’ll be aboard for a few days, comfortable and safe in the E-module.” Star led the little couple through the passageway.
Once inside their chamber, Ivy’s excitement overflowed at seeing the shrubbery and surroundings. “This simulates our home planet.”
“Feel free to explore and socialize with the others we’ll be picking up,” Star said. “If an alert sounds, watch the readouts on your chamber’s monitor for information from the flight deck. If you’re in the module’s communal area when an alarm sounds, return to your chamber. During takeoff and landing, or if we enter a dangerous situation, notification is instantaneous. Secure yourselves in your environment until further notice. The passageway door between the ships locks automatically.”
“What about the animals?” Obbo asked.
“Their module has gravity variance to compensate for sudden thrust.”
He questioned her further. “Can we come out later and spend time with you?”
“When Alpha’s airborne and your monitor is clear, you’re welcome to come to the flight deck operations area.”
“I’ll come there with Ivy. I want to see how this big ship operates,” he said.
Ivy smiled. “He loves instruments and mechanical things.” She patted Star’s arm. “And you don’t have to explain why we can’t leave the ship when we get to the other planets. We understand. You have a short time to search, and lots of territory.”
Star nodded. “That’s right.”
*****
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Star opened the journal to the bookmark and read, “‘Intersecting paths of the daystars create a wide range of temperatures on Colosse. At times, it’s the brightest of all the planets. Colosse supplies grain and seafood to the co-op effort. Enemy manipulation ruined the more delicate crops, resulting in seafood as the staple.’”
Passing through sky the color of molten orange, Bach measured ground temperature minutes before touchdown. “We get the hot weather,” he said. At landing, he put protective eye drops in his and Star’s eyes to counteract the bright environment. When they stepped out, a dry, hot breeze greeted them. Bach grimaced and said, “Like facing a giant hair dryer.” He looked ahead with dread at the densely populated area. “A big place to search.”
They’d walked a short way to the city limits and found three roads leading through the business and residential areas when Bach saw something else of interest. He pointed to a fenced area on the right. “There’s a wildlife sanctuary over there. Let’s check it out.”
A sign on the gate read “All species on exhibit,” and listed the animal’s zoological names.
Star smiled with relief. “All species? We can get our animals here.”
His face lit up for a moment, then he grumbled, “Seems too easy.”
A clickity-clack sound at their backs grew steadily louder and they both turned around. A young, black-haired man with narrow eyes approached pulling a rickshaw. He stopped, nodded, and motioned for them to get in.
Bach helped Star into the carriage.
The rickshaw runner’s route wound along a curved seawall where dozens of old fishermen, who looked like they hadn’t moved from their prime spots in years, stood shoulder to shoulder along the wharf. Tanned and weathered, the anglers reeled in flipping catches from the salty water and tossed them into large baskets and barrels along the walkway.
The runner stopped on the main road and helped Star from the rickshaw. After Bach stepped out, the man bowed and trotted off into the crowd.
On busy Main Street, scores of noisy residents socialized, ate, and shopped for handcrafted jewelry, electronic gadgetry, and colorful clothing. Open-air fronts on several stores and a dozen portable kiosks in the middle of the road enticed passersby. Off to one side, people gathered around benches and tables in a grassy park, telling stories and participating in games while a band played and performers entertained on a stage.
Pungent aromas of seared meats and spicy seasonings, complemented by the sweet smells of honey and cinnamon, wafted through the air. Bach walked to a food concession and checked out the fare. After a deep, pleasurable breath, he smiled at Star with big eyes. “I’m hungry. How about we eat something good while we have a chance.”
She nodded. “I’m hungry too.”
Mouths watering, they headed to the kiosk with the shortest line and, while waiting their turn, watched the perspiring, dark-haired vendor as he hovered over red-hot cookware with knife blades flashing. The man had no time to look up, yet managed to joke with his waiting customers.
They’d almost reached the counter when Star’s anticipation went flat. She pulled Bach aside. “How will we pay?”
“Oh, no. Didn’t think about that.”
“Maybe he’ll barter.”
“For what?”
She patted Bach’s chest pocket where he’d put the storyteller doll.
The vendor glanced up as Bach pulled the doll from his pocket. The man watched as if he couldn’t take his eyes off the toy. He mopped his greasy hands on his food-stained apron and came from behind the booth to touch the doll.
“Can we trade this for food?” Bach asked.
“Yes!” the vendor answered. “I’ll give you all you like.” He pushed trays into their hands and piled steaming rice, seafood, and orange-flavored rolls onto wooden plates.
The ravenous two balanced their trays while the merchant filled two mugs to overflowing with a frothy amber liquid. Anxious to calm their growling stomachs, they hurried through the crowd to a bench facing a row of storefronts. Bach balanced his tray on his lap and rubbed his hands together with a wily grin. “The heck with etiquette.” He stuffed a jumbo shrimp and half a roll into his mouth. “Good stuff,” he mumbled, spewing crumbs as he spoke.
Star smiled at his antics.
Bach wrapped both hands around the big mug and took a couple of swigs of the foamy brew. He popped his tongue off the roof of his mouth. “Ahhh.” His nostrils flared. “Tastes like beer.”
“It’s philo. Made from grains.”
“Beer!” he said, chuckling.
A female street mime dressed in a black and white bodysuit sashayed to the bench and took a long sidestep in front of them. Three painted black tears fell from each eye onto her chalk-white face. The mime looked first at Star, then at Bach. She stuck her fists into her pockets and dramatically withdrew her left hand, opening it slowly. Empty. She withdrew her right hand and presented three gold coins in her outstretched palm. Bach reached out. “Am I supposed to take the coins?”
The mime looked at him with a disconnected stare and fisted her hand. Then she unfolded her fingers one-by-one to display her empty palm. She shrugged and strolled away to Bach and Star’s applause.
Bach slugged down more philo and leaned back on the bench with eyes closed to savor the cool tingle. Then he jumped up all at once, pointing with hands flailing. “Star, those coins … that mime’s coins had symbols on them.”
She looked at him strangely. “I didn’t see symbols.”
He looked around impatiently, took the food tray from her lap and set it aside, then pulled her from the bench by the hand. “Hurry. Where’d she go?”
“I didn’t see anything on the coins. Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes. When I watched her perform they didn’t register. But now I know I saw them.”
Star pointed toward the crowded street. “She went tha
t way.”
They left their food on the bench and searched through a mass of faces, colors, and sounds on Main Street. But the mime was nowhere to be found.
“This can’t be happening. They can’t make themselves disappear,” he complained.
“Maybe she went down by the seawall.”
The two searched both sides of the wharf’s cobblestone street, and the alleyways, rest areas, and bait stands. Star caught up with Bach, who had moved ahead. “I’m going to ask someone,” she said. “This is a big area. The mime might have a performance schedule.” She approached a dozen men fishing shoulder-to-shoulder on the dock. One man, his face tanned and wrinkled like a Shar Pei dog’s, turned to look at her. She moved to his side. “Will you help us? We’re looking for a mime we saw on the street. Does she perform on a schedule?”
The man’s slanted brown eyes narrowed. “Mimes disappear. It’s part of their act. No one controls a mime.”
Bach yelped from behind Star, “Their act? You mean there’s more than one?”
“Certainly there’s more than one.”
“And you’re saying we have to wait until they feel like showing up again?”
“No one controls a mime,” said the man. He turned back and focused on his fishing rod.
Star pushed Bach along. “Keep looking.”
“This is making me mad,” he said with a snort. “What if we have to wait another day for her to reappear?”
“If we go back to where we were, maybe she’ll come again, or if another mime performs we can check her coins.”
They wove through the crowd and neared where they’d left their food when Bach spotted a mime behind a nearby vendor’s booth. “Look! Maybe that’s her.” He rushed to the mine, clenching and opening his hands as if performing the coin trick. “Are you the one who did that excellent coin trick for us—the one with the three coins? Please … do it again.”
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