The Arwen Book two: Manifest Destiny

by Timothy P. Callahan

  Professor Ricter wiggled his foot, trying to shake her hand off it. She looked at him while he looked back. She pointed to the Handler and he nodded, hopefully in understanding.

  Behind her she heard another Handler fall to the ground. The Handlers was close. She gasped, letting the air out of her lungs. The mist in front of her wavered and cleared for a moment. She looked back, unable to see the Handler that was on her side. She grabbed the Professor’s foot again and just as she did, a Handler landed between her and the Professor.

  She stood quickly and jumped over it. The Professor stood as well and the two ran to the door, the Handlers behind them went crazy with scent’s and foot pounding. Juliet made it to the door first and kicked it out with her foot. “Go!” She yelled at the Professor and he crawled through.

  She looked back to see all the Handlers had fallen to the floor and were pounding their feet loudly. It was deafening. Juliet did her best not to panic, but she really wished the Professor would move faster as he wormed his way through the door.

  When she saw his feet disappear she bent down and crawled through, the Hander’s continued their pounding. She placed the door back hoping it would deaden the sound. It did, but only slightly.

  Professor Ricter grabbed her hand and pulled her, encouraging her to run. “We need to get back,” he said. “Their actions indicate they weren't warriors but their pounding is probably an alert, our equivalent of screaming for help.”

  “Then let’s go!” Juliet yelled.

  They ran as fast as they could toward the wormhole. That was home. That was safety. They could go to the Arwen with the information they had and let them decide what to do, let them figure out the next step.

  There was no sign of pursuit yet they ran fast. Juliet took a quick glance behind her and saw nothing but the dust from their feet. She slowed down and grabbed the Professor’s arm to slow him down. He was breathing heavy, his face red with strain. “I don’t run that much.”

  “I don’t think we have to. It looks like we’re clear.”

  “They might not have as much security here. I guess they never figured they would be bothered. Still, I think we should get back as quickly as we can.”

  “No arguments, let’s go.”

  The Professor was panting heavily trying to catch his breath. He rubbed his chest as if massaging his lungs would make them work any better. “I think we should get you on some sort of exercise program.”

  “Yes, indeed, we should when we get back and I have time. I’ll be fine. It's been a long time since I had to run.”

  They rounded the corner and found the door they first exited still open. Juliet bent down first and peaked in. She slowly crawled on the ground and looked around. It seemed all clear and she moved through. “Don’t come until I tell you.”

  “Please hurry,” he replied. “I’m not feeling very well. That run took a lot out of me.”

  That worried her. She did a quick sweep of the room and found it exactly as they had left it. “Okay, come on.”

  Professor Ricter crawled through the hole and stood. His face had taken on a different color, it looked pale and he actually seemed to be sweating more than he did after he stopped running. “Are you okay?”

  He shook his head. “No, my dear. I am not. I believe we had better hurry back to the Arwen.”

  She grabbed his hand and the two stepped through the silver sphere. The trip back seemed to take longer than the first time, and Juliet felt a different kind of sensation. She was nauseous.

  When they stepped out she hunched over and tried her best not to throw up.

  The Professor stumbled forward trying to catch his balance. He looked around, then placed his hand on Juliet’s shoulder. “Does this place look familiar?”

  Juliet looked up and did not like what she saw. The room was different. In front of her was an old star, barely producing enough light to brighten the room. She walked up to the window and looked out. They were still on a Dyson Sphere, but she knew it wasn’t the same one they had left. The panels were black and she saw a ring of dust orbiting the dead sun.

  “What do we do now?” She asked.

  “We keep trying.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the wormhole again.

  The journey was longer than the other two combined. Juliet had to keep her eyes and mouth closed. She didn’t want to breathe because she wasn’t sure if there was anything other than the strange silver space of Wormhole Beta. For the first time she could feel it passing over her skin. It felt as if she were moving through a fluid more viscous than water.

  Finally, when it felt as if she couldn’t hold her breath for one more second, she fell out and onto the floor. This time she did vomit. “Professor, that was horrible.”

  She got no answer and looked up. The Professor was nowhere to be found. When did she lose him? Not knowing what else to do she ran toward the wormhole ready to leap back into it. She was in mid air when a wall fell in front of her, blocking her from the wormhole. “No!” She yelled punching the wall with a tight fist. “No, no, no, no!”

  She looked around, hoping to find some sort of control panel but found nothing. The room was empty. There wasn’t even a window could look out. She was alone and trapped. They had captured her. She was a prisoner of war now and would never see her home world ever again.

  Chapter twenty-one

  “Why did you take me here?” Marjorie asked.

  “We didn’t take you anywhere,” her handler replied. “You’re in control, I’m only along to observe.”

  It was a strange sensation Marjorie felt as she looked down at her six-year-old self. It was like a dream where you could see yourself in the dream yet also felt the emotion that your dream self was feeling.

  Six-year-old Marjorie Sanders, it would become Marjorie Cook in about fifteen years, held her father’s hand. She felt safe holding that hand. She remembered that hand guiding her across crowded streets, helping her out of anything she had fallen into while playing in the woods near her Pennsylvania home.

  Her father, she thought about him at least one a day but never thought she’d get a chance to see him again. The memory of what he looked like hadn’t faded, it never could, even though he died before he had a chance to see what she would become. He was tall with prematurely graying hair. His face was youthful in this memory, his eyes clear and filled with intelligence. He wore a pair of glasses because any treatment he took to make his eyes better always seemed to fail, after a while he simply refused anymore treatments and the glasses worked perfectly fine for him. After all the pain he went through trying to get his eyes fixed he stopped trusting doctors. That’s what killed him and that’s what made life with him so difficult.

  This memory was one she thought about often, the first time she saw a starship in person. The first time she knew exactly what she wanted to be.

  “What is this place?” Her Handler asked.

  “Clarke station, a museum in orbit around Earth. I kept begging him to take me here for my birthday.”

  Her dad looked down at the young Marjorie telling her to be careful as they stepped off the shuttle. The gravity of Clarke station caused her to stumble. She had never experienced artificial gravity and feeling it for the first time took almost everyone by surprise. It just didn’t feel right at first, but you quickly got used to it.

  Her dad was an engineer and was used to traveling into space. “He helped build the first rail gun on the moon,” Marjorie said. “Well, he helped design it.”

  The suited Handler nodded and continued to watch the events play out in front of him.

  They walked down the hallways. He would stop at every plaque to read it. Most were too high for young Marjorie to see so she simply watched the people walk by. “Clarke station was only partially demilitarized. They still shuttled people who had lived off planet, like the moon or Mars, to Earth. They would have to stay on the station until they were strong enough for Earth’s gravity.”

  “We still have that prob
lem too, and our solution is pretty much the same.”

  Marjorie didn’t say anything, nodding only, storing any information she was given into her mind. You never know when you’ll need it.

  “Dad, I want to see the space ships.” Little Marjorie said.

  Her dad adjusted his glasses, finished reading, then looked down and said in a quiet, calm voice. “Now honey, we can’t just go skip to the end can we?”

  “No,” she replied with some hostility. “But can you at least read to me?”

  “Sure, I’m sorry.” He bent down and picked her up. His arms were strong and secure. “Can you see now?”

  “Yes, I can read it now. Thank you.”

  Older Marjorie walked over to the plaque but found she couldn’t read it. It was blank. “I guess I can’t remember everything.”

  Marjorie and her handler followed them down the hallway, stopping every few feet to read something else. “After this we watched a movie on the history of space flight, and then we ate lunch. It seemed like we were there forever before we saw the ship.” She turned to face him. “I can control this, is that what you said?”

  “Yes, you have control here, we are simply observing you.”

  The scene faded and Marjorie found herself at the observation deck; her little face pressed against the shielded window looking out into space. Ships of all shapes and sizes were attached to the station. It seemed like thousands upon thousands of ship were there but in actuality it was only a dozen. Those ships were the most beautiful things Marjorie had ever seen. She had seen pictures of them and thought they were neat but seeing them with the backdrop of space, with some real depth to their structure, it was too much for her little mind to absorb. She tried to see every line, every window and every light. She tried to memorize the names of the ships.

  Her dad attempted to pull her away, but she wouldn’t let him. She ignored his calls and ignored him when he threatened her. Leaving now would be too much to endure, not until she was ready, not until she had her fill.

  “Just as stubborn as ever,” her dad said with a chuckle. “Okay, I’ll be sitting on that bench, when you’re ready you come over.”

  Marjorie grunted a reply that may have been an okay. It was hard to tell.

  The memory faded, and Marjorie found herself back at the table. The Handler sitting across from her held her hand, his eyes closed. He opened them and actually smiled. “Ah, that was a nice memory.”

  Revolted, Marjorie pulled her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I’m sorry. Newman liked it when I held his hand.”

  Marjorie lifted an eyebrow at the comment but didn’t say anything. “Why did you bring me back here? I thought you guys were fine tuning my brain, trying to figure out how I think and how I dream.”

  “I didn’t bring you back. You are still in control. We found that your memories were like that, little snippets of information stored in bundled fibers scattered all over your brain. It’s very complex and even after many years of study we don’t fully understand how it works on humans.”

  “How does it work with you? Since you guys will live forever, do you remember everything?”

  “I can’t say that I remember everything that’s happened to me but I remember enough.”

  “Does anyone die? I mean, how old is the oldest?”

  “That is not any information I am willing to give up to you.”

  That’s interesting, she thought.

  He tilted his head. “I see you’re about ready to take us to another memory. It won’t take long for us to find the memory we need.”

  “I’ll do all I can to hide Earth’s location from you.”

  “I know, but you can’t hide it forever. Now, let’s move onto the next one, shall we.” He reached across to grab Marjorie’s hand and the memory came flooding back.

  She stood outside a room; the hallway filled with young adults running or walking past her. Their faces were blurry, unrecognizable. They all wore cadet uniforms, black shirt with black pants, and black socks with highly polished black shoes. They were talking, the chatter a soft murmur.

  Cadet Sanders had her head against the door crying. Marjorie looked at this poor young thing and felt bad. She didn’t know if she was truly feeling bad or if she was re-experiencing the feelings she remembered.

  She punched the door with her fist and yelled, “You can’t leave me like this! You can’t!”

  The reply from the other side stung now as it did then. “Go back to Payton! He’s the one you really want!”

  “I’m sorry about what happened! It was a mistake.”

  “Leave! If I see you again I’m going to tell the head master you’re harassing me. Let’s see you become a Captain with that on your record.”

  Cadet Sanders, her face stained with tears, bit into her lower lip. Resolve crept into her body and she straightened up. Both her fists were tightly wound into a ball. She kicked the door. “You had better hope I never become a Captain because I’ll do my best to make sure you get assigned to a garbage ship!” She stormed away.

  Older Marjorie watched this and laughed. “That was Captain William Patterson,” she said. “We became great friends before he lost his life at the first battle of Ulliam.”

  “What was the fight about?” Her Handler asked.

  “We were, um, mating and I think I called him Payton. Not one of my better moments.”

  Cadet Sanders continued to briskly walk down the hallway, pushing people out of her way. They must have known how angry she was, no one said a word. “I had a reputation as a hot head so when I was mad people tended to leave me alone. There was only one person who could calm me down.”

  “Payton?”

  “Mason Simpson. He was my best friend.”

  Sure enough Cadet Sanders ran up to another room and pounded loudly on the door. “Mason, let me in, I need to talk to you.”

  “The door is open, come in.”

  She flung the door open and ran in. Mason sat at a desk, his computer turned on with what appeared to be some sort of report on the screen. Old Marjorie was surprised to find she could read some of what he wrote. Was her memory that good and why did she even bother to remember that?

  Mason was a handsome man. He was well manicured, well-built and had an infectious smile and laugh. Those traits would help him become an ambassador later in life. He stood from his chair and pointed to his bed. “Sit down and tell me what Payton did this time.”

  “This is not about Payton!” She yelled.

  “Really?” His voice dripped of sarcasm with an ounce of surprise. “Everything you’ve complained about this year has been about Payton.”

  “I know, I know.” Defeated, Cadet Sanders fell back onto the bed, spread her arms out and looked toward the ceiling. “I think he ruined another relationship.”

  “And how did he ruin it?”

  Cadet Sanders looked at him but didn’t get up. “I can hear that condescending sarcasm.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

  “Fine, okay, maybe it was sort of about Payton but that’s not the point. Bill should be more forgiving. He knew my history, and he knew about me and Payton before he asked me out.”

  “Give it a few days, call Bill and talk to him. He’s a nice guy. He deserves another chance.”

  She sat up and crossed her legs, looking at Mason carefully. “What about Payton? Should I talk to him?”

  “He’s not good for you, leave him alone. Don’t even talk to him.”

  Cadet Sanders sighed and sat up. “This is too complicated! I can’t wait to get out of here and on a ship, things are so simple there! I need a distraction, are you up for a movie?”

  “Always, what do you want to see?”

  “Nothing serious or about love. Don’t think I deal with that right now.”

  The memory faded and Marjorie once again found herself in the room with her handler holding her hands. His eyes closed. He opened them. “What did you do next?”

 
“I called Payton and didn’t talk to Bill until a few years later when we were assigned to the same ship.”

  “This Payton, his name and face come up a lot.”

  “Yeah,” She said as the room once again faded away.

  Older Marjorie looked at the scene, things seemed crisper. The people in the hallway looked familiar; no longer did they look like anonymous blobs. In fact, she remembered most of their names and knew the faces. Was her mind copying and pasting memories from other times into the people or was she actually remembering them? She had a good memory but not this good. Were the Handlers trying to enhance her mind?

  Cadet Sanders walked down the hallway and adjusted her backpack. This was her second day in the academy and she still had her dad’s words echoing in her ear. “Marjorie, please don’t go, not now, you can go later or not at all. I promise I’ll support you and I promise I’ll be strong but please, stay here for another year. The family needs you and you need us. The academy will still be there. I won’t be around forever.”

  Fresh tears tried to form in her eyes but she pushed them back. Her leaving hurt him deeply, especially since it was only three months ago her mom died, and the words stung. The guilt clung to her every second of the day while she roamed the hallways. He would visit her a few times a year and each time she saw him she was shocked at quickly his health was deteriorating. Depression took hold and held onto her dad for a very long time.

  “What’s wrong?” A voice asked and when she turned she saw the most handsome man she had ever seen standing next to her. He was big. Her head barely reached his shoulders and he was strong. His arms bulged out from under his short-sleeved uniform and his chest muscles were easy to spot under his white shirt. His smile caused her to catch her breath, and his eyes showed her a kindness she never thought existed. From the second she saw him, she was in love. She stuttered for a moment, surprised at the sudden question and flustered that such an attractive man would talk to her. “Oh, nothing, just stressed.”

  “That’s what I thought. My name is Payton Cook. You’re a freshman, right?”