Prophecy (Book One in the Prophecy Series)

by Lea Kirk

  ~ * ~

  Alex walked hand-in-hand across the meadow with Gryf. The long, dew-laden grass soaked the hem of her jeans, and her heart was light. How could it not be? She was with the man that fate had destined her for. The one soul in the universe who complemented hers. Her gaze drifted to their joined hands. Alike in more ways than they were different.

  Horses stamped and snorted at the center of the wide field, their ears cocking in different directions as they waited for the people amongst them to mount up for the ride to the Athens transport. Nicky waved to her before turning back to check his saddle’s cinch. It appeared as though Corporal Benji Reyes, and Karise would also be making the trip to the transport with them.

  “Reed!” Gryf’s voice was tinged with delight as Gunner strode toward them. “You returned early.”

  “’Morning, sir. We got in last night. Captain Solaris told us you’d be leaving, so I thought I’d rendezvous with you for a quick report. Congratulations to both of you, by the way.” Gunner grinned at Alex.

  “Thanks, Gunner.”

  Gunner nodded at the man at his side. “This is Mitch Jamison, sir. We found him and thirty-seven others at the avalanche facility.”

  Gryf released her hand to clasp Mitch’s. “It pleases me to meet you, Mr. Jamison.”

  “Likewise, Captain Helyg,” a grinning Jamison said.

  Alex studied Mitch. He had to be in his early fifties. His steel-grey hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his tanned face reflected a lifetime of exposure to the outdoors.

  Gryf placed his hand at the small of her back. “It pleases me to introduce my reason for living, Alexandra Bock.”

  She gave Mitch a smile and extended her hand.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Alex,” Mitch’s pale-blue eyes twinkled as he shook her hand. “Your legacy precedes you.”

  Alex blinked. Now, what in the world did that mean?

  “One minute,” Ora called from atop her horse, giving Gunner a pointed look. “Get on with your report, Reed.”

  “Right,” Gunner’s blue-grey gaze returned to Gryf. “The Reader’s Digest version is, we loaded all eight floats with the explosives from the avalanche facility without issue. Commander Roble, Mitch, and I have seen to their storage.”

  “Only a dozen of my people have experience handling explosives,” Mitch interjected. “The rest are family members, all of whom are hard workers.”

  “It pleases us to have all of you here, Mr. Jamison.”

  “Call me Mitch, please.”

  Gryf inclined his head. “As you say, Mitch. I look forward to speaking with you upon our return this afternoon.”

  “Mount up,” Ora called out.

  An hour later, they rode out of the trees and into rocky ravine. A tingle rippled over Alex, like a feather brushing her skin. She looked up, and clutched her reins tighter. Cripes! She hadn’t expected the transport to be so huge. The blue-silver craft was at least three times the size of a 747. And it hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  “Whoa,” Nicky breathed.

  “I know, right?” Benji Reyes rode up on the other side of her brother, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “Kinda a shock the first time you pass through the cloak, but trust me, the fun is just beginning. Wait ’til you see the inside.”

  A giddy thrill sprang into her stomach. This is real. She dismounted and looped her reins to a makeshift hitching rail under the transport. Gryf appeared at her side and reached for her hand. “I don’t even need to ask what you think. Your face says it all.”

  She gazed up at the side of the craft. “Like a child seeing snow for the first time. ‘Guardian Fleet Ship Athens, Transport 103’. You really are from another planet, honey.”

  Gryf’s eyes widened as though astonished. Had she said something wrong? “I’m sorry. I was only teasing.”

  “No, it is not that,” he replied slowly. “Where did you get the transport identification information?”

  That was easy. She waved her hand toward the ship. “Well, it’s right there on the side...of...the….” A knot formed in her stomach. Cripes. “Gryf, why am I able to read Matiran?”

  “And understand Matiran, my soul?” He replied, using his native tongue again.

  The others stared at her, and her ears heated. Since she’d met Gryf, standing around with her mouth gaping open had become a normal activity for her. But to read and understand Matiran? How could this be possible?

  “Interesting,” Ora observed, also in Matiran. “Alex, try to introduce yourself in Matiran.”

  Speak Matiran? Well, it was worth a try. She dug deep to find the words, but they just weren’t there. She gave her head a sharp shake. “Nothing.”

  Ora drummed her fingers against the wooden hitching rail, eyeballing Alex as if she’d become a riddle to solve. “No worries. I wager it will come to you eventually. This soul mate stuff is fascinating.”

  Alex frowned. If she could read and understand Gryf’s language, then was speaking it such a far-fetched idea? Of course, three years of high school Spanish had taught her that foreign languages were not one of her strong points. Maria and Ramon were forever correcting her Spanish in camp. It was embarrassing.

  The million dollar question was how did it come to her seemingly overnight?

  Heat surged into her face. Next, on The Jerry Springer Show: I learned an alien’s language overnight by having sex with him.

  If only everything were that easy. Or pleasurable. She cast a glance at Gryf.

  Ora gave her a bright smile. “We can talk about this later. I have a ship to show you, and I am quite proud of it.” She tapped the comm attached to her uniform. “Crewman Imifa, please lower the ladder.”

  ~ * ~

  Alex turned her body sideways. For all its size, the transport’s passageways were as narrow as jet aisles. And they’d used a ladder to climb into the belly of the transport. Where were all the high-tech gadgets? Hollywood sure had set the bar high, but reality didn’t seem to agree.

  As they approached a blank wall, Ora touched her palm against an iridescent-green rectangle. The wall scoped open, and Alex blinked. So that’s how the doors worked. Walls turning into doors were disconcerting enough, but at least she couldn’t accidentally lock herself in a room now. Ora breezed through the door ahead, and Alex followed, Gryf’s hand at the small of her back.

  “Captains on the bridge,” Karise announced. The Matirans snapped to attention.

  “As you were,” Ora acknowledged, then dismissed the outgoing shift. “Ensign Ius, our Profeta requires free access to the ship. Lieutenant Commander Zola, the same for Nick, please.”

  “Yes, Captain,” the two Matiran officers answered in unison.

  Ius rose from his seat. “Profeta, you may sit here and I will scan you into our security network.”

  Alex slid into the seat. Rows of meaningless colored lights, solid and blinking, glowed from within the flat, black console. To her right was another glowing green rectangle. So this was where all the techno gadgetry lived.

  “Whoa.” Nicky sat with Karise, his face lit up as his gaze roved over her station.

  Alex allowed a grin to creep onto her face. Whoa was right. She glanced to her right. Benji Reyes appeared confident as he did...well, whatever it was that he was doing at his console.

  But this seemed so lax compared to the post-9/11 world she’d known for so long. “Ora, are you sure I don’t need some sort of security clearance from the fleet, or something?”

  “Sobin.” The Matiran word for cousin fell from Ora’s lips as though she’d called Alex that all her life. “You were cleared twelve millennium ago.”

  Alex parted her lips, and a shiver ran down her spine. Someone knew she would exist twelve thousand years before she was born. Mind blowing.

  “Database scan,” Ius leaned over her shoulder as he spoke the order to the computer in Matiran. Then he pointed to the glowing green rectangle and switched to English. “Place your hand in there, Your Honor, and the identification
reader will scan you into the main database.”

  She suppressed a cringe at his formality. A ripple of Gryf’s amusement flowed over her. Stretching out her hand, she laid it on the rectangle and it sank into a shallow well of liquid crystals. A laugh erupted from her and she yanked her hand back, flexing her fingers. Her hand was completely dry. “It’s like oobleck, Nicky, except not grainy and without the residue.”

  “Kick ass, huh?” Nicky returned her grin, his hand also immersed in a green rectangle.

  “It is a crystalline identification reader,” Karise explained. “Please return your hand, Profeta, before Ensign Ius, er...has a cow, I believe is the Terrian term.”

  “Oh!” Alex spun in her seat and met Ius’s blue eyes. He seemed to be at a loss as to what to do or say to her. It was too much to hope that everyone would remain calm and unflustered by her status. “It’s okay, Ius. I’m not Oz the Great and Powerful.” Cripes, that wasn’t going to work. The poor guy had no reference. “Look, I’m new to all this Profeta stuff, and I really don’t know what I’m doing. If you need something, just ask. Talk to me like I’m another ensign. It’s okay, really.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” he murmured.

  “No more ‘Your Honor’ either. If you have to call me something, then ma’am will work.” Not her number one choice, but it was unlikely he’d agree to call her Alex.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He still appeared rattled, but at least he hadn’t passed out. “Will you put your hand back, ma’am?”

  “Sure.” She pressed her hand back into the cool crystals as far as it would go. The reader turned yellow, and there was a muted whoosh before it turned green again.

  She looked up at Ius. “That was it?”

  “You are finished.” He coughed, and his cheeks darkened.

  Ora tapped her fingers over another console. “Lieutenant Commander Zola, please hail Senior Admiral Cael on a secure range under my code, then direct him through to the viscomm room.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Karise responded, her fingers flying over the panel in front of her.

  “If the Profetae will follow me,” Ora said. “We should be settled by the time the Commander puts through the Senior Admiral.”

  There wasn’t much in the viscomm room. Just a narrow black table situated flush against the back wall. Eight black chairs lined one side of the table. Gryf pulled out a chair in the middle for her, and she sank into the seat. It conformed to her backside like memory foam.

  “Ora and I will stand until we’re given leave to sit,” Gryf explained, his mouth next to her right ear.

  A shiver ran through her, heating her most private parts. She raised her gaze to meet his. “Military protocol. I got it.”

  He brushed a kiss across her lips in response.

  “Captain Solaris,” Karise’s voice came out of the walls. “Admiral Cael is standing by.”

  “Put him through, Lieutenant.”

  The wall opposite them glowed to life, and seven Matirans seated at a similar table appeared. The overall effect was as if they all sat around one table. But, wasn’t there supposed to be only one admiral? Gryf had told her that seven admirals headed the fleets: three for the Defense Fleet, three for the Guardian Fleet, and one neutral. Were they all here? Alex looked up at him. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  “Did you…?” Gryf murmured to Ora.

  “No!” Ora whispered back.

  Cripes, it appeared that the Matiran brass had all come to meet the Profetae. A silent sense of apology flowed across their soul link. So, she wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Alex’s eyes were drawn to the grey-headed man in the center.

  “Please be seated, Captains,” he said. He must be Senior Admiral Cael. The others, two men and four women of various ages, flanked him, three on each side.

  “Thank you, Senior Admiral,” Gryf murmured, then slid smoothly into his chair next to her. He reached for her hand under the table, lacing his fingers with hers. His face reflected professionalism—his game face. Beneath that façade, Alex sensed his uneasiness. She gave his hand a squeeze as reassurance. If nothing else, she’d learned to be flexible and adapt quickly since she’d met him.

  “Senior Captain Helyg, on behalf of the Admiralty, I must express our relief to see you alive and well,” Cael said.

  “Thank you, Senior Admiral,” Gryf replied humbly.

  “Captain Solaris has shared much with me about the Terrian tragedy, and your role as this situation unfolds. She has quite convinced me, and subsequently all of the Admiralty, that you are one half of the long-awaited Profetae. How are you accepting your new role?”

  “With more grace now than I did at first,” Gryf admitted with an almost roguish smile.

  Cael’s lips twitched as though suppressing a smile. “Yes, we suspected so much. And there is further news you have to share with us?”

  Gryf’s gaze met hers and his love surged through their soul link warming her like a summer sun. “Admirals, it pleases me to be graced by Profeta Alexandra Bock, my beloved wife and anim tros.”

  The weight of seven pairs of eyes landed on her. Crickets chirped in her suddenly blank mind. How would she ever represent her people if her brain kept reverting to the intelligence level of a log?

  As one, the admirals inclined their heads. “We are honored, Profeta,” Admiral Cael said.

  Rational thought flooded back, pushing aside the tension of the moment. “The honor is mine, Admiral. Thank you.”

  There. She’d done it—opened dialogue without sounding like an idiot. And after this was over, she would amp up her protocol lessons with Karise.

  “It is true then, eno anim did in fact occur?” One of the female admirals asked. Her hair was blue like Haesi’s, but there was kindness in her sky-blue eyes. She was also at least twenty years older than Haesi.

  Alex nodded in unison with Gryf. The fascination of the admiralty was evident on all their faces.

  “Admiral Teris,” Gryf murmured, and she shot him a grateful look. He picked up a stylus and began writing on the table surface in front of him.

  Admiral Teris continued, “This is such a rare occurrence, Your Honor. You must be overwhelmed by these unfamiliar events.”

  “It has been unnerving from time to time, Admiral Teris. I am thankful that Gryf’s been at my side from the beginning.”

  “The role of Profeta must have been difficult to accept at first.” The man next to Admiral Teris gave her a speculative look. His blond hair was untouched by grey, and he appeared to be the youngest of all the admirals. In fact, he couldn’t be more than five or six years older than Gryf.

  Releasing her hand, Gryf reached across and tapped the table in front of her. A diagram with each of the admirals’ names in order of where they sat relative to her appeared. Handy. She flashed him a smile before turning her attention back to the young admiral.

  “It was difficult in the beginning, Admiral Milvus, but your prophecy gave me hope. And when hope is all you have, you embrace it fully.”

  The silver-headed admiral at the far right end of the table leaned back in his chair, his vivid blue gaze seemed to be sizing her up. Then he raised one eyebrow in an all too familiar way. “And how do you feel about Gryf now, daughter?”

  Her jaw dropped. No way. She glanced at the table-top diagram. ‘Marenys (patre)’. Patre. Father? Amusement danced in the admiral’s eyes and he smiled. The same slow smile as…. She whipped her head around and lasered her husband with a melt-you-into-the-floor glare.

  It had zero effect.

  “Alexandra,” Gryf’s eyes sparkled. “It pleases me to present Admiral Zale Marenys, my father.”

  “You have his smile.” There was no denying it. She looked back at Admiral Marenys. “I have revised my initial opinion, sir. I am pretty attached to him now.”

  Her father-in-law’s smile widened. “If time allows, I hope to have a private conversation with you and Gryf after this meeting.”

&
nbsp; “It would be a pleasure, sir.” Right after she hyperventilated herself into unconsciousness.

  The atmosphere of the meeting took on a serious tone as Admiral Cael brought them up to date. “Matir issued an official warning to Anferthia to stand down and withdraw from Terr. As expected, the time limit expired without a response. It took some time, but the Matiran Defense Fleet was recalled to Matir for rendezvous. Two thirds of the fleet is already en route to Terr.”

  Alex exhaled. Help was on its way. With any luck, Earth and her people would soon be free again.

  “The fleet will arrive in the Terrian solar system in two weeks,” Admiral Cael added.

  “What?” The shocked exclamation rocketed from her mouth. She shot a look at Gryf. Why didn’t he look outraged, or even mildly surprised? “Why so long?” There’d better be a stupendous reason.

  Admiral Teris responded, “Mobilizing a fleet of battle cruisers is a longer process than readying a single transport, Profeta. We must remain close together through open space, or risk the same fate as the Guardians. If we fail to reach you intact, not only will Terr fall to the Anferthians, but so will Matir. We leave behind only a third of our fleet to protect our home.”

  “But, all kinds of things could go wrong in two weeks.”

  What happened to “Warp speed, Mr. Sulu”? Or “Punch it, Chewie”? The Hollywood versions of space travel were so much better than reality. To say she was unhappy about the situation would be a serious understatement.

  “Cori.” Her father-in-law used the Matiran word for daughter this time. “Have faith.”

  Admiral Marenys’s expression was sympathetic. In fact, all the admirals appeared understanding. But they were warriors, trained for times of peace and times of war. And trained to make sound tactical decisions. What else could she do but have a little faith that they knew what they were doing?

  Alex allowed her shoulders to slump. “It’s hard, patre.”