by Jim Laughter
Since the final verdict of the investigation, Stan had been filled with an overwhelming sense of bitterness. He looked behind Jake and Sherry at a piece of ship hull plate, now surrounded by sprays of fresh flowers.
He was meant to fly among the stars, Stan thought, reading the name Cabbage Patch on the piece of hull. And then a bitter thought forced itself upon his mind—Who will be next?
When the music ended, Jake stepped to the lectern and motioned for the crowd to be seated. As soon as all was quiet, he launched into the story of Delmar; his life, his accomplishments, his death, and most of all, the eternal hope in the bosom of the Unseen One they all shared that this fallen friend was now experiencing.
Forty minutes after he’d started, Jake brought the memorial service to an end. A simple prayer was offered to the Unseen One, seeking divine protection for those who fly among the stars, and for grace to help keep the bitter roots of resentment and fear out of the hearts of all of Delmar’s friends and family.
When he finished, Jake and Sherry walked together down the center aisle of the chapel. Robert and Agnes followed. Stan and the Sabetis brought up the rear. Leatha had left the memorial service early so she could take her place for the next part of the service.
Once outside, it seemed appropriate that the sunlight was just beginning to break through the overcast. The five moved to one side and the chapel quickly emptied. Stan took his place again next to Robert and Agnes while they all waited expectantly. Jake and Sherry looked skyward. Everyone else followed their gaze.
Approaching at low altitude up the valley was a formation of Axia ships. How Leatha had arranged it on such short notice Stan never found out, but she’d called together the other Captains that had graduated with her and Delmar. Now one shy of their original four, the three Fast Attack Recon ships flew slowly over the chapel and the crowd next to it.
Leatha’s Aurora flew in the lead followed by the other two ships. The traditional missing-man formation, signifying that a comrade had fallen, his ship no longer filling its appointed slot, passed silently overhead.
Those below watched the ships disappear out of sight down the valley. Then a small contingent of troopers in dress black uniforms formed up and entered the chapel, led by Mike Azor. Moments later, they emerged carrying between them the piece of hull plate and the flowers that had surrounded it.
Jake and Sherry fell in behind them as they passed by. Robert and Agnes, followed again by Stan and the Sabetis, came next and the processional began the final march to escort the piece of hull to the eternal memorial site that had been prepared to receive it.
A single trooper standing on a lonely knoll not too far away blew taps on a simple bugle, its sad notes carried away by a gentle breeze.
∞∞∞
Far away on a distant planet, the object of their mourning tossed through another fitful night disturbed by troubling dreams that faded in wisps of memory.
Delmar awoke, tangled once again in sweat-soaked sheets. He grabbed the pad and pencil he kept beside his bed in hopes of writing down parts of the dream. Experience had taught him that with enough effort, he was able to retain small fragments of the elusive images. Doctor Murphy came in and saw Delmar madly scribbling. He waited patiently until Delmar stopped.
“You had another one, I see,” Doctor Murphy said. “Did you get anything this time?”
“Just a little bit. Mainly two parts.”
Doctor Murphy sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, the first one was of an older couple,” Delmar said, consulting his notes.
“Your parents?”
“Not exactly,” Delmar answered. “We were having dinner at their home, but it wasn’t exactly my home. It felt more like I was visiting.”
“What about the second piece?”
“That one was simpler,” Delmar replied. “It was about me. All I got was a title to put in front of my name—Trooper-Third.”
Doctor Murphy looked at the young man for a moment and then stood up. Leaving the room, he returned with the remains of an ID tag in his hand. He sat back down and handed it to Delmar. All they had been able to make out so far was a part of his first name and the word Erdinata printed on it. Examining it now, they were able to figure out the two strange markings in front of his name.
“I guess that fits,” the doctor said. “Seems to me that ‘T-3’ could mean Trooper-Third.”
“That’s reasonable,” Delmar agreed. “But it raises some new questions. Who am I a trooper for?”
“Not to mention, what exactly is a trooper?” the doctor added.
“Sounds sort of militaristic to me,” Delmar said.
“Well, you were wearing an outfit that looks a lot like a military utility uniform when you were brought in that first time. We thought it might have been a jumpsuit of some kind, and it was torn pretty bad, but anything is possible.”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Did you get any names about the couple?”
“No,” Delmar answered, shaking his head. “Just an image of them in front of their house. A farmhouse, I think.”
“Well, that’s something at least,” Doctor Murphy said. “Just keep at it and we’ll get it put together yet.”
“If I can remember anything clearly, I’ll try to sketch the images,” Delmar said. “Maybe that way we’ll reinforce whatever bridge we have to those memories.”
“It might work,” Doctor Murphy agreed. “Now,” he added, changing the subject, “what are you doing today?”
“Abby and I are going flying again,” Delmar answered. “She said she’s planning to teach me how to pilot the flyer myself.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? Those things look too fragile to me.”
“Not really,” Delmar replied, visions of the combination of flying wires springing to mind.
“How does it feel?” Doctor Murphy asked. “Flying I mean.”
“Quite natural. Sort of like I’ve flown before, except different somehow.”
∞∞∞
The wood gatherers had been searching all morning for the type of wood requested by the master carver. One after another brought samples from far and near. Each sample was evaluated according to the master’s own discriminating tastes. Only a few were retained to be used for the making of various attachments to the project.
Finally, another sample was brought of a slightly oily wood that grew in abundance some distance from the village. The master carver took the sample and began to examine it. He was already familiar with the tree, but this project required he take extra caution in his selection.
Scraping the surface clean, the master sniffed and then tasted the wood shavings. He cut deep into the sample, exposing the deep grains and oil of the tree. Again, he sampled the texture of the wood and nodded his approval. With his favorite knife, he began to cut into the piece.
His practiced hands carved different patterns and types of cuts into the wood, testing for its ability to be worked. The more rigorously he tested the piece, the more satisfied he became. At last his decision was made.
Summoning the wood gatherers, he gave quick, concise instructions for the gathering of this particular wood. After they were dispatched, the master carver called those under him that were practiced in the craft.
Under his skilled hands, the sample began to take shape according to the image in his mind. As he progressed, he explained each move and cut he made with his knife into the piece of wood. Those of the craft watched intently to grasp the ideas and techniques the master conveyed.
Come nightfall when the wood gatherers returned, they would be ready, their skillful hands reproducing the likeness of the thing in the cave.
∞∞∞
Arriving at the airpark, Delmar headed immediately to the hanger. He stepped inside and found Abby curled up asleep under the tail of the skyflyer. Still dressed in her dirty coveralls, it was obvious from her appearance that she’d worked late into the night and fallen a
sleep under the aircraft.
She was lying on her side, the old quilt she kept in the hanger pulled up tight around her. It was then that Delmar realized he had never heard her mention having anywhere else to live or stay. He also realized that in all the nights they had worked together at the hanger, he had never once walked her home.
Delmar stepped carefully back out of the hanger and kicked an old bucket to make some noise. He heard Abby stir inside. He made himself scarce for a few minutes and when he returned, he acted as if he had only just arrived.
“So the sleepyhead finally shows up,” Abby said teasingly from where she tinkered at the workbench. Delmar noticed the sleep lines still evident on her face.
“Well, I didn’t want to rush things,” Delmar replied with a fake yawn. “How are you today?”
“Good as ever,” Abby replied cheerfully.
“Been at it for a while?”
“Not long,” she answered, somewhat truthfully.
“Had anything to eat?”
“Only the usual.”
“Well, since you have decided so graciously to teach me how to fly this thing, I’ve decided not to do it on an empty stomach,” Delmar commented. “What say we go down to the diner and get breakfast?”
“Is that an offer to treat?”
“I wouldn’t suggest it if that had not been my intention,” Delmar said.
A short time later found the couple at the local corner diner, two steaming plates of biscuits and gravy before them. For some reason, Delmar found himself wanting to bow his head and offer thanks for the food. Abby watched Delmar’s attempt at prayer, but he didn’t seem to know exactly who he was praying to.
“You know, we believe in the Creator too,” Abby offered.
“You do?”
“Sure. Just look around,” Abby said, waving her hand in the general direction of her surroundings.
“Nature itself exclaims the presence of a creator. Surely you don’t believe all of this just happened, do you?”
“I don’t know what I believe,” Delmar answered, “mostly because I don’t know who I am.”
“I know who you are, Del,” Abby answered. “You’re the man that fell out of the sky and into my heart.”
She blushed a little when she realized what she had said. She didn’t intend to express quite so openly the feelings she was hiding inside.
Delmar was also embarrassed by Abby’s sudden revelation. He too had been feeling a strange attraction to this young woman, but didn’t know quite how to express himself.
Turning back to his breakfast, Delmar had to feign hunger since he had already eaten with Doctor Murphy only an hour earlier.
“What are your plans for me today?”
Abby, caught off guard with a mouthful of biscuits and gravy, choked it down and answered.
“First, I intend to have you handle the controls on the ground to get a feel for them,” she said. “Then I’ll show you all I know about the engine.”
“But why?” Delmar asked. “I thought I was learning to fly. Not how to be a mechanic.”
“Because a good pilot understands his flyer,” Abby said. “When something goes wrong up there, you have no one but yourself to depend on.”
“You mean I might have to fix something on the engine while in flight?”
“That’s right,” Abby answered. “It’s either that or crash. Take your pick.”
“So what do we do after that?”
“Then we fire up the engine and have you practice taxiing the flyer around,” Abby answered. “I’ve seen more than one good pilot tear up his flyer because he didn’t or couldn’t handle it on the ground.”
“It doesn’t look too difficult.”
“It’s easy, really. You only have to convince the flyer that you’re in charge.”
“So what about actually flying the thing?” Delmar asked. “Will we eventually get to that?”
“Of course. That’s what this is all about.”
An hour later, the two were going over the workings of the skyflyer. Delmar picked up the basics of the engine with a speed that surprised them both. His hands already seemed familiar with working on such a piece of machinery. Likewise, with the dry run on the function of the controls. Delmar took to it naturally, except he kept reaching for the engine throttle in the wrong place. The control stick also felt a little strange. His left hand kept wanting to roll it around like a ball.
Finally, the time came for them to begin taxi practice. Using the rope system, they got the engine started and climbed aboard. Releasing their retaining line, the flyer was soon bouncing along on the grassy field.
Delmar found it took a little practice to keep the flyer under control. If he went too slow, it tended to become mired in the soft dirt. If he went too fast, the flyer wouldn’t turn well and tended to skid. Abby told him that it was due to the wings taking effect.
“How does it feel?” Abby yelled as they came to a stop at the far end of the field.
“Great!” Delmar called back over the roar of the engine.
“Then we shall fly.”
Under her direction, Delmar brought the flyer around until it faced into the wind down the long grassy runway. As soon as they were lined up, Abby told Delmar to push the throttle almost full forward.
The engine behind them roared and the flyer began to accelerate down the field. Delmar was again taken back by all the shaking and bouncing during the take-off roll. This time, however, he noticed that it started to lessen as they gained speed over a certain point. Finally came the moment of truth.
“All right, ease back on the stick,” Abby shouted over the roar of the engine.
Delmar pulled back gently on the stick as he’d been instructed. He was surprised at the amount of resistance it offered. He eased it back a little and then waited what seemed an eternity for something, anything to happen.
Just when he was about to panic, he felt the flyer shudder as the air rushing over and under the wings took hold and lifted them off the ground. The shaking stopped and Delmar felt himself soaring upward into the cloudless afternoon sky.
Chapter Fourteen
The six months since Delmar’s memorial service passed in a fog for Stan. People around him found he still functioned, but that his work had a mechanical nature about it.
He was not alone in this. Robert Hassel, trying desperately to deal with his own grief, was deeply troubled by the changes in Agnes. Her spark was gone and now she just shuffled through her existence. Robert took the liberty of having Rosemary Sabeti visit when she could, bringing the children with her. Only when Agnes held the youngest in her arms and had little Del-Robert playing at her feet did anyone see even a shadow of her former self.
There was fallout in other areas as well. Leatha and Stan found a tension developing in their relationship. Although they were still deeply in love and committed to each other, an uncertainty had taken root in their hearts. When the Axia started assigning the refitted Aurora to distant missions, neither Stan nor Leatha objected. However, each time Leatha prepared to leave, she sensed the deep fear that Stan couldn’t yet express.
As a result of the strains in their relationship, the couple postponed their wedding indefinitely. Leatha didn’t want to force Stan into a lifelong commitment before his heart was healed and ready. Stan on the other hand was deeply afraid the wedding would only hasten the day when he would lose Leatha to some needless tragedy.
Only when immersed in his work could Stan find any solace for the loss of his best friend. By narrowing his focus until it was only the electronic components before him did he manage to disassociate himself from the bitterness of his grief. His unit chaplain noticed the signs in the young trooper but could only wait until Stan was ready to face it.
It was over another lifeless evening meal that Leatha brought up their next assignments.
“I finally got that reassignment I’ve been dreading for a month.”
“Where are they sending you this time?”
“I’m going into courier service between Shalimar and the rim for a time,” Leatha said. “At least until they can get a few more Albert Drive ships into service.”
“What about your mentorship?”
Soon after the memorial service, Leatha had taken back her student, Melissa, from Ert. She’d proven to be an interesting challenge but sometimes she found the situation vexing. She suspected the problem was her own unresolved grief rather than anything with Melissa.
“I’ll still continue on a part-time basis. Ert will fill in the rest and keep tabs on her overall progress.”
“I received orders too,” Stan said.
“Where are they sending you?” Leatha sensed apprehension in Stan’s voice.
“Back out to the new mothership assigned to sector 2046-W. It seems their computers have developed some unusual glitches compiling all the data the scouts keep sending in.”
“When do you leave?”
Leatha felt a tear form in her eye.
“Tomorrow morning. They’re sending me out on the regular supply run.”
“Sounds like it isn’t too urgent this time.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I better get back to my room.”
Leatha rose to her feet. “I have to go over some of Melissa’s assignments before I hand it off to Ert in the morning.”
Stan nodded and then watched Leatha leave without another word, a cold, sick dread welling larger in his grieving heart.
∞∞∞
Morning arrived with its usual vengeance at Delmar’s rooming house. A few months ago, he and Doctor Murphy came to the conclusion that his condition had stabilized enough for him to be out from under the doctor’s constant care. Delmar still checked in with the physician regularly as they continued to try to reopen his lost memories. However, little progress had been made.
Since he was now on his own, Delmar had gone looking for a means to support himself. Having discovered his mechanical aptitude while helping Abby with her skyflyer engine, he gravitated toward the various shops that dealt in mechanics. He found an opening for a trainee position at the local horseless carriage repair shop and soon fit into the routine of the facility. Before long, Howard the proprietor, discovered he had a natural mechanic on his hands and took extra effort to train Delmar. Word spread throughout the community that the new mechanic was particularly adept.