“Is there any news on Agent Montgomery’s condition?”
“No, ma’am. Other than he continues to show moderate improvement. The poison Hammer used on him can’t be removed, only treated.”
They continued to question her, wanting to know about the mysterious woman seen as the center of the drama at the Jefferson Memorial. Hermione told them nothing.
This was the one thing the Aleena had demanded, that Ria’s identity be kept as secret as possible. They were able to clear evidence of her from the computer files, but witnesses still came forward who had seen her in the months prior, with Agent Montgomery. The Aleena released a statement that a human had been their teacher but said nothing else.
Hermione hadn’t seen Ria since she’d followed Sam to the ship.
Three weeks later, she met Drummond for beer and pizza and asked about the author.
Drum drew a deep breath. “She objected strenuously to the technique Milaar employed to save Sam’s life. She was convinced that Sam would rather die. There was no changing her mind, and finally the decision was left up to Sam. He was coherent enough to agree. I haven’t seen Ria since.”
“Exactly what did Milaar do?”
“She implanted three tendrices, the smaller tentacles the Aleena sport along their back. They continually filter Sam’s blood and keep the poison from killing him. She believes they will eventually offer more than service. Much as they healed Ria and monitored her brain chemistry in the beginning, but have since become fully integrated into her human physiology.”
“Ria objected? Why?”
“She won’t explain, H. And until Sam is conscious, I can’t ask him. Something that happened between them the months they were together.”
“I know that Sam was furious as what the Aleena had done to Ria, more with their not telling her…” Hermione sipped at her beer and wondered. “Jarveski didn’t finish his therapy. Is she dangerous?”
“No, only to herself.” Drummond bit into the slice of pizza. “Damn, this is good. The Aleena are getting better at food now that they have actual human restaurants to take samples from. But the nothing looks right. Though the taste is improving.”
“We still don’t know who shot Jarveski. The forensics are a mess. It was either Sicle or Hammer.”
Drum looked up at her. “No, it was Sam. I haven’t told anyone what I saw, but I’m telling you. Hammer got off one command before T’talin was able to use the Aleena ear filters to block his voice. I’ve reviewed the records kept by Alfred’s pet mad scientist, who kept copious notes. The plans for Ria were…despicable. And were told to Sam, to solicit reaction. Hammer told Sam to get Ria. Jarveski stepped into the way.”
“You believe Sam interpreted ‘get’ as shoot?”
“He’d been using their words against them the entire time he was being subjected to the poison. You know him, Hermione. Would he surrender the woman he loved to the same agony he was undergoing? He’d already showed mercy to Admiral Jenkins.”
“You can’t know what he thought.”
“No, but I know him. He’ll deal with it. I have no doubt he was right.”
Hermione gazed at her beer mug, lifted it and emptied it. “Does Ria know?”
“I doubt it.”
“Do you know how far Jarveski progressed with her?”
“I can’t access his files and T’talin won’t assist. He says they are coded for Sam’s eyes only.”
A monitor drew her attention, mounted on the wall to their left. It showed the release of former Congressman Neal Mahano from the Federal cells in Virginia. He’d been arrested more than a decade earlier for sedition and held without representation the entire time.
The Aleena had uncovered the truth of the charges, totally without basis. Mahano had begun to raise legitimate questions regarding the US role in the South Pacific and been silenced.
Drum raised his glass to the man. “Bet he’ll be our new president.”
“Good man for it.” Hermione nodded. “I want to see Ria.”
“Let’s go talk to T’talin.”
He listened to them but shook his head. “N’sila left two weeks ago. She wanted to see the country she once knew. She is safe. She called it a ‘walkabout’. Though she mostly travels by bus and train.”
Hermione sighed. “When will Sam be awake?”
“Milaar believes another two weeks.”
“Then I guess we wait.”
*****
Ria spent two months traveling across the country she’d once called her own. The money from the Aleena enabled her to hire a car, but she often took buses, sitting near windows and staring out at the passing scenery. She would eventually return to the ship, but first, she wanted to see the places she’d enjoyed before she died.
The Grand Canyon, still incredible. The Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, Yosemite. Whichever way the next bus turned, she went with it, crisscrossing the western United States over and over. Nothing on the east coast tempted her.
Sam remained in Virginia, recovering from his brush with death, while the Aleena worked at establishing a relationship with the new government. Before she left, Sam told her he didn’t care that she wasn’t wholly human. But his reaction alongside the road, months ago, proved the lie of that statement. One didn’t react with nausea and not care.
It didn’t matter, she’d return to the ship and remain. If she stayed on land, eventually her identity would be revealed and dealing with that sort of celebrity wasn’t on her new life list. At present she was the unknown woman, credited with teaching the Aleena about humans.
She’d laugh, but somehow she didn’t find it funny. Some part of her thought she should.
One thing that thrilled her was the state of the parks. Evidently, when the possibilities of traveling to distant locations faded, the locals took up the care of the parks. And the politicians adopted the philosophy that it was best to keep the voters happy and show them some sign that not all the tax monies went to fund the war on terror.
Again and again, she found automated systems able to keep track of visitors, make certain they didn’t become lost on trails, provide helpful information and the like. Few actual rangers were visible, too expensive, she assumed. It surprised her not to see more signs of vandalism, but perhaps the complication of life had seen that tendency fade away. The parks had shuttle services to trail heads, accommodations that were simple but clean. Even cafeterias and meal plans that came with staying. She took tours on occasion. Slept outside when the weather was amiable.
And always, she had her music player. The daylight hours were spent walking beneath trees, or climbing rocks, gazing out at vast canyons of twisted rock, and letting the sounds of the natural world fill the gaping emptiness inside. Nights, she curled on a bed, or rode a bus, music her only companion. She took care what selections she made, staying distant from those that triggered a deep melancholy. More often than not, classical compositions calmed her brain, adding to the appreciation for the vistas unfolding before her.
Few fellow passengers attempted to talk with her. She assumed her face warned them off, though that wasn’t done on purpose. Just as pleased to not be subject to societal structure, she didn’t spend too much time thinking about it.
One night, she hiked out to a camper’s cabin, deep inside Bryce National Park and spent the hours of darkness dancing. The spires made her feel as if surrounded by water and she imagined being back aboard the ship, safe and before…before things with Sam went sour.
Ria assumed the Aleena, or members of Sam’s team, were tracking her. She didn’t care and used her credit chits not worrying about electronic footprints. The surveillance cameras were still operational in most public places, though some had been pulled free, or vandalized in the days following the revelations of how the country had been manipulated. Ria didn’t try to avoid them.
When she’d left Washington, she’d told T’talin why she wanted to take this trip and the leader of the aliens didn’t object. He’d reached up and tou
ched her hair, pulling one of the tendrices free from her hair braid. She’d watched it coil about his finger, holding herself still as it appeared to caress that appendage.
“I am always with you, Ria. I gave you these to save you, not tear you apart.”
“I know, T’talin. You have always saved me. Tell him I am sorry.”
“I do not believe you should leave. He will recover.” He studied her, eyes shifting between human and Aleena.
“I trust that. But I cannot face his revulsion again. He will have a difficult time adjusting to life with three tendrices. I am a reminder he doesn’t need.” Slowly, the mini tentacle withdrew and disappeared into her hair. T’talin nodded.
She stuffed a backpack with casual clothing and headed westward. The coast wasn’t a destination. The deep fear of what seeing the Pacific could do to her held sway. Thoughts of San Diego haunted her. But she did want to see the southwest and the mountains, canyons and forests of her youth.
Keeping track of the days wasn’t something she tried to do, but as weeks passed, she noted the change of the seasons and headed for the dormant volcanos of the Pacific Northwest. The innkeeper at the Crater Lake lodge commented how they’d be closing for the season in a few weeks. “Earlier if the snowfall comes. It doesn’t always anymore.”
She’d nodded and asked if there was a park shuttle service to Mt. Lassen.
“Yes. Would you like me to make reservations? It’s one of the totally automated ones.”
“Thank you.”
“And the lodge?”
“Yes. Three nights, please.”
The bearded man nodded, said he’d take care of it and left her to wander outside and stare down at the blue jewel of the lake, tucked deep in the sheer walls of the crater. One day, perhaps she could talk the Aleena into exploring the depths of the lake with one of their scout ships. The quiet surrounded her, dove into her head and quieted the flutters that pressed against her when the bus drew too close to the Pacific. Rationally, she knew there was no danger of seeing the ocean from Crater Lake, but she was finding her rational mind had lost the tight grip it once held on her thoughts.
A flutter of wings drew her attention. A large raven hovered for a moment on the rising air current, then landed on a shrub to stare at her. Its beak opened once, then again, but it made no sound. She smiled slightly at the ruffle of feathers at its neck, envisioning a great Elizabethan collar framing those obsidian black eyes.
“I don’t have anything to feed you. I don’t believe in feeding the wildlife.”
The bird hopped onto another branch, casting a glance at her and tilting its head. She’d missed birds when traveling with Sam. He’s explained that thousands of species had disappeared in the last few decades. It was only in the places far from human industry that some birds still thrived. She’d seen none in the southwest, but in the northwest, the feathered folk did better.
The large bird opened its beak again and this time it loudly croaked at her.
“Nevermore, eh?” She chuckled, then shook her head. When had she last laughed? Oh, with Sam. At Smiley’s. A sudden ache rose from her belly and she put a hand at her heart. It wasn’t possible to actually suffer a broken heart, she reminded herself.
The raven let loose with a series of caws that sounded like laughter. She opened her mouth, uncertain what she was going to do…
“Ma’am, your room is ready and the cook has fixed you a pack lunch to take hiking.”
The emotional rise dropped away into stillness as she turned to address the attendant. She handed her pack to him, he’d see it to her room, and took the sack lunch. She planned on reaching the water and taking the launch out to Wizard Island, returning before dark.
The next morning, Ria took another hike to a viewing area that gave her a vista of the cascades to the north. When she turned back to look at the lake, a sudden realization hit her that the lake color was similar to Sam’s eyes. She pulled her music player out and filled her head with the crash of the most cacophonous rock music she could find.
On the shuttle to Mr. Lassen, she kept the music playing. With no driver, there was no need to speak. But her mind wouldn’t let go of the color of Sam’s eyes, she drifted into a nap and woke with a start, heart pounding, hands clenched, face screwed tight. It was too much, she wanted it to go away.
Why did she ever think she wanted to feel emotions again? This was torture. She leaned against the glass, head pounding and switched off the music. It wasn’t helping anymore. This was the last stop on her tour of the country. She planned on taking a train back to the east coast, but what if she couldn’t stop this ache?
21
Sam glared at T’talin. “I need to see her.”
The alien tilted his head. “Agent Montgomery, are you angry at Ria?”
“What? No! Why would I be angry at her?” Sam closed his eyes. “No, she has the right to be angry at me. Where is she? Please.”
In the end, it wasn’t the Aleena that tried to keep him on the east coast, it was the new president. Finally, Sam convinced the man of his lack of value. “I’ve been unconscious for six weeks. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know from Dr. Drummond, or his son, Jermaine , even Professor Bales…they’ve all been here for the transition. I have business elsewhere.”
He won. T’talin showed him how to trace Ria, via her music player. When he handed the incredibly expensive ticket to the security at the airport, she was in Oregon. When he left that plane in Portland, she had turned south. He studied the computer tablet displaying the information regarding her journey, he deduced where she was likely heading and rented a car. The Aleena insisted on providing financial assistance for this trip. And their access to funds was limitless.
Finally, he stood at the foot of a looming mountain, looking down at the GPS signal. Yes, she was up there, ahead of him. He downloaded the trail guide and began the climb. Though the Aleena released him from their infirmary with a clean bill of health, his body had lain still for too long. He could feel the tendrices tucking themselves tight against his skull. Undoubtedly they found the dry air challenging.
He understood what they were now and how they functioned. Milaar explained that they hadn’t kept the knowledge from Ria with deliberation.
“There seemed no reason to explain to her. Her first few years, we deduced her emotionally unstable and sought to reduce the stress of her situation. Later…” The Aleena physician tried to shrug, which Sam found fascinating. They were adopting human customs so quickly. “I admit, we didn’t see the need. Initially, they were not meant to be permanent. The fractures of her skull necessitated their implantation, but they melded with her brain in an unforeseen way.”
“She used them without knowing what they did?” Sam guessed. By then, he knew of the three used to keep him alive.
“Intuitively. They took over keeping her chemically stable from emotional outbursts. They are part of her, but exist in almost a parasitical fashion. Save they will not harm their hosts. And they adapt.” Milaar had smiled slightly.
“As you adapt. I get it.”
“They will change to meet your demands and assist you, agent. And we who donated will grow new ones.”
Sam didn’t want to know what she was missing to keep him alive. The poison Hammer had injected continued to build up in his system, without the filtering ability of the tendrices, he’d die.
As the oxygen demand grew with his hike, his scalp began to itch. His hair was once again past his shoulders. Between the water and food aboard the ship plus the new implants, he’d have it down to his thighs in no time. But Milaar had assured him that he could cut it easily.
“They will retreat when faced with damage. I would recommend you maintain a length just past your shoulders, for maximum health.” Milaar appeared to find his grimace amusing and chuckled at him.
A surge of energy ran through him and he finished the last section of switchbacks feeling invigorated, assuming the additions at his head had somehow ga
uged what he needed and provided it. Again, he checked the GPS reading. It was extremely precise. He paused to survey the vista and whistled. It was impressive. And extremely isolated. His car was the only one in the lot. An automated voice at the entrance to the park had recommended he leave his vehicle and use the shuttle system, but he flashed his newly issued badge and was waved through.
He’d seen very few visitors as he drove the park road. The few shuttles that passed were not full. As he considered these things, a growing sense of foreboding filled him. Why such a lonely place? He glanced upward. So dry, so…high.
“Shit.” He increased his pace.
*****
Ria sat on a rock at the edge of a steep drop off and drank her water. The view of Mt. Shasta’s snow covered peak was obscured, as it normally was. Even with global warming, that solitary mountain made its own clouds.
She’d found some respite when she’d hiked down to Bumpass Hell the day before. Watching the boiling sulfur pots had been oddly calming. Now she stood on the peak of Mt. Lassen and considered her future.
“I’m one hundred and twelve years old.”
Stating the bald facts didn’t make them real. But they were the truth. If one calculated from the date she was born, one hundred and twelve years had passed. She had earned the right to be tired.
When she jumped from that cruise ship, she’d thought there was nothing to live for. No reason to continue throwing her efforts into lost causes, nothing to look forward to. Jarveski had uncovered the extent of her resentment regarding Phillip’s deception and the deep fear she held after the magic of writing deserted her. The weight of her sadness overwhelmed the desire to live.
The rational couldn’t be denied. Not then. And not now.
She glanced downward.
Almost absentmindedly, she touched her music player and let it randomly make selections. A sweet cello solo swept through her and she decided she wanted to hear it to the finish. Sliding from the rock she began to walk around the exterior of the crater. Rugged landscape, harsh and unforgiving, met her every glance, contrasting to the mellow richness of the music.
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