by JB Penrose
When she opened her eyes, Rachel was in a chair at the kitchen table. Peter knelt beside her. “Are you alright?”
She tried to stand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. Do you feel better now?”
She shrugged. “In what way?” Her best friends had just been murdered. A major world conference had been bombed. And Peter was still, well, she didn’t want to think about that.
“Is the coffee ready?” Rachel declined his attempts to help and forced herself out of the chair. “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.” She needed as much space between them as possible; she also knew she couldn’t bear to be alone. “What about the conference? Now that... now that...Nathan...”
“The conference will continue, with some modifications of course, and a new location.”
He watched in silence as she prepared the coffee, and still neither of them spoke as they watched it drip into the glass pot. Each drop was like a bullet to her heart, her friends, a bomb, and Peter. “And what about the launch?”
There was a moment of hesitation, and then shook his head. “John wants to move the date forward,” he answered quietly.
The phone rang again, and again, it took a message.
“Why did no one ever know your name? Who are the other crewmembers?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Why all the secrecy?”
“The secrecy is, well, a security precaution.” Peter took the cups from her. “Let’s not talk about it now.”
“You’re going to be gone any day now. What would it hurt to answer a few questions?” Rachel wasn’t sure what the questions were, but she was sure the answers were slipping away.
“It’s personal.” His eyes said more.
“And I’m not?”
“You’re different.”
“Then treat me different. Answer some questions,” she begged.
His moment of hesitation cost him the chance to answer. She’d been foolish to think anyone had her answers. “Never mind.” Tears escaped before she could stop them. “I’ll be just a minute. I need to freshen up.”
“Rachel?”
She heard his chair scrape away from the table as she ran from the room. Maybe he would just leave; they might as well launch tonight. The truth was all she wanted.
Rachel closed the door to the bathroom and turned on the faucet just to drown out the sound of Peter calling her name. It wasn’t fair. They had so much in common, too much. He was familiar from the moment they met. His friends were all tied together with neat little threads and in some way she felt tied to them by her work with Nathan and his work with John Reider. And Peter, well, he might have been the one person that really understood about her.
Rachel splashed cold water on her face and tried to grasp the evening’s events. Ramifications of Nathan’s assassination would run deep; there was much riding on the success of the OneWorld Conference. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. The world would miss a great man, and she would miss her best friend.
“Jesus meet them.” She continued to pray silently.
Sadness grounded her back the present. Li’Ana would miss the lunch and Rachel’s description of their fairy tale date. She wondered if Li’Ana knew Peter was part of the Aurora’s crew.
Suddenly, her intuition, and the onset panic told her Peter wasn’t in the kitchen any longer. She rushed into the hall and without thought her feet took Rachel in a direction she knew she would find him.
“What are you doing in here?”
Peter was standing in front of Sun Liu’s portrait over the fireplace in the library. He didn’t move at the sound of her voice.
“What are you doing in here?” she demanded.
“Where did you get this?” he finally answered. His fingers stretched lovingly toward Sun Liu’s portrait and traced the outline of her lips on the canvass.
“What does it matter to you?”
“I painted it.”
That was one of her questions. He didn’t mention the age of the painting but Rachel was glad he confessed to being the artist. “I know you painted it,” she accused. “What I want to know is, how?”
“Not from a photograph if that’s what you mean.” His eyes never left the portrait. “Please, tell me. Where did you get this?”
She planted herself between Peter and the mantle and forced him to look at her. Her courage came from desperation. “I’m asking the questions. Like who are you? And just how did you know Sun Liu?”
“I loved her.” He studied Rachel curiously.
“How could you love her?” she challenged. “This painting is centuries old!”
“I know that. I’ve already said I painted it.”
“But, but...” Rachel sank to the hearth without feeling the stone. She didn’t know how to phrase the questions she wanted to ask.
Rachel had been right about his style of painting. She was right when she guessed he was a crewmember. The odds of him having the answers to her questions were even more remote, but she knew this was her chance.
Peter sat beside her and took her hands. “What I’d like to know is how you knew her name was Sun Liu?”
“I loved her, too. She was my mother.” Rachel confessed. If she wanted honesty, she’d better start by giving it. She took another deep breath. “Sun Liu taught me everything about life, art and music, and love. And when she died she left me her one treasured possession – an unsigned portrait by an artist she loved until the end of her days. I knew I recognized your style from all those paintings. But who are you? And, how could you?”
“How could I paint something that is now centuries old? How you would know to ask me about it is just as good of question.”
Peter held her face with his hands and studied her. Rachel felt herself float from hope to determination, but she held his gaze, as well as her breath. After a term of forever, he threw his arms around her with a hug so hard it rocked her off balance.
“I can’t believe it. I have finally found you!” Peter began to laugh uncontrollably.
Rachel found herself getting angry. “I still don’t understand. Tell me who you are!”
“It’s who you are that’s important. Sun Liu wasn’t your real mother, was she?” His intensity frightened her, but he seemed so sure of himself.
Rachel however was even more scared. Her body trembled and she shook him off when he reached for her shoulders. She stood, and tried to focus. “I’m asking the questions.”
“I’m trying to tell you I know your real parents.” He left her momentarily to grab his valise from the table at the entry. When he returned to her side, he pulled her down to the hearth. “Are they really dead?” he challenged.
She couldn’t speak. She needed to hear some answers.
“Maybe it’s possible I know your natural mother, your real parents. Did they call you Roko?”
“You know that?” Rachel’s heart pounded at the oldest name she remembered; still, she couldn’t look at him. Peter reached for her hands but she kept them in her lap.
“Then I’m right so far?” He waited for her head to nod before continuing. “You’ve heard that old saying? That truth sounds stranger than fiction?” He lifted her chin to look her straight in the eye; she nodded. “I’m from the planet Biatra-IV, in the Bara System. So are your parents, Dalyn and Zebede.”
“You mean I’m an alien?” The idea was not new to her.
“No,” he answered slowly. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, then? You’re saying you’re an alien, and my parents are, but I’m not, and we’re all thousands of years old?”
“Sort of. We have been looking for you for a long time,” he laughed softly. “And here you are, right under our nose. Probably not for the first time,” Peter realized, “but that can’t be helped. I’ve found you now!”
“But who am I? Why was I lost? Are we the only aliens?”
He stopped her questions with a finger to her lips. “Are you ready for the truth?”
Rachel�
�s belief wavered slightly but she bit her lip in silence. She’d waited a long time for the truth.
“There are six of us, you make seven. Our spaceship, the Orygin, crashed to Earth the night Jesus was born. Not crashed,” he checked his answer, “set down, actually, by the hand of God it seemed. It is part of a great plan we have long since forgotten to question.”
“Then who am I?” she repeated.
“You,” he paused, “are Mary Magdalene’s daughter; I call her Mags. James Zebede is your father and John’s brother. That makes John your uncle,” which started Peter’s laughter again.
It did help Rachel to finally hear some answers. Suddenly the questions were just a fog in her mind. Her heart was beating so strong it shook her body. The truth was vaguely familiar but not at all acceptable. “So you’re saying Mary Magdalene was an alien? Are you telling me you are one of His disciples? But history recorded your deaths.”
“Yes, but we were writing the history. And technically, you’re not an alien since you were born on Earth.”
Peter reached out to hold her but Rachel stood, nervous. He was so sure; she was numb. “You said there were six of you. I’m only counting five.”
Peter seemed reluctant to answer her. He stood, almost pacing past her, and took a moment to formulate his answer. Rachel shook her head. “Now is not the time to start editing yourself. Tell me everything, please.”
“Actually,” Peter explained. “The problem is in not knowing what to say. Iscar, Judas Iscariot in history, hasn’t been seen since you disappeared. We often thought he might have found you and kept you from us.”
“No, I don’t think I’ve ever run into him.” Rachel paused. “I have a certain empathy towards humans, but you and John, and Andrew, too, are the only people I can’t sense. I’m sure if I had crossed Judas Iscariot’s path, I’d know it.”
“John has never made a secret of his whereabouts, but Iscar has never contacted us. We always hoped he would do so before the launch.”
“And you were going to leave me?” Rachel suddenly panicked at the realization. “And Iscar?”
“It’s nothing we intended to do,” Peter immediately wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “And it was especially hard for Mags. It’s just that all the signs are pointing us towards a launch; we don’t seem to be able to stop it.”
“Like the light in the sky,” Rachel asked. “Do you know what it is?”
“No, but it’s similar in nature to the situation that brought us here. And now, with the world clamoring to know the source of the light and the Aurora being the only ship capable of that kind of galactic travel, everything seems to be telling us to launch.”
“How convenient the Aurora is available.” She tried to keep the criticism out of her voice.
“Don’t get me wrong, the Aurora has been ready for decades. John has dedicated his life to finding a way home. But the timing hasn’t been right, and we hadn’t stopped looking for you.” Peter assured her. “But lately, someone, Frank Morrow specifically, has gotten very close to discovering our secrets, and you can only imagine how dangerous that could be – for the world to know who, what we really are.”
“How could he discover what you’ve been able to hide for centuries?”
“Andrew is sure that Iscar is helping him, for what reason I can’t say. But each day he draws closer to the truth it pushes us closer to a launch. Trust me, we have searched through history and the world to find you before that happened, and now, here you are!”
Rachel did understand the danger of discovery; she had lived it herself for over a thousand years.
“Mags will be beside herself. That’s even her silver cross you’re wearing. I told you it was magic!”
“The memories of my parents are like dreams to me. How can you be sure?”
“Do you think there’s another girl out there who is over a thousand years old?” He laughed again. “Don’t worry. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You look so much like her.”
His smile was so reassuring. His outstretched arms were both inviting and supporting. Was this it? Is this what she’d waited for? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Her vision blurred but she didn’t realize it was tears. Rachel closed her eyes. It felt like jumping off a cliff in the dark. A leap of faith!
Finally, she leaned into Peter’s embrace. His strength surrounded her and when she looked at him, his move to kiss her could not have been stopped. Her heart soared as their soft lips mingled with heat. Rachel thought even their breath was in sync. The passion they felt surprised them and it took both their energies to push apart.
“I never thought I could share this with anyone,” she whispered, afraid she’d wake from this dream.
“Not just anyone, my dear. One of the originals. You’ve been lost to us for a long time. I guess we forgot what we were looking for.”
“What happened to me?” she asked. “Memories are like dreams, and I was so young.”
“After Jesus – ascended,” he took a deep breath, “we retreated to a desert oasis where you were born soon after. The homestead seemed to never exist on any route and our lives were uninterrupted by the passage of time. When it seemed safe to travel again, we alternated on expeditions, to teach as well as explore. Only one time was the oasis ever discovered. We were away and slavers attacked during the night. Iscar hid you in the cellar and tried to stop them, but you were discovered and kidnapped.
“Your mother was seriously injured in the struggle to save you, the only time any of us have been hurt, but still Iscar set out to track them. We never heard from him again. Unfortunately, a sandstorm wiped out the trail before we returned. Since then, we have chased only rumors to find you. And I promise,” he paused, “we chased every one of them.” Peter pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and guided her to the sofa. “What do you remember?”
“The first thing I remember is being taken across water. I’d never been away from home and the change from desert to ocean, and then into the mountains of China was something I’ll never forget. The trip was long; I was always guarded, and always kept alone.” Rachel drew up her knees. “I was too young to escape and had no sense of time or direction.
“Finally, the Tseng matriarch bought me as a yotou, a bondmaid. Remember the hairclip you admired? Meimei?” He shook his head. “I was treated as no one’s sister. I was paraded as an oddity because I understood and could converse in every language.”
“Like Latin,” Peter laughed.
“Latin was one of the easiest,” she admitted. “I was there for generations, measuring time only by the passing of those I served.
“Late one-night soldiers broke into the palace. They slaughtered the Royal Family and most of their servants. I escaped in the commotion and ran for days, always hiding, homeless and hungry for the first time. I never felt safe again.” They were difficult memories to talk about. Rachel took a deep breath and continued.
“Sun Liu tried to change that. She found me sleeping in her wagon, and I went from living secluded in a palace to seeing the world from a trading caravan.”
“She was a wonderful woman,” Peter said. “I’m glad you knew her.”
“I was there for her - until she died. She always loved you. I’ve followed you though your artwork for centuries.”
“I loved her too,” he admitted, “but I had to leave before she discovered who I really was. What we were.” There was regret in his voice, but he squeezed her hand. “I can’t believe I was close to you even back then.”
His excitement scared her. Her mind and heart were trying to outpace themselves against her will. So much was happening that explained her past, her history, and it was still hard to believe. She wanted something tangible, and her hand went involuntarily to the silver necklace.
Peter jumped up and dashed to a near chair. “You’re going to love this,” he assured her with excitement.
“What’s in the bag?” She watched him closely as he opened the old leather valise he
always carried and reached inside to remove something wrapped in white silk.
“My life, or anything that’s ever meant something to me.”
He un-wrapped a slender oblong chest, black as onyx but light and fragile as balsam.
The pictures inside were drawn on papyrus; some of the oldest she’d ever seen. But there was one he specifically sought and she sat patiently waiting. Then, watching her intently, he laid a drawing in her lap. Rachel gasped as she recognized the truth. It was a picture of her as a child! Then he placed another picture in her lap.
“Mother?” Rachel remembered the shape of her eyes, and the crinkled ridges of her mother’s smile. Her cascade of curls was pushed back in a carefree manner, and she recalled, for an instant, how her mother’s laugh seemed to jingle like bells in the wind.
Tears dropped to the page and smudged the charcoal, but Peter seemed unconcerned. She never dreamt her mother could still be alive, even if she herself was. She dared to believe what he told her.
“Let’s see,” he started to make plans. “We’ll have to leave immediately. Oh God! Mags will burst, I know it.”
“What do you mean?” she stiffened. “I can’t go anywhere.”
“But your parents! You have to get ready! We’re launching in 48 hours.”
“I can’t go anywhere,” Rachel repeated. “Nathan’s been killed. There’s going to be a funeral. I can’t... I can’t... go.” She shook her head slowly. Her heart was in her throat, but she knew what she had to do.