DayStar: Immortals Among Us (The Delphi Countdown trilogy Book 1)

by JB Penrose

  “You should find something comfortable in here, and the bathroom is through that door.”

  “I would appreciate a bubble bath about now.” Rachel set down on the edge of the bed, the weariness beginning to take its toll on her energy.

  “Go ahead.” Peter kissed her forehead. “A long bath is exactly what you need. I want to check around the place. When you’re ready, I’ll fix a cup of my clam chowder.”

  “Real or replicated?”

  “Real,” he told her. “Make yourself at home. After all, it is, now.”

  “Home is where the heart is,” she called over her shoulder and headed for the bath.

  Friday

  December 30, 2044

  “Ahhh! Coffee!” Rachel shuffled into the kitchen wearing pajamas she found in a bureau drawer last night.

  “I knew this would get you up.” Peter kissed her and planted a warm cup in her hands. She could see he loved his cabin; he looked happiest in his kitchen and he had obviously been cooking all morning. Scones and muffins cooled on the counter, and her produced a covered dish with an omlette garnished with fruit. She sat to properly appreciate of his efforts.

  There was a brick oven in the center-cooking island and a stovetop with generous counter space. A long table ran the length of one side, surrounded by buffets and hutches with china settings for the most elegant banquet. Modern appliances were installed against the rustic walls, convenient with a desk area and wetbar.

  Peter directed Rachel to the breakfast nook at the bay window. A deck outside overlooked the pond on the south side of the cabin.

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Like a baby. I don’t remember anything after my bath.”

  Peter laughed. “I went to make sure you hadn’t drowned and found you asleep on the divan.”

  “I think I sat down to put my slippers on.” Rachel ran her fingers through her hair and tried to wake up. “I guess it’s not the honeymoon night you had planned.”

  Suddenly, reality seemed stranger than truth. She was married! One glance to her hand was all the proof she needed, and she laughed outloud.

  “Something funny?” Peter asked.

  “Not really. I was just admiring my ring.”

  Peter held out his hand. “I like my ring, too. By the way, how did you do that?”

  She knew he wouldn’t understand her answer. She didn’t understand it herself. There was a place inside her mind, or more inside her heart, like a flowing stream she could tap into, and when she tapped into it she had the faith what she desired would materialize.

  “A good magician never reveals her tricks.” The small TV at the counter diverted her attention. “What’s happened?”

  President Wilson left yesterday for New Jerusalem to speak at the second opening of the OneWorld Conference delegation. He is reported to have evidence from Frank Morrow, head of the Bureau of Global Affairs, about the conference bombing five days ago that killed President-elect Young and his wife, evidence rumored to implicate PROBE-Tech’s founder, John Reider.

  Rachel slammed her coffee cup on the counter. Peter covered her hands with his own. “We will expose the lies, don’t worry.”

  Sources speculate President Wilson will ask the OneWorld delegates for help in locating and trapping the PROBE-Tech spaceship, Aurora. Observatories around the world have confirmed the ship’s launch, but satellites have not been able to pinpoint any location where it might have passed through the atmosphere, feeding the rumors of damage, somehow.

  The Aurora’s launch was three days early, and without FAA clearance. BGA authorities were on the scene attempting to serve a warrant for questioning at the time of launch.

  Although President-elect Scott Cauthron has assured the OneWorld conference of his complete support, without John Reider no one will confirm that the information trade-off will still happen even though the treaty has been signed. Tensions are high on all sides.

  Scott Cauthron returned from New Jerusalem last night with the bodies of Nathan and Li’Ana Young. Funeral arrangements have not yet been announced.

  Sher Lindeman will have a report tonight at ten, on the only vice president to become President before the president-elect was inaugurated. The 20th Amendment provides for just this situation.

  Peter turned the sound off and poured more coffee in their cups. “This is exactly what John always thought would happen.”

  “We’d better get busy.” Rachel finished a piece of toast. “I should call Scott.”

  “Have you got a plan?”

  “Not until I talk to Scott! What do you think? Should we call or visit?”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Rachel reached for Peter’s phone and dialed Scott Cauthron’s answering service. She tapped her pen nervously on the desk while they transferred her to his personal assistant.

  “Miss Bolton? He’s in a meeting, but I think it’s going to end early. Can you get here right away? I might be able to fit you in between appointments.”

  “I'm on my way,” Rachel said and hung up. “We need to hurry.”

  “Good idea, love. We’ll head straight to the lion’s den.”

  * * *

  Gail Richards re-read the news article of how President Wilson, or more probably Frank, was pressing for access to PROBE-Tech files before critical evidence pertaining to the conference bombing is lost or destroyed. She wasn’t convinced there could be anything in PROBE-Tech research that pertained to the bombing, and she certainly didn’t blame the Aurora for launching early. Frank had done everything possible to stop John Reider.

  Frank Morrow hadn’t been seen for days but he was still making his presence known. He convinced President Wilson to give the BGA sole control of the investigation, but the standoff at PROBE-Tech was just short of a military confrontation. BGA agents were posted with PROBE-Tech security at each building but not allowed inside until a court could rule, after the conference, just who had jurisdiction.

  President-elect Cauthron, on the other hand, was trying his best to keep PROBE-Tech’s ambassadorial status with authority over their own research records. Giving a single government, even his own government, sole possession of the research information was clearly against the OneWorld charter. At least the conference would continue and the treaty would soon be signed.

  A buzz from the intercom startled her. Gail activated the speaker. “Mr. Morrow’s office.”

  “This is the security desk. There’s a Rachel Bolton, and Peter Kerroon, here to see President-elect Cauthron, but Mr. Morrow has a security stop on both names. Director Morrow hasn’t been in today; how should I direct her request?”

  Rachel Bolton and Professor Kerroon? What were they doing here?

  With the case Frank was building against John Reider, any information these people produced on the crew’s behalf would be buried. She knew best how deceptive Frank Morrow could be. That thought prompted surreal courage and Gail’s heart raced.

  “Bring them to my office. I'll handle this for Mr. Morrow.” Gail tried to keep her voice calm.

  When the security guard finally opened the door to her office Gail let go her pent breath and presented her most uninterested smile.

  Rachel’s trench coat was tied at the waist and revealed only soft leather boots under it, out of place for today’s snow. She carried a large satchel. Her escort was dressed comfortably in a varsity sweatshirt and denim, just as out of place for normal White House attire, and he carried an old leather valise.

  “Thank you, Alejandro.” Gail came around from her desk and motioned the visitors to chairs. “Come in, please. I have the document Mr. Morrow spoke with you about.” She hoped Rachel would play along with her charade.

  “Sure you don’t need any help?” Raul eyed them both suspiciously; Gail responded with a bland look.

  “They’re not criminals. Mr. Morrow only needed Ms. Bolton’s signature on something.”

  “Well, all right.” The guard reluctantly s
hut the door between them.

  Gail leaned against it breathing hard, her excitement heightened. “Miss Bolton? And you are Professor Kerroon?” She spoke so fast she wasn’t waiting for an answer. “I don’t really think you want to talk to Frank Morrow.”

  “You’re right.” Rachel told her. “We’re here to see Scott Cauthron. I’m not sure why we’re in this office at all.”

  “It’s lucky for all of us that you are. If Frank has limited your security access you’ll be stopped everywhere you go,” Gail said. “There’s not a lot of time to explain it. I want to help you; trust me. I have some information I think you’ll want to know about, but we really shouldn’t talk here.”

  “Why should we trust you?” Peter was suspicious.

  “Please. But we shouldn’t talk here. Bugs!” She mouthed the term for hidden microphones.

  “I trust you.” Rachel surprised Peter with her support. She nodded to Gail and stood. “Do you have somewhere we can go?”

  Gail nodded. She grabbed her purse and dug around inside for her keys as she headed out the door. They followed her into the hallway attempting to appear casual on their way to the parking lot.

  “I just moved into a new apartment. No one knows my address, yet.” Gail used the remote to unlock the doors to her mini-van ahead of their quick advance.

  Rachel sat next to her on the passenger side; Peter sat in the back and kept watch behind them. He was vigilant but not paranoid, which made Gail feel slightly better. She felt a true sense of purpose in helping them escape. Escape from what, she wasn’t sure.

  It was a quiet ride. Any question Gail tried to ask was hushed by Rachel’s hand on her arm. Each touch felt like an electric charge.

  “Not just yet,” the melodic voice instructed whenever Gail tried to pose a question. “You said it was close?”

  Gail nodded.

  “Let’s go there. Then we can talk unhindered.”

  Gail slipped her key in the lock and opened the door. “Honey, I’m home,” she announced after the door to her small apartment closed.

  Peter stepped inside and looked around cautiously.

  “It’s all right,” she told them. “We’re alone, sort of.”

  A large yellow tabby cat padded into the hall and meowed. It danced lazily between her legs.

  “Yes, Honey, I’m early.” She picked up and hugged the cat as she led them into her apartment. “And I’ve brought friends. Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Moving boxes were stacked everywhere leaving only an aisle to walk through the small apartment. In a corner, a desk and chair were layered with infodisks from magazines and newspapers. A menorah graced the fireplace mantle, and provided the only sense of being moved in.

  Gail led the way to the kitchen, which was a catch-all for everything displaced from the living room. Honey jumped from her arms to the counter and Gail pulled two short glasses from the cabinet.

  “I need a stiff drink.” She filled them with milk and finished her own without a pause. Honey drank on the counter.

  “Would you like some milk?” she refilled her glass. “Or I could make some coffee.”

  “Coffee,” Peter said as he entered. “Now you’ve found her weak spot.” He slipped his arm around Rachel’s waist and smiled.

  “Whose weak spot?” Rachel teased.

  “I’ll wait in the living room,” Peter told her. “I’d like to check what’s going on with the Aurora.”

  “Gail and I will only be a minute,” Rachel smiled as he left.

  There was something beautiful about the way they looked at each other. Gail saw it at the office, too; how Peter was as protective as he was loving, and how Rachel was as important as she was non-assuming. Gail concentrated on measuring the coffee and tried to keep her nerves under control. After all, Rachel and Peter seemed relaxed enough. Still, Gail couldn’t help feeling as though she was jumping off a cliff.

  “That was a big risk you took, helping us.” Rachel said. “Your boss is not the kind of man I would want as an enemy.”

  “Going against Frank is never smart but it was the only thing I could do under the circumstances. Something strange is going on and Frank is at the bottom of it.” Her words tumbled out all at once.

  “How do you think that concerns us?”

  “I found your names in a file on Frank’s computer and I think you’re all in danger. I have proof that he set the whole thing up! The bombing, I mean, and how he is putting the blame on John Reider.”

  “You have proof?” Rachel asked, excited.

  “I think so.”

  “Peter needs to hear this,” she said. “Then we’ll figure out what to do together.” Rachel stopped her before she could ask next question. “You said you trust us. Can we just leave it like that for now? Besides,” she smiled encouragingly, “we’re much better at explaining as we go along.”

  Gail’s trembling hands spilled the coffee when she lifted the tray. She gladly passed it to Rachel and followed her into the living room.

  The drapes were closed and Peter huddled over a strange blue globe. He looked up and smiled at their interruption. Without a word of conversation he wrapped the globe in a cloth and placed it in the valise he carried. Gail sat where Rachel indicated, between her and the professor on the sofa, and tried to appear calm.

  “Why did you help us?” Peter asked her first.

  There was nothing intimidating about his tone of voice. His question was more like casual curiosity. Gail was suddenly shy.

  “I know you are friends of John Reider, and I know Frank Morrow is not. I heard him on the phone with someone plotting to kill Commander Reider and I think he’s responsible for the bombing, too.”

  “I think you should tell us everything you know.” Peter leaned forward, and just as instinctually, Gail drew back.

  “You mentioned a list with our names?” Rachel encouraged.

  “I’m a resource programmer.” Gail started with a deep breath. “I assemble information for the Bureau of Global Affairs, the BGA. Frank Morrow is my boss.”

  “What kind of information?” Peter asked.

  “All kinds; everything. I’m pretty good with a computer.” She shook her head and tried to concentrate. “I was working late on Christmas Eve and Frank came into the office to make a private phone call. He thought I had gone home, but I forgot my keys and went back into the office. I overheard him on the phone. He said the usual arrangements had been made as cover for this person as a BGA translator, and since he had to place it somewhere, he might as well take out John Reider, too.”

  “Who else have you told this to?” Peter asked.

  “No one else. Who would believe me against the Director of the BGA? But now, I think I can link him to someone named Jude Iscar.”

  “You’ve got a connection between Morrow and Iscar?” Peter sounded excited. “Tell me more.”

  “I think that’s who he was talking to on the phone, about the bombing. I cross-referenced the names of conference workers against actual payroll files and found someone not on the payroll, a linguist for the BGA. Jude Iscar.” She smiled at her own cleverness.

  “That’s good work. And you haven’t told anyone?” Peter confirmed.

  “The person I’m supposed to report to, Frank Morrow, is the person I trust the least. I really didn’t know what to do until you showed up.”

  “You said our names were on a list,” Rachel prompted. “Tell us about that. Is it something of Frank’s?”

  “Frank has a program to, well, spy on what information I access. I wormed my way backward into Frank’s computer using that program hoping to find something that would link him to the identity of the imposter linguist, but that’s not what I found.” She drank her coffee in several big gulps before she continued. “Frank has a file from the PROBE-Tech log entries. I found both of your names on a list of people who had access to the Aurora.”

  “What else did you find in the file?” Peter asked.

  Gail smiled. “I used th
e names from the entry logs to cross-reference security levels of others with the same clearance. For instance, I can tell you that Rachel has been in the hangar where the Aurora is – was, and also that Jude Iscar had the clearance to go there but never did. Neither did Mary Mag’Dalyn or James Zebede. Why the biblical names?”

  “It’s a kind of code,” Peter explained vaguely.

  “Why didn’t you launch with them? I know you’re Mr. Pierzon’s brother.” Gail asked Rachel. “Is that why the Aurora hasn’t left the atmosphere yet? Are you the Mary Mag’Dalyn on the list?”

  “No, she’s my mother.” Rachel sighed visibly. “The Aurora was damaged and they have to hide somewhere until Andrew and John come back with repair materials.”

  Gail jumped up. “They can’t come here. Frank has spies everywhere.”

  “That’s where I think you can help,” Rachel said.

  “We can’t get her involved,” Peter immediately objected.

  “She’s already involved.” Rachel told him. “And we need to accept help where it’s offered. Finding that file in Frank’s computer will do a lot to expose his true motives. Now we just need to get it into the hands of the right people before Frank deletes the information.”

  Gail reached for her purse. “I made a copy.”

  Peter retrieved the disk and whistled appreciatively. “You are a good girl.”

  “I want to help.” Gail sat again; anticipating her next instructions would come from Rachel. “I feel like I have to.”