She went back inside and into her bathroom. She opened a cabinet and took out a long plastic wand with a metal tip on one end and a rectangular screen on the handle at the other end. For the past few days, she’d been feeling sick. For the most part, she had avoided thinking about the possibility, but now that the crisis was over, the thought kept nagging at her.
She used the wand according to the instructions, and when she was finished, she held it in her hand, covering the small display screen with her thumb. Did she really want to know yet? She could just press the reset button on the bottom and put the wand away.
Kate sat there for several minutes. She couldn’t bring herself to hit the reset button but was afraid to look at the screen. She wanted both possibilities to be true in equal measure. If she were pregnant, she would always have a part of Rick, a reminder that for a brief period of time they had loved one another unconditionally. If she weren’t, there wouldn’t be the sorrow of raising a child who had never known his or her father.
How long would it be before the wand automatically reset itself? She reached for the box to read the instructions, but the wand slipped out of her hand as she did so. It clattered to the floor and landed face up, displaying a light blue plus sign followed by the number seven.
Kate grabbed at it and closed her fist around the handle, but she had already seen it. She was pregnant, and it was a boy. Seven weeks. She tossed the wand onto the bathroom counter and got up. She moved to the living room sofa and sat there, staring at the corner. After she recovered from the shock, her first thought was that she would name the baby Richard, after his father. But that idea was soon replaced by the realization that Rick would have chosen a different name for his son: Frank. She put her hand on her stomach.
She had extended family on Silvanus but no one here. There were a handful of casual friends, but none she felt really close to. At this moment of what should have been great joy, she felt only sorrow. She had no one to share the news with.
But that wasn’t entirely true. She picked up her handheld and scrolled through her contacts until she got to Jenny’s name. She’d known her only a week, but they had spent that entire week alone, with no one else around, and helping each other through the terror of what was happening. Suddenly, the promise to stay in touch took on a new significance. It wasn’t just something to say, a half-promise that you meant at the time but forgot about after a few weeks. Jenny was the only person on Faris Kate could truly call a friend. And aside from Rick, she was the only person Kate wanted to see right now.
She hit the call button.
Jenny answered. “Kate?”
Kate smiled. “Hi, Jenny. Did you hear from your brother?”
“Yes! He and his family are all right.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” She paused. “Listen, do you think you could come over here?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. I just need a friend right now. And I know we barely know each other, but….”
“Stop right there,” Jenny said. “We went through a lot together, and I’m here for you no matter what. Send me your address, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Kate thanked her and hung up. She messaged her address to Jenny and got up to put on a pot of coffee. Was she even supposed to have coffee? She knew nothing about babies. She had a lot to learn, but at least she wouldn’t have to do it alone.
37
COMMANDER DAVID PICKETT made his way through the hospital and found the room he was looking for. He knocked and entered.
Lieutenant James Kern looked up and smiled. “Hello, Dave.”
“Jim. They have you on the mend?”
“It’s mainly just a precaution. I was knocked out when they rescued me. Severe head trauma, they said, but the doctor is optimistic.”
“How do you feel?”
“Non-stop migraines since I woke up, but they’re diminishing day by day.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You got out unscathed?” Kern asked.
Pickett sat in a chair next to the hospital bed. “I ran out of fuel just after the big alien ship exploded. Since I was still in my fighter and uninjured, it took almost a full day for them to get to me.”
“I wish I had seen it blow. I remember getting hit. A missile struck the port side of my ship, and I went spinning. God, Dave, seeing the flames burst through the side of the cockpit like that… I thought I was done for. But the ship ejected me. I remember watching as I flew toward a large piece of debris; it looked like the nose section of an F-88. They say it’s a miracle the impact didn’t breach the helmet, but it jostled my brain around pretty good. The next thing I knew, I was in this place.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you here. I saw that you had ejected but didn’t know if you’d be okay.”
Kern shifted in his bed to sit up. “They tell me only a few dozen got off the Vigilant.”
Pickett nodded. “Thirty-two.”
“And Admiral Long is dead.”
“He went down with the ship. Most of the bridge crew made it out, and they said he did everything he could, up to the last second.”
“Did anyone expect anything different?”
“No, I suppose not.”
Kern cleared his throat. “So we don’t have a ship anymore. What do they plan to do with us?”
“With hyperspace gone, there’s not much point in building another ship like the Vigilant. They might build a couple small ships that hold maybe a dozen fighters, but that’ll take years. We’re not really needed for the time being. The Earth-based squadrons didn’t lose a whole lot of men. There’s nowhere for them to put us.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” said Kern. “I don’t know if I ever want to get back behind the controls of an F-66.”
“I’m thinking the same thing.”
Kern laughed. “Who ever thought we’d be considering retirement at this age?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find something to do. There’s a lot of rebuilding to be done. Maybe I can get a job piloting a construction or supply ship.”
“You mean sitting back and letting the autopilot do all the work?”
Pickett laughed. “Why not?”
“Oh,” said Kern, “I hear you’re going to be decorated.”
“Yeah, they somehow got the idea that I was the one responsible for bringing down the alien ship.”
“I’ve read the reports, Dave. You were responsible. You noticed that their shield was down and organized the final attack.”
“If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. I didn’t do anything extraordinary.”
“God, I hate false modesty. You’re a hero, Dave. You’d better get used to the idea.”
Pickett laughed again. “Apparently, the concussion hasn’t impaired your ability to disrespect a senior officer.”
Kern executed a crisp salute. “Well, if nothing else, they can at least bump me into a higher pay grade before they retire me.”
“I wouldn’t mind that either.”
Kern’s smile faded. “Tell me something, Dave.”
“What?”
“Do you think hyperspace is really gone? For good?”
“I don’t know, Jim. Your folks are on Virdis, aren’t they?”
Kern nodded. “Last message I got from home was to say my sister was getting married. They were postponing it so I could be there. I’d applied for leave just before all this went down.”
“I’m sorry, Jim.”
“You have any family off-planet?”
“No. I’m from Earth.”
“Your parents make it through all right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Dave. I’m all alone here now. Maybe I could come for Christmas dinner.”
Pickett looked up. Kern was smiling again. “Of course. You’ll always be welcome.”
“You got a sister?”
Pickett laughed out loud. “Yes, but she’s m
arried.”
Kern waved his hand dismissively. “That’s all right. I have my eye on a couple of the nurses here anyway.” He closed his eyes. Pickett could see he was in pain.
“You need to rest?”
“Yeah. The migraine’s getting worse. The pills they have me on cut the pain in half, but they also put me right out. I think I’ll take one.”
Pickett stood. “I’m going to see that you get that promotion. You did well up there, Jim.”
“Did I?”
“You took out four of them before you were hit. That plus the two from the first battle makes a total of six. You’re an ace.”
“And how many did you get, Commander?”
“I’m not really sure.”
“There’s that false modesty again.”
Pickett sighed. “Between both battles… thirteen.”
“Lucky thirteen.”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you get so many, Dave?”
“Honestly… I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like it wasn’t even me out there. It’s like a dream.”
“I know what you mean. When you’re in that cockpit and the bullets and missiles are flying… you’re someone else.”
Pickett nodded. “Maybe. But now we’re us again. We made it, Jim. Whatever else happened, we made it.”
“The only two fighter pilots from the Vigilant.”
“Yeah.” Pickett lowered his eyes. “Look, when you get out of here, we’ll drink a round to those who didn’t make it.”
“Just one?”
Pickett put his hand on Kern’s shoulder. “You’re right. They deserve more than that. We’ll figure something out.”
Pickett got Kern a glass of water and watched him take his pain pill. He closed the window blinds and waited for the lieutenant to drift off before he left, gently closing the door behind him. By the time Pickett got down to the lobby of the hospital, he knew how he would honor his fallen comrades. Every drink he had for the rest of his life, he would make a silent toast to the Vigilant and her departed crew.
38
WHEN JEFF IVES returned home after visiting Sullivan, Gail was waiting for him. She’d spent the day tracking down her family members and greeted Ives with the news that they were all fine.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. He awkwardly gave her a peck on the cheek. They’d spent the night together, but the situation was still strange and new to him.
“That was romantic,” she teased.
“Sorry. I’ve never been that comfortable in new relationships. Just give me a little time.” He pulled her close. “Try this.” He kissed her deeply, running his hands along her back. One hand found her thigh and lifted her leg so she could wrap it around his waist.
She smiled as the kiss ended. “That’s better.” She took his hand and led him to the couch.
“I looked in on the second floor on my way up,” Ives said. “The engineers say there was no structural damage, so we won’t have to vacate the building.”
“That’s good. I feel bad for those families whose apartments were destroyed. And worse…. I’m so relieved I got ahold of everyone. I feel so lucky. I mean, I lost people… some neighbors… but no one really close.” She frowned. “That sounds horrible. Like their lives are less….”
“Stop right there,” Ives said. “You can’t do that. None of this survivor’s guilt, okay?”
Gail nodded. “I didn’t mean to say I feel guilty. Well, maybe a little. It’s just that I know a lot of people lost loved ones. Far too many.”
“Look,” Ives said, “if not for you, there would have been many more who died. You saved a lot of people in your building as well as the people we gathered here.”
“I just wish I could have done more.”
“I told you about how I lost my partner on Abilene when we were first looking for Rick Sullivan.”
“John, right?”
“Yes. John Takemitsu. We were partners for three years. More than partners. Friends. He was a good man. Ethical, kind, great sense of humor. Absolutely committed to the Bureau. After he died, I was in a really bad place. Over and over I went through the circumstances surrounding his death. How he shouldn’t have been sent around to the back of that bar by himself. How we should have known the shooter would head that way when we were approaching from the front. Stupid little things. Things we couldn’t have known at the time. We had to make split-second decisions. We’re trained for that sort of thing, to quickly evaluate a situation and weigh the options, but training only goes so far. There’s no way to ever know for sure what the right decision is.”
Gail put her hand on his cheek.
“Well, I had a long trip back to Earth. It was a beat-up old freighter. Small, uncomfortable bunks. Basic just-add-water rations. I was already feeling terrible, and the surroundings did nothing to improve my mood.
“I was escorting the bodies of two of my fellow agents home. It was a long time to think about them lying there, cold and dead in the cargo hold while I was still alive. Frank Allen had… gone on vacation. Except for the freighter pilot and one other passenger, I was alone. They were no good for conversation.
“And I kept thinking about whether I could have done more to save John or to even prevent the entire situation from occurring. I began to obsess over it. They say people can go a little nutty on those long trips between planets. Well, it doesn’t help if you get on the ship already that way. I was in a really bad place, Gail. By the time I got back to Earth, I needed to take a few weeks’ leave. Director Blanco understood.
“I holed up in my apartment for a couple of days, but Bureau regulations mandated that I receive counseling, so I went out for that. The counseling session was okay, but as I was coming back home, something lifted. I saw all these people around me. I knew some of them had gone through terrible things in the past. But people were smiling, talking to one another. Making plans. Looking forward to the future.
“I had to pull myself out of it, not just for me, but so I could properly honor John’s memory. The best way I could do that would be to go back to work. To help people. To continue doing what he’d dedicated his life to.
“Could I have done something different, something that could have saved him? Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. I’d done what I could at the time, and every day I will continue to do what I can to make the world just a little better, a little brighter. After all this, people are going to need it more than ever.”
Gail looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Jeff. And I’ll be right beside you.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “I’m glad to hear it. And the point of all this is to let you know that I’m here for you, too. I know you need to work your way through this, but don’t feel guilty for the things you did or didn’t do. I didn’t have anyone to tell me that on that freighter, and it was hard. But you’re not alone.” He looked into her eyes. “You’ll never be alone again.”
Gail leaned into him and held him tightly. “And all this time, you were just three blocks away.”
Ives laughed lightly. “Not anymore.”
39
THE MESSAGE CAME as something of a surprise. Father Curtis sat in his office, absorbing the information. Brother Peter was dead. Unable to locate his family, the authorities had turned to Curtis in the hope that he could help them.
Curtis turned and looked out his window. Located far from any cities, the monastic community had made it through the invasion without any significant disruption to their way of life. Curtis had instructed the monks to pray, and now that the worst of it was over, most of them had been dispatched to nearby cities to help with the recovery effort and to provide solace to those who requested it.
Outside his window, a single monk was tending to a row of tomato plants. Curtis turned back to his desk and wiped away the tears. Brother Peter had always enjoyed gardening.
He cleared his eyes and looked back at the message on his screen. He hadn’t made it past the first paragraph. As he continued reading,
the loss hit him even harder. Peter had died protecting a small boy who had fled and been separated from his parents when the aliens attacked their village.
The boy’s story was just now going public—there had been many such acts of heroism during the invasion—but Curtis knew that the fact that Peter had already been such a well-known person before the attack would ensure significant media attention.
Curtis smiled through his tears. He had always known what kind of a man Peter was. He hoped his death in defense of the defenseless would do something to change the public’s perception of the man who had killed Pope Pius.
Curtis got up from his chair and left his office. The monastery was eerily quiet. There were only two other monks beside himself still on the premises. He walked into the lounge and looked over a chess board, a game left unfinished when he’d gathered the monks and begun assigning them their new duties. He studied the board. If it was white’s turn to move, the game was lost for black. But if black was set to move, he could still save himself.
Curtis thought about how often he had seen Brother Peter and Brother Mark squaring off across the board. He thought about Peter’s uncertainty when the visions first started occurring, how he had been so nervous when called to Rome to meet the Pope. And seeing him in that prison, so defeated and in despair… it had pained Curtis to have to write to Peter to let him know the Cenobian Brotherhood had decided to break their ties with him. Peter had deserved better.
Father Curtis turned to the lounge window. From there he could see the small cemetery where past monks had been laid to rest. Peter would receive the same honor.
Curtis returned to his office and began drafting a letter to his superiors. He would not rest until they agreed to let Peter’s body be returned to the monastery for burial. Curtis would show the world that even though the Brotherhood had turned their backs on Peter, they would acknowledge their mistake. Peter would be vindicated, and he would be remembered as a true man of God.
Sullivan Saga 3: Sullivan's Watch Page 16