by Michael Priv
The line moved as we began boarding the freighter. The stupid five-thousand-year-long mission was finally over. I stared into Linda’s eyes.
“Hey, Grach, time to go, man,” one of the A5B guys yelled to me. We were holding the line now.
“Can’t come, fellas,” I replied, lost in Linda’s eyes. “My girlfriend won’t let me.”
58 About time for a new mission —this time with some actual purpose behind it. I was tired of the old one. I gazed at the beautiful sky and the rising sun out the window of Stan’s Lear jet, Linda’s hand in mine.
“Wasn’t that old Indian wonderful?” Linda asked. He sure was. “God wakes up after a long sleep. He yawns. He reaches for the stars,” the old Tolowa Indian had said. The space freighter took off right as we gathered on the forest clearing, a quarter of a mile away from the base among a small crowd of locals, waiting for the base to explode. There we beheld the majestic sight of the top of the hill opening in the murky white of dawn. The spaceship blasted out into the sky, then seemed to have stopped way up high and took off like a lightning from there.
That is when the old native said, “God wakes up after a long sleep. He yawns. He reaches for the stars.”
Yes, God sure does reach for the stars. But he must wake up first.
Linda and I were now aboard Stan’s Leer jet, lost comfortably in the huge arm chairs. “Can’t reach for the stars unless you wake up,” I told Linda. She nodded, probably remembering her lessons at the School in Cambodia. I was lost in her happy eyes again.
“Waking up is fun,” she replied softly, caressing my hand. “Don’t waste your time on poetry , you two. Are you done with your mission briefing?” Stan asked from his seat, working away on his laptop, his wife, Zhdana, crestfallen after the loss of her son, next to him. “Spot-check in five minutes,” he added.
“I have this terrible pain in my ass, Stan,” I replied lazily. “Any idea what that might be?” Linda chuckled, and then coughed uncomfortably, probably remembered certain things regarding that particular part of Stan’s body. She averted her eyes full of mischief.
I felt good, relaxed. On our way to Manila again, looking for Brell to join his School and help him set people free. Liran and the guys would be happy to see us; I knew that. The anticipation made me smile.
“Alesh, do you have any special wish in your new life now?” Linda asked.
“Gonna find me a girlfriend,” Alesh replied from his seat, staring at the ceiling dreamily. “A big one.”
“Good,” Zhdana, nodded approvingly from her seat. “About time, too.” “How big?” I asked .
Alesh spread his hands about four feet apart. “About this big.” “Caramel like Linda?” I inquired.
“Maybe.” Alesh nodded, blushing and uneasy. He must’ve had a crush on her all along. Sure, he has. Who wouldn’t? Linda chuckled. “That’ll be easy,” she assured Alesh with an affectionate glint in her eyes. “Any girl of any size and color would love you. You just have to refrain from killing people long enough for her to get to know you.”
Alesh smiled back, recovering after my question but still a little red in the face. “I carry out my missions, that’s all,” he explained. “I like missions.”
“That’ll be fine then,” Linda assured him. “ I like this mission in particular.” I nodded toward a stack of cardboard bankers boxes filled with packs of one hundred-dollar bills. Maybe about three million dollars’ worth. Give or take.
“I have money in accounts all over the world,” Stan explained. “We won’t starve, that’s for sure. And Brell will be even happier to see us with all the money. Have to nail that criminal rehab thing he is doing, put it under Murabi Crown, make it a safe and organized activity.”
Linda squeezed my hand happily. I loved it, too. “There is nothing like a well -financed and interesting mission that really helps people, is there?” I asked Alesh and nearly jumped off my seat. Here it was! I’d suddenly got it. All I was looking for was a mission that helped people—preferably interesting and wellfinanced, but not necessarily. The mission all by itself would provide the purpose and activities that made one’s endless existence meaningful. Wow! Hey,Droog,I think I got a boatto float!
My heart squeezed hard as I remembered my friend, Droog, Bill Hall, loyal to the end, and the beautiful doctor, Jane Rosenthal, one hell of a trooper. I also saw my dear Yvette taking a bath in a saucer. Lots of death and losses. Although not permanent, just a part of the drama, they felt excruciatingly real. They werereal. Goodbye for now, my friends.
“All missions are interesting,” Alesh replied.
“But this one will help people. That’s the best kind, right?” I asked.
“Could be,” Alesh agreed. “I never tried missions that helped. I just usually kill people. Love this planet, man. It’s ca-a-arazy!” Together we gazed at the sunrise through the airplane window, Linda’s warm hand in mine, welcoming the arrival of a new day, a new page in the endless Book of Life, a new glorious chapter in the life on planet P-3, Earth.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in the Soviet Ukraine, against considerable odds Michael Priv arrived to the USA in 1979. He went on to graduate the University of Pittsburgh, PA, to become a Construction Engineer. Currently employed by a major insurance company as an adjustor, Michael resides with his family in Northern California. Since 1987 Michael had been an avid student of Eastern religions. He had achieved quite remarkable abilities in psychic healing. Michael's writing career started with the publication of his first novel, Friends of Fred, available on Amazon. As one of his greatest accomplishments, Michael is proud of having ghost-written a romance novel, an experience he characterized as “an eye-popping adventure and a must for any man.” Eleven of his short stories, always marked with lighthearted view of life and a spark of spirituality, had been published in various literary magazines. Michael is currently working on releasing a collection of his short stories, The RotoRooter, and a non-fiction research account of 28 religions with the working title The Secrets. The Fifth Battalion is Michael’s first Sci-Fi novel.
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