Eyes Love & Water

by Pamela Foland

  Tina looked up, in her hand was indeed a food packet. “Good, I'm okay too.” Tina said in the slowly enunciated tone used with mental deficients.

  Her response set Ben checking to confirm Daniel was in the room. Ben's search turned up empty. He blinked twice and tentatively reached for the voice in the only other possible place. “Daniel?” Ben thought to his friend.

  “Yeah.”

  “You can hear me?” Ben inquired.

  “Uh, duh, yes.”

  “I thought I was on a suppresser,” Ben squirmed internally.

  “It's done its job. Where are you? Daniel tinged his mental voice with urgency.

  “I'm in the medical center, with Tina. We've been going over the factor-packs.”

  “Oh good, you gotten to the pop pads yet? If so, what's the number on yours?” Daniel flashed an image of himself licking the point of a pencil and holding it to a pad of paper in readiness for Ben's response.

  Ben dug through the pile for the pop-pad. Belatedly he noticed Tina sitting stiffly with white knuckled fingers latched around the Mylar wrapped food packet. Her eyes showed a deep hurt that told Ben she knew his telepathy was working again.

  Ben groped for an apology, or at least a few words to make her feel better. That failing he answered her unasked question. “It's a food packet for when you get hungry.” He reached out to take it from her. She limply released it. He packed it away in the unlocked main compartment and found the pop-pad.

  “So who is it?” She finally asked.

  “Daniel, he wants to know my pop-pad number.” Ben answered turning the pad over in his hands.

  “Four, eight, two, seven, one, F,” Tina answered, just moments before Ben found it. He cocked his head and looked at her. “Photographic memory,” Tina answered without a question.

  Ben relayed the number to Daniel. Almost immediately the thing began to vibrate in Ben's hands. He tapped the corner of the screen twice, like Tina had shown him, and was greeted by Daniel's face.

  “Hand me to Tina,” Daniel ordered, Ben complied. Ben couldn't hear Daniel's side of the conversation, but he did hear Tina's.

  “He's checked out on almost everything... I don't know about that, you should talk to Gene... Personally I think probably, if it's short and simple... Okay, here Ben he wants to talk to you.” Tina handed the pop pad back to Ben.

  “Hey, Ben, would you like to go kick some bad guy butt?” Daniel asked the moment Ben saw his face, “Angie has an important job for us on a world which close paralleled yours until the cult case. Now it has its own problems. Of course, you'll need to get checked out by Gene first, but Tina sounds optimistic.”

  Ben looked blankly at the screen for a minute. “Okay,” Ben said unsure of anything else to say. Thankfully Gene arrived before Ben had to say anything more.

  “Gene just got here. Do you want to talk to him?” Tina asked wedging her head between Ben and the screen.

  “Yeah,” Daniel answered. Tina yanked the pop-pad from Ben's hands and handed it to Gene. Gene took it and retreated through a door to his office. Ben heard none of the conversation, save for the muffled sound of Gene's raised voice.

  “Don't worry. Daniel will win Gene over. With your field requirement out of the way then you're just the verbal exam away from full certification,” Tina started sorting the pile by the pocket where the items belonged. When Ben made no move to stuff the sorted piles into the appropriate pocket she elbowed him. “I can't open them, it's your bag.” Ben shook himself and began stuffing the piles in the appropriate pockets. His eyes remained on the door to Gene’s office.

  “Pay attention,” Tina slapped Ben on the hand as he began to put items that belonged in a locked pocket into its un-lockable cousin one, “You do that and not only wont you be able to find it when you need it, but any lucky pick pocket can take it.”

  Ben looked down at his hands and undid his mistake. “So, how does this work?”

  “The bag or the field assignment?”

  “The field assignment, I am way beyond wanting to know how this thing works.” Ben lifted the pack.

  “I’m not entirely sure. I never got to that point, though I had been in training long enough that I should have been out three times by now. It’s the curse of having a mother who is the aunt of the Chief.”

  “And over protective,” Ben offered.

  “Yeah,” Tina answered with a dipped head. She was interrupted by Gene’s explosive reentry.

  “Damn bull headed twits! I don’t know why I let them bully me!” Gene growled. He handed the pop-pad back to Ben.

  Ben looked down at the screen and saw Angela’s face had replaced Daniel’s. She took advantage of his momentary shocked silence to monopolize the exchange. “Hello Benjamin, I need you to do me a huge favor, but before Gene signs off on it I have to fully explain it to you.”

  She sighed heavily and continued in a lecturing tone, “I need you to go on this mission, for the potential contacts you have to offer. It in a sense was your world up until you began investigating the cult case, then the ways parted. It was spared overt dark action then, but has since received their delicate attention. Seven years ago, their time, they were invaded and have suffered through dark occupation all this time. It’s unusual for the dark ones to be so open in their action for so long. I need to know why. You have contacts there so I need you to use them. It’s a dangerous assignment, and you may run into your alternate self, something which I try to avoid, but I need information.” She stopped.

  Ben blinked at Angela’s image, processed the information, and looked at Tina. Tina smiled at him and gave him two thumbs up. Over her shoulder, Gene glared at the pop-pad. “Angela, can I get back to you on this?”

  It was Angela’s turn to blink at the screen. Then she let loose an expression of surprise, from which Ben gathered that she had expected him to leap at the opportunity to do her a favor. “Yes, but remember time is passing more quickly there.” Ben saw her hand tap the screen, which then went blank.

  “Gene, what is your honest medical opinion, given my telepathic condition, am I up to it?”

  Gene’s face went from sour to smile, “Will you take it? What am I saying- of course You will. The truth is, yes. I just don’t like sending people out to face them. I've been through their worst, only an unexpected ally got me out of their hands. I don’t like thinking about what could happen out there.”

  “Call her back. Call her back,” Tina prodded.

  Ben toyed with letting Angela twist in the wind but seeing Tina’s excited eyes he changed his mind, “Okay, but how do I get her on this thing?”

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  Chapter 11

  . . .Two Men and a Flub

  -----------------------------------

  Miranda awoke alert. She felt around with her mind and confirmed she had slept several hours. She also felt the comforting presence of Kindy, Archie and un-Diego. For a change she allowed herself to stretch slowly and thoroughly before getting up from the bed. Kindy, Archie and un-Diego were in Archie's kitchen area carrying on a soft discussion.

  “So boys, where is the Reverend?” Miranda said sliding up behind them.

  Archie's stunned leap was enough to set Miranda chuckling inwardly. “Darn it girl, don't you make any noise when you walk?” Archie howled trying to regain some semblance of his pride. Behind him Miranda saw a slight smile on Kindy's face.

  “He's outside, worrying,” Kindy answered and rose to pull out a chair for Miranda.

  Miranda almost sat accepting Kindy's offer of companionship, falling easily for his too familiar face, until she remembered he wasn't her Ben. Then she shook off the impulse. Instead she let her thoughts wander back to the Reverend. The man knew so much that Miranda had never learned and never would have learned in the dark compound. “Thanks, I think I'll go have a talk with him.”

  Miranda delicately wove through Archie’s furniture groupings, and over the rubble in the tunnel before she nudged op
en the exit with her fingertips. She stepped outside and secured the slab. Reverend Meeker knelt among some of Archie’s flowers. His eyes were closed, his head bowed, and his hands clasped, occasionally Miranda heard him whisper softly. Miranda stood quietly and respectfully waiting for him to finish his prayer. It was a long wait, her muscles had stiffened, and she had slipped into a standing drowse before the reverend noticed her presence and hastily finished his prayer.

  “Can I help you?”

  Miranda shook herself alert again and began systematically stretching her tight muscles. “I’m sorry reverend, just wanted to talk to you about him, but I didn't want to interrupt.”

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind. It was my job, until all of this happened.” Reverend Meeker replied, “By the way I wouldn't mind if you called me Conrad.”

  “Okay, Conrad, how do you know if he’s even there?”

  “I know because we’re here. I don’t think something as complex as us can come of nothing.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. How do you know he’s here to listen? I’m mean sure you said he’s always listening, but how do you know he’s listening where you are at?”

  “He’s everywhere.” Conrad answered beginning to push himself up to stand next to Miranda.

  “Even in the dark prison camp?”

  Conrad nodded and brushed off his knees, “Most especially there!”

  “But...”

  “Miranda, it’s a matter of faith. Personally my faith has been strengthened by this. I used to have trouble with really taking my faith at face value. I mean in a plain ordinary world how was I supposed to believe in miracles. Now that my ability to accept the supernatural has been forced upon me by the enemy I can’t help but reevaluate miracles, and god. After all if it only takes six weeks for the devil to destroy a world why couldn't god create it in six days.”

  “The devil? You mean the Darkone, don’t you?”

  “The enemy, Lucifer, he has a lot of aliases because he runs a lot of cons on people.” Conrad shrugged and lowered his butt to a chunk of level concrete.

  “Lucifer?” Miranda struggled with her linguistic memory, finding a vague itch, “Doesn't that have something to do with light?”

  “Yes, it refers back to him having been one of god’s angels. He was exceedingly beautiful and high among god’s angels, until Lucifer began to think too much of his own greatness. He began to lust after power to match his beauty, and exceeding god’s own. God didn't stand for it, he cast Lucifer and his armies out of heaven and down to Earth; banishing them from the light of god’s perfect glory. After that Lucifer no longer shone with beauty because it had only ever been a reflection of god’s own.”

  “So the Darkone rebelled against god, going from one of his trusted lieutenants to an embittered adversary trying to strike out against superior forces,” Miranda found irony in the parallel of her own situation, “You’d think it might have occurred to him, heck it’s probably why he isn't too big on trust.”

  “Yeah, that sums it. Fortunately the enemy’s forces are inferior to god’s, which means in the end he'll lose.” Conrad rose to head back inside, “It’s getting late, we should finalize our plans. You'll need to head out for the camp soon if you want to be ready to strike at full dark.”

  Reluctantly Miranda scurried open the door for Conrad, “One question, if god is superior and everywhere and could and has kicked the Darkone’s butt, why did this happen to your world?”

  Conrad stood in the threshold and looked at Miranda with sad eyes, “God, has a reason, we might not understand it but it’s there.” He turned briskly down the tunnel. Miranda followed, regretting the turmoil of thought her question had caused.

  By the time they reached the still plotting trio at Archie’s table, Conrad’s turmoil had eased, but Miranda had fallen deeply into a pit of questioning her own ability to help. After all, she had seriously disturbed reverend Meeker with a simple question, how could she possibly hope to succeed any better when it came to facing the dark army alone. What was she going to do, cause the Djheens to have crises of faith? She paused on that thought, it just might have some use to it.

  “Connie, we've heard back from the main contingent. They’re ready as long as we’re sure we have a distraction that can draw off enough of their people.” un-Diego announced.

  “If I tell them who I am I can draw half their people in the quadrant. I should be enough of a distraction to draw a good crowd.” Miranda answered on conversational auto pilot.

  “Good. Ben, can you transmit, or whatever it is you do, what we have of the prison layout to her.” un-Diego asked turning to Kindy.

  At the mention of Ben, Miranda’s focus instantly swiveled back to the conversation. Her eyes met with Kindy’s and she sensed the stab of jealousy he felt towards her Ben. Silently Kindy walked around the table and sandwiched her hand gently between his. “I know we don’t need to touch, but it’s the type of show these guys expect,” Kindy warmly thought to her, piggybacked on the map un-Diego requested he transfer.

  With his touch and his smell so close, Miranda couldn't help feeling an anxious sense of thwarted completion, nor could she keep her feelings from Kindy. What’s worse she couldn't drive back his feelings which reverberated in key with her own. If Archie hadn't chosen just that moment to interrupt their contact, both mental and physical, Miranda might have forgotten all about her Ben.

  Archie clapped Kindy on the shoulder. “If that’s done with then let’s have something to eat!” Archie bellowed, with an echoing growl of his stomach as punctuation.

  “Of course,” Kindy responded. He was full of deflated disappointment, as if he realized that had been his one chance to steal Miranda away.

  Miranda had to physically shake herself after the contact was broken, and was slow to respond. “I could use a bite.”

  At her words Archie, un-Diego, and Kindy began filling the table with plates filled with a variety of re-heated canned this and that, which had been kept heating in the oven. Conrad bowed his head and the other’s paused in their activity, “Lord bless this meal which you have provided.”

  They presented each dish to Miranda first, offering her the best bits. She sampled and tasted it all, but felt full quickly as it all began to taste like her last meal. After the feast was laid out the men ate greedily. They too realized that this could be their last meal, even so they all encouraged Miranda to eat. At the meal’s somber end, Archie rose and ceremoniously looked at his pocket watch, “One hour and fifteen minutes till the official sunset.”

  Miranda rose and left, knowing that was her cue to head out on her mission of mayhem. She didn't say good bye. She didn't look back, and she held her mind under tight control, for fear of making contact with Kindy. She couldn't close her ears though, and they picked out his quiet, “Good luck.” Miranda tried to drive her thoughts away from Kindy by contemplating the way Archie would describe her in his stories.

  Miranda followed the map and directions Kindy had given her. It brought her to a modified high school. She stooped to hide behind rubble twenty feet out from the imposing barbed wire topped cyclone fence which surrounded the campus on all sides. Miranda knew from her own experience as well as Kindy’s intel that the fence was just for show, the real barrier was an electronic force shield three feet the other side of the fence. For Miranda it wasn't really a barrier. She knew how to circumvent it from either side, and how to undetectably shut it down, if she could find the generator control panels on each side.

  Miranda carefully scanned the vicinity for an object the right size and distance from the fence on her side. She almost missed it, since the only real candidate was the very chunk of rubble she hid behind. Educated guessing located the control panel, and contrived luck had it that the shield configuration was one she had trained on. She almost made the mistake of following the remembered course of her lesson when she realized that the long ago lesson itself had been a carefully laid trap, probably for this very eventuality.


  Rocking back on her heels, Miranda examined the situation through the filter of what she understood dark motivation to be. Why would they teach their own people to get around their equipment? In case it fell into enemy hands, but they wouldn't trust their people lest they, like Miranda became the enemy. So, there would be a booby-trap only those submitting totally enough to the dark one to earn his trust would be told of, just in case.

  Miranda pried up the panel facing and found the booby-trap. The keys were all fingerprint identification keyed. Presumably only authorized operatives assigned to this installation would be in the database. Miranda had been prepared for this eventuality and quickly set the id system into a protocol loop then keyed the master sequence. The shield energy level went down with a hum. A dim light on the panel flickered in a carefully timed and diminishing rhythm. Miranda had forty-three seconds to key into the matching panel on the other side. Protocol placed it behind a stack of barrels two feet from the entrance.

  Using the same unfocused focus that had gotten her to this world despite a planetary shield, Miranda teleported herself to the probable location of the other panel. Her luck held and she disabled the shield entirely. Barring a paranoid overachiever of a perimeter guard, which wasn't likely since the dark didn't recruit well among over achievers, the fault would be missed until well after her attempt had succeeded, or failed. Miranda let her attention fall to the next task at hand, getting inside and well positioned so that she could provide the maximum disruption at the appointed time, which wasn't more than half an hour away.

  Miranda passively felt around with her mind. The prisoners were all grouped together in the main auditorium at the center of the main building. As for dark operatives, with the exception of a high concentration of Djheens in the ticket booth just outside of the auditorium, there was no sign of them. That worried her, there were few circumstances where such a situation would be within normal operating procedure, none of them were good.

  Since the prisoners had been moved to a single location, guarded solely by Djheens, Miranda might have to deviate from the plan, despite her role as a diversion, and strike immediately. Before the Djheens could act against the prisoners, and so as to give enough time to attract and distract the largest number of enemy troops.