ALPHA RISING

by

G.L. Douglas

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

G.L. Douglas at Smashwords

Alpha Rising

Copyright © 2006, 2007 by G.L. Douglas

All rights reserved. No part of this book maybe used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Alpha Rising can be ordered in print/hardcopy from both Amazon.com online, or through major bookstores online or in-store.

ISBN: 978-0-595-41100-9

*****

Smashwords Edition License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dr. Sten Odenwald, NASA

"Why should we bother ourselves with the merits of fantasy worlds? Because sometimes it can be a good exercise to pull out the stops and let our minds enjoy unrestricted possibilities. From time to time, answers to great questions have accidentally emerged from the muddy waters of unbridled imagination. A light-hearted and playful romp through the world of science fiction might uncover interesting viewpoints to difficult questions.”

From Dr. Odenwald’s article Faster Than Light (used with permission)

http://www.astronomycafe.net

*****

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Editor:

Rob Scharpf, Melbourne, Florida

Technical advisor and evaluator:

James V. Rootsey, Melbourne, Florida

Special thanks to:

Salvador Hernandez Oliver

Florida Technical Institute/Dept. of Physics & Space Sciences

Your awesome knowledge of Black Holes brought deep space to life.

*****

ALPHA RISING

*****

CHAPTER ONE

May 25, 2020. Kennedy Space Center. The countdown clock’s bright yellow numerals flashed to T minus 4 hours and counting. At 5:00 a.m., two astronauts aboard an experimental craft would lift off on the most critical and dangerous space mission ever undertaken.

In NASA’s pre-flight isolation quarters, Commander Bachman “Bach” Turner nodded in and out of sleep, his body exhausted and mind dilated from two intense weeks of rescue run-throughs, medical procedures, and linkup drills.

After looking at the clock for the tenth time in an hour, the restless astronaut pushed strands of unruly brown hair from his forehead and rolled out of bed talking to himself, or as NASA calls it, “think-aloud protocol,” considered helpful in solving problems. “Eat something. That’ll help me sleep. Shouldn’t eat just hours before a launch, but I’ve done it before and never puked at liftoff.” Bach headed to the kitchen, grabbed the TV remote, and channel surfed as he walked—medical shows, religious music, reruns, scantily clad women, all-night news. “News … and comfort food,” he said, tearing into a bag of chocolate chip cookies and pouring a glass of milk.

Bach settled into a recliner in the living room, set his milk in the chair’s cup holder, and pressed the heat and massage buttons. The vibrator kicked on and a dozen concentric circles jigged on the milk’s surface. He stuck his finger in the center to disrupt the pattern and watched in fatigued amusement as the quivering liquid reorganized and encircled it. He smiled, remembering a waterwave experiment of larger proportion in the bathtub when he was five years old. The resultant discipline by his mother instantly squelched his interest in deep sea diving. Better was intergalactic travel wearing bath towel capes and flying cardboard-box spaceships that, in his imagination, transported him to distant realms.

Bach thought about two risky spacewalk missions he made four years ago to repair the ailing International Space Station. Although unsuccessful in returning the station to service, his efforts were recognized as technological milestones. But he knew what lay ahead this time was far more perilous.

The TV flickered through a round of commercials and a rerun began of an earlier broadcast. A newscaster narrated. “With time running out, and amid heated controversy, NASA officials confirmed the President’s go-ahead for a dangerous rescue mission to find and bring home the crew of four aboard the AstroLab, lost beyond Earth’s solar system since May 7, 2020.”

Bach shook his head and aimed the remote, but then wondered if they would show his and his crewmate Faith Christopher’s brief statements. “Not sure I want to see myself in a TV interview.” He stuffed a cookie into his mouth and watched anyway.

The journalist’s voiceover accompanied footage of the AstroLab’s launch. “The next-generation spacecraft nicknamed ‘the Lab,’ lifted off on May 1, 2020, on an expedition slated to transcend the bounds of existing space exploration and rewrite man’s concepts of the universe.” As he continued, portraits and group shots of the two female and two male astronauts flashed on the TV screen. “Commander Luke Lynch, forty-eight; Pilot Moondeni ‘Deni’ Kambo, thirty-nine; Mission Specialist Kaz Lopez, twenty-six, and Payload Specialist/Medical Doctor G.R. Demetri, forty-two, were set to explore a mysterious green sphere that appeared in the Southern Cross constellation two years ago. When research confirmed the orb was a biospheric planet encircled by two crisscrossing bands of water and orbiting its own small sun, space exploration programs geared up and aerospace personnel around the world united with one goal: travel beyond our solar system to explore the planet they named Urusa. The name, a variation of the earliest spellings of Jerusalem, translates to ‘Place of Peace.’

“Following their classic liftoff from Earth, the crew jockeyed the AstroLab to a lunar-based particle beam accelerator where they made history after the nuclear device thrust their manned spacecraft beyond Neptune and Pluto at warp speed. The Lab performed flawlessly on course to Urusa, but a day before their scheduled touchdown, the crew’s communications ceased and the ship vanished from the monitoring equipment.

“When efforts to reestablish contact failed, NASA plunged into critical operations for an emergency search and rescue mission. But a day later, sobering facts emerged. If the AstroLab’s crew were without power, their emergency systems would sustain life for five weeks, maximum, and NASA had no other spacecraft capable of travel beyond the solar system.”

Bach talked to the TV. “I’m gonna find ’em!”

“Now, against all odds,” the newscaster said, “a risky rescue mission has been pieced together at the last minute.” The camera panned to a table in NASA’s pressroom showing Bach and his crewmate Faith seated with a news anchor.

Seeing himself on TV, Bach squirmed, cleared his throat a little, and swigged his milk. “Next time, old boy, loosen up a bit. And get a haircut first.” Then he smirked. “But I look younger than thirty-five.”

The news anchor began his interview. “Here with me today are the two courageous astronauts selected for the search mission, Commander Bachman ‘Bach’ Turner, and Copilot/Mission Specialist Faith Christopher.” The camera moved in for a close-up of Bach as the news anchor continued. “Commander, an incredibly difficult effort lies ahead for you and your copilot. Less than three weeks ago there seemed little hope. Now, hope comes with an enormous risk and a time limit of sixteen days to find the AstroLab, and then bring our astronauts home. How did this not-found-in-any-textbook rescue mission evolve so quickly under such tense circumstances?”

A puff of air slipped from Bach’s lips. “Guts and determination. NASA’s scientists and aerospace personnel didn’t give up. With no other spacecraft suited for warp flight, they simulated every possibility and eventually agreed to use an experimental spacecraft with cutting-edge electronics and detection devices called the Wizard. The best technicians in the world worked around the clock to retrofit Wizard’s systems to withstand particle beam propulsion.” He looked at his crewmate. “We’re going to make it work.”

The camera focused on Faith, a small, fresh-faced blond who looked more like a teen model than a thirty-six-year-old astronaut.

The newscaster continued. “Faith, how were you and Bach selected for this vital undertaking?”

A deep breath prefaced her reply. “My background in astronomy, cosmology, and oceanography was a good fit, and I’m trained for medical emergencies.” She glanced at Bach. “Bach’s an electrical engineer, gifted in computer mechanics and troubleshooting urgent spacecraft issues.” Faith then explained the rescue criteria and link-up drills, adding, “Preparation of this magnitude normally requires months of training, but Bach and I completed it in two weeks.” She smiled faintly. “We’re confident we’ll succeed.” Dark circles under her eyes evidenced the rigorous schedule.

As the rerun telecast neared its end, Bach rose from the recliner and closed his ears to Faith’s final remark—even though he knew it had softened many hardhearted naysayers who’d opposed risking more lives in an uncharted area of deep space.

Faith commented to the interviewer, “Bach has a personal interest in the mission.” She paused, then added, “His fiancée is aboard the AstroLab.”

The newscaster showed no emotion as he leaned across the table and shook hands with the astronauts. “Godspeed, and bring ’em all home safe and sound.”

Credits rolled on the TV screen, and the old space tune “Starrider” played in the background while NASA’s wake-up alarm chimed in the isolation quarters.

Bach rifled through his closet, pulled on a tee shirt and surfer shorts and headed to the pre-flight center. After showering, he entered the pressurized sanitary module where waiting personnel helped him into his spacesuit. Faith had already suited up.

#

With the countdown clock at T minus 1 hour 30 minutes to liftoff, Bach and Faith rode an elevated walkway to the Wizard’s hatch. Faith entered the ship first and immediately began the pre-flight check.

Bach stepped aboard with determination blazing in his eyes. He’d long forgotten NASA’s primary concerns: Would particle beam acceleration work on the hastily modified Wizard? Would he and Faith survive with their experimental reflective ionic shield and wraparound g-force diffusing seats, or would the beam compress them and then vaporize the ship? He strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and fixed his gaze on the predawn sky. “Bring it on!”

*****

CHAPTER TWO

With Bach at the controls and Faith manning communication links, the arrow-shaped Wizard roared off the launch pad on a pillar of orange flame. A rolling rumble shook the air as the ship sliced through the clouds and people for miles around experienced the thunder-like aftershock.

Within two minutes, the spent solid rocket boosters separated from the Wizard’s undercarriage and fell into the Atlantic Ocean. The second and third stages separated at the fringes of Earth’s atmosphere.

When they reached the moon, Bach navigated the Wizard to the far side to line up with the particle beam accelerator where, just days earlier, the now-missing AstroLab became the first manned spacecraft to use the nuclear-powered device.

Hovering in the target zone, he looked out the cockpit window. “Awesome!” He motioned to Faith. “Look at that.”

She glanced over his shoulder. Earth and the moon were so perfectly aligned that the Earth, with the sun ninety degrees off from their flight path, created a blue halo around the crescent moon. She nodded. “It’s a thumbs up from God.”

Bach checked the ship’s clock. Right on time. In thirty-five seconds the nuclear-powered device at NASA’s lunar outpost would align precisely with the Wizard, then blast it into deep space with a force of thousands of g’s.

“Five, four, three, two, one….” The radio crackled. “Beam initiated.”

Silence.

The ship fired through space like a bullet, distorting the astronauts’ senses. For a moment, Bach felt something more than the expected g-force propulsion. It was as if a protective hand were cradling them, and a powerful omniscient spirit guiding them through a glorious, colorful domain. Images raced by and swirled about.

The crewmates reached another dimension, and both were still alive.

#

Bach unwound from the thrust and the heavenly experience by crowing, “I loved exiting the heliosphere at warp speed. Breathtaking!”

“Guided by the Almighty,” Faith replied. She checked the comm links. “But now we’re so far out that our satellite communication relay speed is reduced by two-thirds.”

“That’s the drawback when technology can’t keep up with itself,” he replied. “Reminds me of an old song.” Bach’s quirky habit of singing tunes to match his surroundings kicked in, and he let loose an off-key version of an old song about ground control trying to contact an astronaut lost in space.

Faith removed her helmet and shook her blond hair free. Zero gravity took it up and out, framing her face like a halo. “I remember that song … but it sounded a little different when David Bowie sang it.” She eased from the copilot’s perch with a smile and drifted in weightlessness to mid ship. “They rushed us through training so fast we hardly got to know each other.” Holding onto an overhead bar, she pulled off her flight suit. “Are you always so relaxed?”

Bach flashed a high-voltage smile and chuckled. “Relaxed? It’s full-on exhaustion and a post-adrenaline calm, but I’m an easy-going guy.”

“When I first heard your name, I figured you’d be a boring, classical type. Glad you’re not.”

“Thanks. My paternal grandparents, the Turners, carry the blame for my name. Those wild rock and rollers passed on their love of rock music to my dad. The seventies group, Bachman Turner Overdrive, was one of their favorites, so when I was born, Bachman was an irresistible choice for my first name. I was a high-energy kid, so my folks started calling me ‘Overdrive.’ Some of my friends picked up on it. I hated being called Overdrive, and Bachman wasn’t any better, so I did the teen thing and declared myself ‘Bach.’ But, I’m as unclassical as they come. I love singin’ rock oldies.”

Faith stored her gear and shook her head. “The nickname Overdrive will never cross my lips. And I like rock music too, but soft rock.”

“Oh, I can sing soft rock too,” he replied with a grin.

Faith drifted back to the cockpit and scanned a data screen. “I wish NASA could have given us a smaller target area. There’s a lot of vacant space out here to search.”

“Kaz is on that ship. I’ll find ’em,” Bach stated.

Looking into the endless void beyond the windows, Faith reached beneath the neckline of her jumpsuit and pulled out a gold Byzantine cross necklace she always wore. It floated upward in front of her face. She clutched the small cross to her chest and, out of habit, ran her fingers over the smooth surface.

Bach unharnessed and removed his helmet as he free-floated from his seat. “Gonna get out of this flight suit.” He playfully somersaulted to the aft galley. “Want something to drink? Cosmic surfing was a real rush, but it sure made me thirsty.”

“A sip of water, thanks.”

After storing his gear, Bach bounced to the galley for water tubes. Seeing his reflection in the refrigerator’s metallic panel, he let out a little yelp. “Whooo. My hair exploded!” Patting down strands sticking straight up, he joked, “I look like the rock star I always wanted to be.” A few lines of an unknown song resounded through the cabin. “I don’t know where I’m goin’, but I’ll sure know when I’m there.”

Faith chuckled.

Bach corkscrewed through the cabin to the flight deck. “That remarkable sentiment comes from a song written by my college buddies in a rock group, the Ravens. And here’s fair warning: I know the words to hundreds of old songs from the days when I worked as a DJ to earn a little money … and meet girls. Mostly meet girls.” He nodded to himself. “But that was a long time ago.” With that, he unzipped the neckline of his jumpsuit, reached inside, and pulled out a small, heart-shaped picture frame holding a photo of a young, dark-haired woman. He opened his hand and allowed the frame to float in the weightless environment, then kissed his fingertips and touched her lips. “Hold tight love, we’ll be there soon.”

Faith’s eyes widened. “You smuggled Kaz’s picture aboard?”

“Yeah. For some of us it’s a requisite prank to smuggle something. Did you bring anything?”

“Yes.”

“You did?”

“Yes, my Bible.”

“Bible? How’d you sneak on something that big?”

“Friends in high places,” she said, smiling. “Snuck it on my last mission, too. Got it for my twelfth birthday from my grandparents.” She turned serious. “The Bible’s the most important thing you can have anywhere, anytime.”

“If you say so.”

Her big blue eyes twinkled. “B-I-B-L-E, Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth.”

Bach handed her a tube of water and repeated, “If you say so.” He checked the viewscreen as he sat. “Ya gotta wonder how the AstroLab’s crew’s doing, lost in space with Luke Lynch as commander.”

She groaned. “Yeah, I heard he’s a tyrant.”

“They don’t call him by his last name for nothing. Personally, I think the old man has made one flight too many.”

Faith slid her gold cross back and forth on the chain. “But he has a way of getting the best performance from diverse personalities.”

“That’s what worries me. Kaz is a diverse personality all by herself. I hope old drill-sergeant Lynch has compassion for his rookie astronaut. She’s young. This is a lot for her to handle.”

“I’m betting he’ll try to take command of this ship on the way home.”

Bach smirked a little. “He can’t. He doesn’t know how to fly this one.”

*****

CHAPTER THREE

Bach watched incoming feed on a data panel. Beyond Mars, space/time delays between NASA and the Wizard made timely receipt and transmission of electronic communiqués a persistent problem. “Finally, fresh information,” he said, then read aloud, “‘Last stats hold. AstroLab and crew believed safe with main powerplant down.’”

Faith talked as she typed on a keyboard. “They’re probably psychologically numb. Space has such an impact on emotions.”

After checking a radarscope, Bach said, “Nothing resembling the Lab registering. Their backup systems must be at minimum or we’d have detected them by now.” He shook his head. “If there were a way to fly the Lab and crew home, Deni Kambo would do it. She piloted my last spacewalk mission. Hard to believe I’m involved in her rescue.”

Faith nodded, then reached up and snagged Kaz’s picture from the air for a closer look. “She’s very pretty. How long have you been together?”

“Ten months. We were both part of the Viking mission prep crew. She didn’t launch with us, but I admired her technical skills and enjoyed her feisty attitude. Tracked her down later and we’ve been together ever since.” He paused, then chuckled and added, “It’s a good thing I like people who speak their mind, ’cause Kaz’s thoughts run from her brain to her lips, uncensored.”

“How’d she score a spot on the AstroLab?”

“She’s a technical whiz. Aced every phase of training and suggested a modification that was approved and incorporated. She’s only twenty-six. Got drafted into an experimental astronaut space program straight from high school.”

“Sounds like a great lady.”

“Yeah, my little Latin spitfire.” He raised his eyebrows. “You got a special man?”

“First, Almighty God. Then, Paul is my true love on the earthly plane. He’s in Jerusalem right now.”

“Jerusalem?”

“With the American Anthropological Society’s research team, carbon dating artifacts at Hebrew University—piecing together evidence of Noah’s ark.”

“Interesting. How’d you meet?”

“Two years ago I was on the balcony of my condo watching a spectacular meteor shower. They were comin’ down one a minute. Paul, a handsome archeologist working on The Noah Project, was on the balcony next door. I’ve been fascinated by Noah’s ark since I was a little girl. I have a huge collection of Noah trinkets—plates, snow globes, jewelry.” She paused for a breath. “We’ve been together ever since that night.”

Bach smiled. “Sounds like the two of you were meant to be.”

“Yeah, and we both love God’s kingdom. I traverse the stars; Paul explores terra firma.”

Bach flipped through papers on a clipboard. “Know anything about G.R., the doctor on the AstroLab?”

She shuddered. “Oh, yeah. He instructed my medical class. He’s an excellent doctor, but a little strange. He cracks jokes at odd times, and snorts when he laughs which draws attention to his Neanderthal-like face. So the class always laughed, but it wasn’t at his jokes. Worse is his irritating habit of beginning almost every sentence with, ‘In my opinion.’”

“Uh-oh.” Bach rolled his eyes. “I bet Kaz breaks him of that before we get back home.”

*****

CHAPTER FOUR

Lost in deep space in the AstroLab, Lynch, Deni, Kaz, and G.R. performed like trained professionals the first few days of their crisis, but their reality changed for the worse when repeated attempts failed to restore the main powerplant or regain contact with Earth and they faced the fact that they were helpless to get back home on their own. One of the few positives was that their Artificial Gravity (AG) unit remained functional on backup power.

Kaz tapped a stream of data into a computer at her mid-ship workstation. Lynch hovered nearby, his lived-in face and close-set blue eyes riveted to her activity. She shifted in her seat. “Please find something else to do. I can’t concentrate with you hanging over my shoulder.”

His nostrils flared as he spoke. “Just hurry up with that feasibility study.” Six strides of his long legs took him back to the cockpit. He interrupted Deni, seated at her pilot’s position, and complained in his thick Tennessee drawl, “We’ve accomplished nothin’ drifting in space. We’re gonna link up with the old space station.”

Deni hoisted her six-foot, two-inch frame from the pilot’s seat and stared at the commander face to face. Her eyes opened so wide the whites looked twice the size against her dark brown skin. “Too big a risk. Too far away.”

Lynch’s chest rose with a hard breath. “We’re not gonna get back home in this ship. So you got a better idea, Deni?”

“Yes. Let’s try for planet Urusa. Kaz’s idea to use the spacewalk jetpack’s power as transitory propulsion is a good one. We can make it to Urusa if it works.”

“I ain’t sacrificin’ the jetpack’s powerpacks on speculation. Urusa may not be a biosphere. We’re better off usin’ that power to head back to our solar system to link up with the space station. We could eventually be rescued from there.”

G.R. grew tired of holding his tongue and yelled from aft cabin, “In my opinion, you’re both rushing ahead blindly with an all-or-nothing mentality.” His primitive looks and casual humor made it hard for his crewmates to take him seriously in technical matters. “You know NASA’s doing everything possible to find us. They won’t be looking for us at the space station—it’s opposite of where we are. They’ll be looking near Urusa. We need to stay put. Our chances of being rescued are better if we don’t do anything rash.”

“NASA doesn’t have a spacecraft suited for a rescue where we are beyond our solar system. You know that,” Lynch almost yelled. “But the space station’s nuclear powered heat ’n’ communications relay systems should be functional. We’re two weeks down without power and we only got a week’s worth of food, at best. I will get us home.”

G.R. headed to the cockpit and confronted Lynch. “They abandoned that depleted relic three years ago for good reason. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the whispered rumors among the astronaut community of unethical experiments by foreign countries using that space station.”

Lynch looked at his crew, yelled, and shook his finger at the same time. “Don’t give me any more crap!” A cord-like vein divided his forehead and his voice intensified. “I’ve ridden more flights than all of you combined; lived through emergencies, oxygen cutoffs, power malfunctions, unexplained phenomena, and g-pukin’ rookies who thought they had all the answers, but the fact remains I’m the commander of this ship, and we’re goin’ to the old space station.”

A three-foot-long feasibility report spewed from Kaz’s data center. She tore it off and shoved it at Lynch. “Here’s your sim, Commander, you figure it out.” She stormed to aft cabin choking back tears and looked through a viewport into total darkness. “What if we don’t make it? I’ll never see Bach again … or my parents … or my cats.”

On her heels with the printout gripped in one hand, Lynch roared, “Cats? Kaz, cats?” The vein on his forehead bulged again. “We’re in a life or death situation and you’re worried about cats?”

Her brown eyes locked on his face. “You just made me more determined not to spend my last days here with you.”

The commander clamped his hand over Kaz’s arm and shoved the papers under her nose. “Didn’t you absorb the data you referenced? We can reach the space station. Look at the stats.”

The young rookie’s hands shook so hard she couldn’t read the printout. “I can’t function under this microcontrol.”

G.R. pressed to her side to study the simulation for linkup under one of the overhanging gull-wing-shaped docking ports on opposite sides of the wheel-like space station. He shook his head. “In my opinion, we should stay put.” His big brows furrowed. “What worries me most is potential for biohazards left over from old medical research. I got a wife and three kids.”

Lynch took the printout from G.R. “They also grew hydroponic food. There’s a chance we can regenerate those projects. And there should be oxygen canisters aboard.” His drawl turned hot, “I ain’t wastin’ any more time. Return to your workstations.” He pointed at Kaz. “Run a sim usin’ the jetpack’s fuel canisters. Get it done. One way or another, we will dock with the old space station.” He spoke to Deni in the cockpit without looking at her. “Get your controls reset as soon as Kaz gives you the specs. We’ll try a manual fire of fuel canisters for propulsion.”

Deni leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. Her angry black eyes almost shot sparks. “The space station’s too far away. This isn’t a one-man show, Lynch. I don’t like the risks and neither do the others. You’re gambling with our lives. You know we’ll have just one go at docking. If we screw up, we’ll be so far off course that NASA will never find us.”

Lynch leaned to within inches of her face. “I’m the commander and you’re the coxswain, and this is a command. You sit ’n’ do what you were trained to do.”

“I wasn’t trained to take your foolish risks.”

“Feel free to leave at any time. But until then, you’re hereby ordered to orchestrate the rendezvous.”

*****

CHAPTER FIVE

Bach and Faith were five days into their mission, with no sign of the AstroLab, when he asked for NASA’s approval to search beyond the target area. Waiting for the reply, he focused on surveillance systems while Faith monitored heat, motion, and energy sensing devices. In the last two hours they’d detected three objects in deep space, but none met the Lab’s profile.

Faith fired off rounds of communications signals and listened for a response through her headset. “Nothing.”

Bach stared into the star-studded blackness beyond the porthole. “They’re out there somewhere. Why haven’t we found them? This equipment can detect a fly on Mars.”

Faith fiddled with the cross on her neckchain. “What if we don’t?”

“We’re gonna find ’em,” he said firmly. “But it makes me sick to think that if we fail, millions of dollars will be made by people on Earth turning our crewmates’ disappearance into extraterrestrial madness.”

She looked at him with an odd expression. “Do you believe aliens exist?”

“Didn’t in the past. But to have lost the AstroLab without a trace in uncharted territory … maybe there are little green men on Urusa who didn’t want company.”

Faith tucked the cross inside her jumpsuit and pondered Bach’s comment.

“But I’m betting the crew’s okay,” he added. “Their combination of raw talent, experience, and guts will prevail.”

“What if they’re on Urusa? They were just a day away when they lost communications. It’s a safe risk. Where else would they go?”

Bach shrugged. “Maybe there’s something hiding out here that astronomers haven’t discovered.”

“Like what?”

“A peculiar warp in the space-time continuum just beyond our solar system that sends unsuspecting travelers into a domain where neither light nor radio waves can propagate. A space inversion where other worlds, other universes, exist.”

A weak whistle slipped from Faith’s lips. “Other universes? I’ve read about stuff like that. It would be awesome, but so far I don’t buy it.” To change the subject she focused on the latest data from Mission Control. “I wish NASA would hurry up with that go-ahead, Urusa in particular. If our guys are there, we’ll just make it in time.”

“Yep. Pressure’s on.” Bach said. Then, like all astronauts, he talked to himself. “Adrenaline rush’s what I love most about this job.”

With screens flickering, lights blinking, fans and motors droning, the two huddled at the sensor panel and processed incoming data. When a doorbell-like chime went off at mid ship, Faith drifted through the cabin to silence the noisy tracking device. The display screen showed a large mass surrounded by an energy field in Earth’s solar system, but far from both the Wizard’s search area and the AstroLab’s last known whereabouts.

A half-hour later, an affirmative communiqué from NASA reached the Wizard. Bach printed a copy and read aloud. “‘AstroLab’s crew in contact. Docked with space station.’”

Faith pointed over his shoulder to something on the page. “Look! A warning! The ship didn’t get there under the crew’s control.”

“Whew.” Bach read more. “‘Powerful, unexplained forcefield catapulted Lab through space like a rock from a slingshot. Released ship at space station. Lab’s communications systems inexplicably regenerated on backup power one hour later. Unhurt crew awaiting arrival of Wizard and crew.’”

Energized at learning their fellow astronauts were alive and in Earth’s solar system, Bach and Faith readied for the rescue. “We’ll dock the Wizard beneath the space station’s other gull-wing,” Bach said. “Then the Lab’s crew can jetpack-ferry two over, one back, until we have ’em all aboard.” He took a deep breath. “Hopefully, we’ll be on the sunny side of the space station.”

Faith nodded, then read the last line on the communiqué. “‘Anticipate possible dangers from the forcefield en route to the space station.’”

*****

CHAPTER SIX

Bach and Faith piloted the Wizard through deep space without incident. As Bach had hoped, they arrived at the space station on its sunny side. They welcomed the sights of the AstroLab safely docked and a view of planet Earth in the distance. Anxious to reunite with their fellow astronauts, they successfully linked up under the second gull-wing docking port.

But when Faith tried to report to NASA, alarms screeched, gongs clanged, and the cabin plunged into darkness.

Bach shouted, “Total power failure!” His voice coarsened, “No oxygen regeneration system; no heat.”

With only faint light coming through the portholes to work by, Faith tried to initialize an emergency communications link. “Everything’s dead!” she yelled to Bach.

Cabin temperature dropping at five degrees a minute, Bach called out, “Hurry, pack up what you can. We’ll cut through the space station to the AstroLab.”

The Wizard’s cabin temperature was now at fifty degrees.

The two struggled into their spacesuits in zero gravity and bounced around the cabin gathering breathing devices, medical supplies, personal effects, a flashlight, and all the dehydrated food they could fit into two duffel bags. Bach grabbed the ship’s huge log containing paper copies of processing equipment data, mission details, codes, and ship schematics. In addition to records stored in computers, crews documented details of every mission in journals as an emergency reference.

Wearing air packs and carrying all they could, Bach and Faith crawled through the Wizard’s docking port to the space station’s hatch. Bach opened it, then, as if swimming, the two propelled themselves through the airlock by flashlight, surfacing near the flight deck. The station’s nuclear powered, temperature-controlled interior fascinated Bach, and he took in as much as he could in a cursory glance while drifting by. Seconds later they reached the airlock on the space station’s far side and hastened through to the docked AstroLab. Bach opened the Lab’s exterior hatch and entered the ship with Faith.

The four aboard the AstroLab had watched Bach and Faith dock with the space station and wondered why they hadn’t made contact. When they heard noises coming from the airlock they realized who it was, and as soon as their comrades entered, Kaz, Deni, and G.R. welcomed them. Lynch stood aside with arms folded across his chest, impatiently tapping his foot.

Artificial gravity brought Bach and Faith to a dizzying halt after days in weightlessness. Feeling disoriented, their bodies as heavy as lead, both braced themselves against the ship’s walls as they pulled off their helmets and slid the airpacks from their shoulders.

Holding in excitement at reuniting with her fiancé, Kaz helped Deni move helmets, airpacks and supplies from the aisle.

Lynch stepped in front of Bach. “What are you doing over here? We were supposed to board the Wizard. And how did you get our hatch open?”

“Hold it a minute while I adjust to gravity.” Bach leaned over with hands on bent knees to ease his light-headedness.

Kaz glared at Lynch and helped Bach to a seat at mid ship. Deni led Faith to a jumpseat in the galley.

Lynch moved to mid ship and hovered over Bach. “Bach, what’s going on?”

“Fill you in … in a minute,” he said weakly.

“You’re on my ship now. You’ll defer to me as commander.”

Bach took a deep breath. “Okay, Commander. As soon as we docked … we lost all power. No backup, no emergency systems. Had five minutes to get out alive.”

“How’d you get our hatch open?”

“What do you mean? I just unlatched it.”

Lynch’s jaw clenched. “I tried to open it from inside when our communications links were dead. I was gonna enter the space station to use that equipment. But our hatch was stuck. I tried everything and couldn’t release it.”

“Opened right up for me,” Bach said with a shrug.

“Yeah. It opened easier from the outside.” Lynch walked back to the cockpit mumbling, “Now we gotta get this ship operational.” He reported to NASA that all had reunited on the AstroLab which was still running on backup power. During transmission delay, he poked buttons on a hand-held data processor, then looked back through the cabin and yelled to the mingling crew. “Get busy.”

Kaz made a face in Lynch’s direction and whispered like a robot to Bach, “Avoid-human-contact-at-all-costs.”

Still trying to get his bearings, Bach closed his eyes.

Ground Control reported that with the Wizard inoperable, NASA’s communiqué would follow with procedures for Bach to troubleshoot the AstroLab’s main powerplant. Then the six crewmates would leave the Wizard at the space station for retrieval later and would return home together in the Lab.

G.R. wasted no time readying his medical supplies to check Bach’s and Faith’s vital signs. He pointed behind the galley area and announced, “I’ve got a closet-sized emergency room right over there. Go ahead and store your space suits in the storage holds, then each of you can have a turn on my padded recliner.” A little laugh-snort followed.

The two struggled to remove their flight suits. “Where’s the storage hold?” Bach asked. G.R. pointed aft. Bach stored the gear while Faith sat in the chair.

G.R. lowered the recliner to almost flat, then hovered over Faith. “I remember you.” He looked down at her face nodding his Neanderthal-looking head. “You were the top student in my medical emergency class last year at NASA.”

Not knowing if her smile showed or not, Faith blinked a couple of times then softly said, “Sorry, still a bit out of it.” While G.R. monitored her heart and lungs, checked her eyes and ears, and looked in her mouth, she came around slowly. “You were a great teacher,” she said. “Lots of fun.” She paused for a moment. “And I am extremely glad that Bach and I found you all alive and well. I’d hate to have to practice the procedures you taught me.”

G.R. patted her shoulder and smiled. “I’m confident that my star pupil would have given us the best of care.” He moved on to check Bach’s vital signs and when he finished, announced, “In my opinion, the two of you are in excellent condition.”

Kaz yelled from her workstation, “G.R. I told you to stop saying, ‘In my opinion.’ It’s driving me crazy.”

G.R. seemed to not hear.

Faith smiled and walked to where Kaz was working. “Kaz, I’m Faith Christopher. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you from Bach on our way here.”

“Thanks. Nice to meet you,” Kaz replied.

Kaz offered no further conversation, so Faith headed toward the cockpit. “I’ll need to familiarize myself with the AstroLab before our return flight to Earth,” she said, as she stepped to Lynch’s side. It was plain to see the stress on his aging face and the determination in his beady blue eyes. “Commander, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” When he didn’t reply, she let out a little huff. “What are my responsibilities?”

“Work with G.R. to get the ship ready for takeoff. The forcefield’s thrust caused interior disruption. Secure the ship.”

Faith nodded, then tried being cordial again. “Commanding this first-generation spacecraft is quite an accomplishment. How long were you in the space program before you reached the rank of commander?”

He stiffened. “Haven’t been an astronaut very long, have you?”

“Well, I’ve—”

“Only a rookie wouldn’t know who I am.”

“I’m not a rookie. I—”

Lynch talked over her, repeating his credentials robotically. “This is my eleventh space mission in twenty years at NASA. Before that, I trained Air Force stealth pilots and spent my entire life ’n’ military career workin’ toward one goal—become an astronaut and explore interstellar space. Never took time for marriage ’n’ family. Attained Senior Commander status in the space program last year at age forty-eight.”

Faith forced a smile. “Congratulations, you deserve it.” She turned to Deni. “How about you, Deni?”

“I’d rather not talk about myself.”

Uncomfortable with Deni’s curt response, Faith headed to the galley to help G.R. She pressed close to his side and whispered from behind her hand, “Deni’s so tall and very beautiful, but is she always so grumpy?”

He led her aft where they could speak freely. “Deni’s driven and focused and comes across that way, but she’s a great lady. Gets her height from roots in Africa’s Watusi tribe. She’s an amazing pilot. Outflew all the guys in simulation exercises, so NASA awarded her the enviable position of piloting the AstroLab at age thirty-nine,” he hesitated, “but it’s not so enviable right now.”

“Yeah.”

G.R. looked through the cabin. “Let’s do our safety check. You take one side and I’ll take the other.”

“Hey,” Faith yelled to the others, “Anyone want a drink before we get everything tied down?”

“Anything but water,” Deni said. “I need a shot of energy.”

“Protein shake? We brought packets from the Wizard.”

“Perfect, thanks.”

When Faith served drinks to the crew, Deni became more cordial. “Thanks, Faith. Sorry I was a bit short,” she said. “We’re all under a lot of stress and I’m anxious to fly this ship home.”

“You’ll do it,” Faith replied with a smile.

Deni smiled back.

#

NASA’s troubleshooting communiqué came through, and Bach went to work on the powerplant. Within twenty minutes he announced, “Gettin’ a positive response here. If everything resets, we might be ready to go in two hours.” To ease the stress, he joked and made up a song about eluding aliens, to the amusement of some.

G.R. yelled toward Lynch, “Hey, I hate to put a ding in the positive energy, but even with the food they brought from the Wizard, we won’t have enough to get us home. And that’s if nothing else goes wrong.”

Lynch strode to the food storage area, acting as if he’d somehow find a hidden stash of supplies. G.R. knew he hadn’t missed anything, but looked on in silence while Lynch nosed around the cabinets and drawers. The commander soon agreed they were short of food for six people and walked to mid ship to watch Bach’s final systems check. “When you came through the space station’s flight deck area, what did you see? A disaster?”

“No, it’s immaculate,” Bach replied. “I got a good look. The labs are secured, and I’d bet there’s still oxygen and space food aboard.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Lynch said. “Even though NASA said to stay out, after hearing your observations, I don’t see a problem.”

G.R. said, “I’ll volunteer to get it.”

“Better check with Ground Control first,” Bach said.

During the time delay, the crewmates waited restlessly for NASA’s approval to search the space station for supplies. Lynch, Deni, and Faith had all been on the station in the past, and as soon as the go-ahead came through, Faith handed G.R. a diagram. “The ship is like a wheel with two intersecting spokes inside. They’re passageways.” She pointed to the diagram. “After you enter from the airlock, go left to the first passageway and take it all the way to the other side. Food storage and the galley are right there.”

G.R. grabbed a nylon tote and a duffel bag and headed to the airlock wearing a portable breathing device.

Kaz hollered, “See if you can find the ship’s log, too.”

“You want food or reading material?” he retorted from behind the airpack mask.

“It’ll be a historical legacy.”

Faith’s words followed at his back. “The logbook’s in the cockpit to the right.”

Bach sat beside Kaz at the electronics area and monitored system reset data. In a lighthearted moment, he leaned over and nuzzled his fiancée’s neck. Neither had made a sound when Lynch yelled from the flight deck, “Get organized for departure. Breaking free of the forcefield will be a critical move. Stop wasting time.”

Kaz glared at the back of Lynch’s head, then turned back to her updates.

Waiting for his download to finish, Bach leaned back, stretched, and sang, “AstroLab sittin’ in the big ol’ sky, someone help this broken craft to fly.” He noticed Kaz grumbling. “What’s wrong?”

She pointed to her computer screen. “This can’t be right.”

Within seconds, both were troubleshooting electronic conflicts.

G.R. bounded in from the airlock. “Good news. I found oxygen and dehydrated food. And I got a bonus of freeze-dried ice cream, fudge ripple. I will serve it up shortly. Mmmm.” He left the supplies in the galley, stepped behind Kaz, and passed the space station’s logbook over her shoulder. “How much time do we have?”

“Don’t bug me,” she replied. “I’m in the middle of something.”

G.R. rolled his eyes and asked Bach, “What’s going on?”

“We’re busy right now. Trying to correct a minor problem.”

Deni whipped her head around, leveled her gaze, and raised her eyebrows. “What kind of minor problem? We’re almost ready to go.”

“Fuel’s not registering,” Bach said.

Lynch’s close-set blue eyes narrowed to slits as he looked back through the cabin. “Not registering? We have one full unit!”

“It’s like everything drained down a big hole.”

“Well, figure it out,” Lynch snapped. “AstroLab’s electronics started working when we got here, Wizard’s stopped, and now this. It’s a glitch. Clear it up!”

For the next hour Bach and Kaz pored over the problem without a word, and tension didn’t ease even when G.R. served the foil packets of freeze-dried, fudge ripple ice cream.

Lynch soon tired of the wait and went to Bach’s workstation to check the current download. After eyeing the data, he sighed hard. “We couldn’t have lost all our fuel; that holding tank has no damage.” He returned to the cockpit and sat down with a thud.

Bach yelled after him, “Maybe something out here in deep space caused it to dry up.”

Another sigh from Lynch. He turned to his left. “Deni, get with NASA to check that possibility.”

“My opinion?” G.R. hollered out with a laugh-snort. “Aliens!”

Faith fingered her necklace, sliding the cross back and forth on the chain. “G.R., that’s not funny.” Her voice lowered, “Glad I brought my Bible.”

NASA processed Deni’s information and radioed back. The fuel was onboard, but not registering. Deni yelled to Bach, “It’s caused by an electromagnetic pulse disrupting the sensors. We should be able to override that.”

“I’ll try to demagnetize, then do a pre-ignition warm-up and see what happens,” he replied. “If it works, we’ll be ready to go in a few minutes, so finish what you’re doing and buckle down.”

A sudden shudder rocked the ship.

Kaz yelled, “My screen went blank!”

Bach grumbled, “Damn! Power storage units are discharging.”

Deni added, “Lost radio contact!”

A warning buzzer split the air. Lights on the cockpit console and overhead emergency systems flashed like a Vegas payoff. The big space station lurched, then rocketed forward with the two smaller ships under its wings. Shouts and screams filled the cabin.

Deni sounded like she’d sucked helium, “Gravity’s blown!”

The sudden acceleration jerked Faith and G.R. from their feet in the galley and propelled them toward the rear bulkhead. Like weightless beanbags bouncing off everything in their paths, their flailing arms grasped wildly for anything within reach.

At the same time, Bach’s and Kaz’s chairs ripped from the floor panels and slammed against the bunks with the two still strapped in.

Deep space flashed past the portholes in a meteoric blur as a violent, unrelenting force mercilessly hurled the three-piece spacecraft across the galaxy.

Lynch tried to reach an oxygen mask, but grinding pressure fused him to his seat. His eyes receded into their sockets and the wrinkles on his face stretched elastically over his ears. “Eight g’s,” he grunted in the chaos.

Books, food packets, air tubes, space gear, and electronic equipment slashed through the cabin like cruel weapons as ten-plus torturous g’s knuckled into helpless life, compressing bodies and minds as the craft ripped through a vast expanse of space, then funneled through a vortex of absolute blackness.

A final cry went unheard. “Oh, God!”

*****

CHAPTER SEVEN

The earthships crashed in deep white sand on a rocky, crater-pocked terrain somewhere in deep space where silence seemed deafening and darkness was absolute. The pitch black atmosphere concealed a peculiar lake thirty yards away.

Inside the AstroLab, blackness hid what looked like the aftermath of a bomb blast where familiar things had taken on outlandish shapes, and dangling debris swayed in the airflow.

Minutes later, a reverberation rocked the huge, three-piece space station forward. The structure groaned like a sick baritone as it sank deeper into its sandy grave. In eerie harmony, a human moan arose from the rubble in the tomblike cabin. Whispers and rustling sounds filtered through the darkness.

Bach opened his eyes but couldn’t see.

A disoriented female called out from the cockpit. “Account yourselves.”

An unrecognizable voice spoke, “Lynch. Both arms broken.”

From aft ship, G.R. groaned. “G.R. here. Can hardly move. My back!”

Strapped in his uprooted seat in the rubble, Bach called out, “I’m okay, but buried in junk.”

In her chair at his side, Kaz cried, “Oh, God, I can’t see. I’m blind!”

Bach comforted her, “Calm down, honey, it’s total blackness. I can’t see either.”

“I was knocked cold,” she said in a panic.

Struggling to breathe, G.R. said, “It’s from G-LOC. Gravity induced loss of consciousness. We blacked out from acceleration forces after losing onboard gravity.”

Deni’s query filtered through the disarray. “Faith?”

No response.

She tried again. “Faith? Are you okay?”

Kaz yelled, “Faith? Where are you?”

Deni’s voice grew forceful, “Bach, try to find a light.”

“What about you, Deni? You okay?” he asked.

“Left ankle’s broken.”

G.R. called out, “Faith!” then mumbled, “In my opinion she can’t be out this long from G-LOC.” He rambled in the darkness as if reading a medical manual. “When pressure increases beyond human endurance it can create a centrifuge that shuts down the metabolic oxygen reserve and impairs cardiovascular response. But the unconscious state lasts no more than twenty-four seconds.” He coughed a couple of times. “I think we went the full twenty-four.” Another cough. “Awakening’s a slow recovery—disoriented, anxious, fearful, memory loss. Sometimes a give-up reaction, but it’ll pass. Still, she can’t be out this long.” After a pause, he yelled again, “Faith, please say something.”

Lynch mumbled, “This ain’t right. This can’t be happenin’.”

Surrounded by rubble, Bach felt around the floor for something to grasp to pull himself up. Teetering as he stood, he lost his directional bearings in the pitch darkness. “G.R., you’re at aft cabin. Say something to guide me through the dark.”

“Here … walk toward my voice.” He waited. “But don’t come all the way. I’m farther than the supply hold area.”

Bach felt his way through the debris following G.R.’s lead, and found the emergency supply hold. He yanked and pulled on the damaged door to get it open, then passed his hands over a jumble of objects inside. He knew by the shape of a handle that he’d found a lantern flashlight, but he couldn’t free it, so he switched it on to see how to get it out. Yellow beams jutted at odd angles from beneath the clutter and the sudden burst of light in absolute blackness momentarily blinded him. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed something odd. Is my mind playing tricks? The lantern’s beam had the appearance of smoke swirling around the cabinet. Maybe it’s a G-LOC effect. When he felt a puff of smoke drift across his face, he knew it wasn’t his imagination. An uneasy feeling stirred in his gut, but it came with a tinge of curiosity. The swirling light rays flickered for a moment, then pulled together in the center of the cabinet and transformed into a yellow mass that throbbed in and out like a beating heart. Little by little, the clustered light formed a three-dimensional sphere suspended in midair. It took on the shape of a man’s face with symmetrical features and peculiar copper-colored eyes that shone with an eerie glow, like a dog’s when a light beam hits them in the dark. As Bach watched, the irises pulsed in and out with a hypnotic effect so strong he couldn’t turn away. He grew weaker by the second, as if his life force were funneling out. He couldn’t stop it, and he couldn’t speak.

The otherworldly face’s hypnotic eyes never wavered as his lips parted and the words, “Follow me,” rolled from a glistening silver tongue.

Bach’s heart pounded so hard the fabric of his jumpsuit moved in and out with each beat. Keep your head, he told himself. Breathe in, breathe out.

“What are you doing, Bach?” Deni yelled. “Hurry up! Faith still hasn’t answered.”

The face dissipated, leaving the flashlight’s pale beam.

Bach glanced through the cabin, eyes searching up and down, side to side. Did the visitor respond to Deni’s voice? “I’m coming!” he yelled back. He didn’t want to, but he took one last look at the light inside the cabinet. No face this time. Should I tell the crew? No, we’ve had enough. No danger apparent; don’t add to the trepidation. He pulled the lantern from the debris and for some reason turned it off, then on again to see if the man’s face would reappear. Nothing. Hoping the others wouldn’t notice his trembling hands, he wrapped them both around the flashlight and passed the yellow beam around the ship’s dungeonish cabin. Visible layers of dust hanging in the air seemed like something from a horror movie with an overactive fog machine.

Kaz scrambled over mounds of trash to Bach’s side and latched onto his arm.

The crewmates’ faces reflected their fear as they got their first look at the disaster’s toll: G.R. in pain on the floor at aft ship; Bach and Kaz together at mid ship; Deni and Lynch strapped in their seats in the cockpit, injured; Faith missing.

“Get movin’, Bach,” Deni yelled, “Find Faith. Be careful where you walk. And, Kaz, we need your help up front.”

“Help me, too,” G.R. said, his voice weak.

Bach found a flat piece of shiny metal in the rubble, propped it up at the mid-ship control center and shone the lantern on it to intensify the light. He looked around the cabin and noticed something near the galley area. To get there, he cleared a footpath and crawled under a portion of dangling ceiling insulation stretched crosswise across the cabin. Then, all the air in his lungs expelled at once when he found Faith’s body curled up and motionless. The others watched as he knelt at her side and felt for a pulse in her neck. When he rolled her onto her back, her body flopped over like a life-sized doll. He tried again to find a heartbeat then announced through a lump in his throat, “Faith is dead.”

Kaz got as close as she dared. “Are you sure? Try again. There’s no blood—nothing seems wrong.”

“She’s dead.”

G.R. tried to get up. “I’m the doctor, I’ll determine who’s dead and who’s not.” A bolt of pain held him in place. “Oh, my back.”

Bach scooted to G.R.’s side. “It doesn’t take a doctor.”

Deni yelled from the cockpit. “Kaz, find the medical supplies. I need an ankle splint—have to get mobile. It’s black as pitch outside, but I want to find out what’s out there.” She mumbled to herself. “I can’t believe this.”

Kaz searched the flotsam of cables, insulation, and damaged equipment, and found the medical kit under a sleep hammock. Carrying the kit in outstretched arms, she grumbled in Spanish all the way to the cockpit, then pushed it to Deni’s lap. “I can’t do it. I get sick seeing blood.” She turned away and burned off frustration by clearing a pathway through the debris.

Deni opened the medical kit without a word. After splinting her ankle and tending to Lynch’s fractured forearms, she hoisted her tall frame onto one foot, pulled a piece of plastic pipe from the debris to use as a walking stick, and hobbled to aft cabin where Bach had just covered Faith’s body with a blanket. Leaning over, she steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder and spoke into his ear. “You positive she’s dead?”

He lifted Faith’s hand and let it drop. “Not a mark on her. It’s like she died for no reason.”

Kaz spoke from behind Deni. “She can’t be dead. She’s just unconscious—breathing shallow. Sometimes people seem dead when they’re not.”

“Let it go, Kaz, she’s dead,” Bach replied. He looked away and his eyes stopped on the gilt-edged pages of Faith’s Bible sticking out of the rubble. He pulled it free and dusted it off on his sleeve, choking on emotion as he placed it at his fallen crewmate’s side.

Kaz backed away, whispering, “Why is Faith the only one dead? Something scary’s going on. What if we die one at a time?”

The copper-eyed face flashed through Bach’s mind. “It’s okay, honey. You’re just in shock. We all are,” he said, lying.

“Faith may be the lucky one,” G.R. said. “The rest of us are lost in space.” He flagged Kaz’s attention. “Please find the painkillers, and water. My throat’s so dry, I’m dyin’.”

Deni limped toward the cockpit to check on Lynch, who hadn’t spoken or left his seat. On the way, something outside a porthole caught her eye. “Oh, my gosh!” she yelped, pressing her face to the window. “What’s going on? Look outside. It’s like somebody turned on an underground light and the whole planet’s glowing gold. The light’s coming from within—gold!”

“What kind of gold? Whaddaya mean ‘gold’?” G.R. yelled.

Bach rushed to a porthole. Speechless for a second, he offered, “It’s hard to describe. The atmosphere’s dark, but there’s a luminescence coming from the ground. Like it originates from within the planet.”

Kaz stood back, gnawing her thumbnail. “Is anybody out there?”

“No. It’s desert-like with mounds and gullies. We’re in sort of a basin, and off in the distance are large craters filled with glowing gold dust. But no small craters.”

Fighting a wild rush of dread, Kaz peeked over Bach’s shoulder. “Maybe we’re on the moon.”

Deni shook her head and looked around the cabin. “We’re way beyond Earth’s solar system. Let’s get organized to ensure our survival.”

“Right,” Bach said. Another peek outside brought an uneasy shrug. “Glowing gold. My mind’s racing through all the studies we did, but a fluorescent glow wasn’t anything I ever read about.”

“Might be radiation, or the astral equivalent,” G.R. offered.

Kaz grew jittery. “I don’t like this. Maybe aliens know we’re here and turned on the lights. We don’t even have a gun.”

“Kaz!” Deni snapped. “Why automatically assume that unknown people are evil? Maybe they’re peaceful and helpful.” Moving debris aside, she saw the American flag on the sleeve of a space suit. She freed the jumpsuit and shook it off, watching as particles fell to the floor from gravity. She would find out more about this alien planet. Limping to the mid-ship control center to check for damage to the built-in equipment, she called to Bach. “Bach. This equipment looks functional. See if you can get something operational. There’s gravity, but it can’t be the AstroLab’s AG. Try to get stats for temperature outside, atmospheric pressure, oxygen. I want to go out and have a look around.”

“No, Deni, we need to stay together.” G.R. said. “There could be dangers, and you’re in no condition.”

“I won’t go far. I’m not going to sit around and wait for time to pass then wish we could turn back the clock and do something. Sooner or later we’re all going to have to go out. Time may be critical to our survival.”

Bach tried to initialize the electronics. “Nothing. Processor’s dead. But one power cell’s operational. Thermal measuring units show seventy-three degrees in here and sixty-eight outside. Maybe I can get a little interior and exterior light going.”

Deni examined the spacesuit she’d found, but it was torn and useless. Scrounging through the wreckage for another, she noticed an area at aft ship where cooler air and a ray of golden light streamed through a three-by-four-inch split in the ship’s framework. “Bach,” she yelled. “Come here. Hurry. The ship’s split open.”

Bach inspected the opening with a huff of concern that soon changed to excitement. “This is good—it’s good!” He yelled to the others, “We got a sizeable rip in the framework and outer hull back here that compromised the vapor and compression seals. We’ve been breathing foreign air for over half an hour with no ill effects.”

Deni stuck her face close to the hole to get a better look. “That means I can go outside without suiting up.” She angled one eye full into the opening. “A lake?” She gasped. “Is that a lake? It’s so still it looks like black glass.”

Bach stuck his face next to hers and peered through the opening. “Looks like a lake with a big boulder or platform in it, but no reflection in the water.”

Deni steadied herself on the makeshift cane and looked at him with determination in her eyes. “I’m going out.”

“Don’t open that door, Deni,” Kaz warned.

Bach stepped back. “You can’t go by yourself, Deni. I’ll go with you.”

Kaz clambered across debris to Bach. “Don’t go.” She grabbed his arm. “You both don’t need to go. She can go if she wants to. G.R. might be right. Something bad might happen. We can’t get separated. Don’t go!”

“We can’t just sit here, Kaz.” He wrestled from her grasp. “We need to know where we stand.”

Lynch called out in a pained southern drawl, “How you gonna get out? Our boarding door’s flush against the space station.”

Bach pushed his hair back from his forehead and exhaled. “Okay, we’ll use the back ramp. The Lab’s tail is clear. I’ll open it manually.”

“Gonna strain your guts crankin’ that ramp open,” Lynch said, “and you’re gonna jeopardize all of us to whatever alien life forms may be out there. But if that’s what you want, the crank’s right there alongside the ramp.”

“Can’t you wait until daylight?” Kaz asked in a high voice. “At least wait until you can see more before going out there.”

Bach grasped Kaz’s shoulders and looked into her worried brown eyes. “We can see enough to move forward. It’ll be all right.”

She stepped back, face in her hands.

He unlatched a clamp and removed the crank, then put it into the turn hole.

Kaz yelled, “Bach!”

As Bach turned the cumbersome crank with both hands, each turn inched the ramp farther downward to slowly reveal the golden, moon-like world beyond. His nervous crewmates stood there breathing heavily. He stopped halfway to rest. Then, minutes of agonizing anticipation ended with the door fully open and the earthlings face to face with the mysterious planet.

Bach and Deni stepped a few feet out onto the ramp. He looked left, then right, and for some reason his mind rewound to one night as a kid when his big brother took him into a Halloween haunted house on a full moon. The mix of anxiety and titillation was the same now as then—almost unbearable. Get over it. Swallow your apprehension and do the same thing you did that night. Go forward bravely.

By the time the two stepped off the ramp, Kaz had wrung her hands and bounced from foot to foot a dozen times. “Bach, come back! Please….” The world outside the door seemed to absorb her voice. As her crewmates moved farther from the ship, she rushed to Lynch in the cockpit. “What’s going to happen to us?”

The commander smirked. “Face it, Kaz, we’re in an astral hinterland. We got no chance of survival.”

“Don’t say that.” She walked away then rushed back, leaned into his face and focused on his beady blue eyes. “Why?”

“It ain’t quantum physics, Kaz. We’re lost in space on a desolate, moon-like planet.”

“But it’s not the moon, so where are we?”

Ignoring her, he stared straight ahead.

She darted back to the ramp. “Something bad’s going to happen, I feel it, I—”

“Listen, Kaz,” G.R. interjected, “Earth has deserted areas and is inhabited by millions. This place is probably the same. In my opinion, it’s just a matter of time until someone comes for us.”

On return to the AstroLab, Deni held onto Bach’s shoulder to navigate the soft sand. “I’m amazed that we haven’t heard a sound other than voices from our ship,” she said.

Bach entered first and announced, “We’ve washed up on a deserted celestial shore. Don’t know if it’s good or bad news, but we didn’t see anybody.”

Deni added, “It doesn’t seem an ideal habitat for anyone.”

Kaz peeked outside. “Well, in G.R.’s opinion, someone is going to come for us.” She looked at G.R. “Now who might that be?”

Lynch stared at the control panel and replied for G.R. “A little green man—for you.” His sarcasm ended when a gauge flickered on the console and grabbed his attention. He watched as it transformed into a glowing yellow energy form pulsing in and out in the golfball-sized circle. A face materialized, and within seconds the apparition’s hypnotic, copper-colored eyes weakened the commander’s mental processes. Lynch reacted by trying to touch it, but a scorching pain shot through his hand and arm and moved his senses further from reality. The disconcerting face whispered, “Welcome,” then dissolved away. Lynch’s throat tightened and he started to sweat. Maybe he was in shock.

“What else is out there?” asked G.R.

“We couldn’t see too far with the lighting—it seems deserted except for the lake,” Bach said. “There’s a partially submerged, flat-topped boulder in it as big as a bus. No vegetation visible anywhere, but plenty of sand. The space station’s dug into it deep.”

Deni nodded. “There’s no sound or movement in the distance. No stars or moon. The sky is pure black, but that beautiful glow-in-the-dark gold illuminates everything from the ground. And no signs of habitation; we may be the first of a new breed.”

“Oh, no,” Kaz whimpered.

“Our biggest concern right now is food and water,” Bach added. “There’s enough to stretch out for one, maybe two weeks, but we’ll need more water for sanitation. I’ll try to restore the space station’s hydroponic gardens and merge the electronics and hardware from both the station and Wizard—see if I can’t get something up and running. First, I want to test the lake water for potability.” Bach searched the rubble for a water test kit and, after finding it, crouched beside G.R. and spoke confidentially, “In all your biological studies, have you ever encountered a phenomenon where water’s so still it looks like black glass?”

G.R. shook his head. “You’re saying the lake is totally motionless?”

“It was, until I tossed in a handful of sand.”

“And…?”

“It sank straight down with a gurgling stream. But then came a churning or heaving in that area of the water, followed by the whole lake transforming into what looked like a caldron of hissing bubbles that seemed hungry.”

“Hungry?”

“Don’t know how else to describe it—like they wanted to attack something.”

G.R. raised his Neanderthal-looking brows. “Hmmm, varying densities could bring unusual movements, but bubbles? It could contain microorganisms, or something crazy like astral piranhas. Throw in something edible, like food crumbs. See what happens before you touch it. If the only problem is the bubbles, it might be a simple technicality due to difference in gravity or atmospheric pressure. But the black—I don’t know.”

Lynch blurted out from the cockpit, “Something just appeared in a control panel gauge. A man’s face, three-dimensional, with eerie eyes that seemed to look straight into my mind. His tongue flashed, like silver metal. I tried to reach ‘n’ touch the image, but my arm and hand hurt.” Everyone stared as Lynch continued without emotion. “It seemed to be projected from somewhere beyond. And I ain’t crazy, but it spoke ’n’ said, ‘Welcome,’ then faded away.”

Deni looked at Lynch with enlarged eyes, rested her fists on her hips and rocked her head back and forth. “You saw a face in the control panel with eyes that tried to control you? And it spoke English? You’re still in shock.” She backed away. “That’s normal after G-LOC.”

“I’m not in shock,” Lynch snapped. “I was compelled to look, but sensed evil. What if it was Satan?”

“You didn’t see Satan!” Deni stated. “There’s a logical explanation for whatever it was.”

“He was real. I tried to touch him.”

Bach got that sinking feeling he gets when his data panels crash. His silent exhalation formed the words, “Oh, God,” and he tuned out the rest of the conversation, wondering how many hypnotic, copper-eyed, extraterrestrials they were up against. One? Two? More?

Kaz scurried to Bach and rambled nonstop, sounding like an old cassette tape played at fast-forward. “I’ve got a feeling that something bad’s going to happen. Like on earth when someone says that a spaceship came down and the aliens took them aboard and did bad or weird things to them. What if they stick needles in our navels?”

G.R. spoke up. “First of all Kaz, we’re the aliens. And second, Lynch told us that the face said, ‘Welcome.’ That’s not scary.”

Bach tucked the test kit under his arm and headed to the ramp with dried space food clenched in his fist. “Goin’ to do the water analysis.” He cast a final wary eye at Lynch who sat staring at the control panel. “Hey, Lynch, call me if you see the face again. I’ll check it out.”

*****

CHAPTER EIGHT

With Bach’s statement ringing in his ears, Lynch wasn’t about to have his authority undermined, and he was angry that his crewmates gave no credence to the worrisome face he believed was Satan. Determined to recoup his leadership status, the commander barked at Deni, “Get busy. See if you can get something operational. Raise someone or something on the comm links.”

She limped to the cockpit. “It’s all damaged, Lynch. You don’t think….”

“Do it.”

Using energy from the functioning power cell, Deni tweaked the electronics and got a damaged component to kick on with erratic squeals and flashes of light. But a louder, more powerful whine ripped their attention away.

Lynch leapt to his feet and hovered over Deni’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what that is!” She flipped switches and turned dials with an uneasy huff. “It’s not us.”

As the ear-numbing sound intensified, the startled crewmates bounced nervous glances off each other’s faces and looked from viewports and windows. Within seconds, the sheer power of approaching engines shook the three-piece earthship as if it were a pocket-sized toy.

#

Bach tried to make it back to the ship, but vibrations from the incoming craft spawned a waterspout that lifted him from his feet and plunged him into the lake. He struggled to swim from the bubbling whirlpool, but couldn’t tell up from down. Thrashing about helplessly, he felt himself funneling farther downward, and at one point thought he was going to black out. When the incoming ship’s engines powered down for landing, the turbulent water calmed a little and he shot upwards. But before he reached the surface his head hit something hard. An involuntary gasp filled his nostrils with a burning, acrid odor. His face was above the water, but he couldn’t see. He swam forward for a few yards, but again hit something solid. Then he realized that he was in an air space under the giant boulder. He felt around for a way out, and tried diving down, but the ship’s idling engines, or something in the powerful mechanics, produced an unnatural pressurization that held him in the air space.

#

Lynch, Deni, Kaz and G.R. had nowhere to hide in the earthship as the thunderous assault of the incoming engines wound down to a pulsating purr just beyond the AstroLab’s open door. Deni yelled to Kaz. “Close the ramp!”

“Hurry,” G.R. added.

Kaz rushed to aft ship and grabbed the crank. She couldn’t miss seeing the crimson-colored, boomerang-shaped spacecraft parked just thirty yards away with its engines idling and crisscrossing red laser beams slashing across the barren terrain from thin rectangular windows in its midsection. Trembling, she whispered, “Lynch saw Satan,” and then she couldn’t move.

“Kaz!” Deni yelled. “Take a breath and crank!”

Kaz jerked in response and murmured, “Breath! Okay!” She tightened her grip on the crank and lopped it end-over-end with such force her body bounced up and down. The weighty door rose an excruciating half-inch with each turn. She cranked harder, until her hands burned and arms ached as if they were pulling from their sockets. Grunting and groaning with teeth gnashed, she shrieked in frustration at having the ramp only two feet off the ground.

A door slid open on the metallic red spaceship’s near side and five dark figures stepped out, single file. As the aliens approached the AstroLab, Kaz’s legs started to buckle, but it wasn’t from exhaustion. The astral life forms looked like men on Earth; two blond-haired, two dark-haired—one considerably taller than the others—and one with curly black hair and brown skin. Brilliant blue jumpsuits clung to every muscle of their well-defined bodies, and yellow utility belts at their waists held eight unidentifiable devices. Burnished silver greaves, like those worn by Grecian warriors, sheathed their legs from knee to ankle.

Kaz held the crank but forgot to turn it. She could only stare. The five burly men looked like Superman minus the big S and red cape. As they neared the ship, the shorter, dark-haired man jogged a few yards forward and hopped onto the ramp. Kaz snapped back and frantically turned the crank. The stranger neared with a smile and saluted with what looked like a Boy Scout salute. He stepped inside. “Welcome to Jenesis.” He moved Kaz’s hands from the crank and reversed it to lower the ramp. His colleagues came aboard talking to each other in English.

The aliens assessed the other earthlings who were injured and too shocked to do anything but stare. Wasting no time, the two blond-haired men headed to the airlock leading to the space station.

G.R. yelled at their backs, “Don’t go in there. The space station’s laboratory may have sustained damage. You’ll risk contamination.” When the men continued, he yelled louder, “Don’t go in there! There are biohazards from research and experiments.”

One replied without looking back. “We have safeguards. We must know what’s aboard before leaving the ships unattended.”

Lynch turned on his authority. “There’s no one else aboard. The space station and Wizard are unoccupied.”

The men opened the airlock hatch and crawled through, shining a light ahead.

Deni didn’t blink, not wanting to miss a second of being in the company of astral beings that looked and spoke like earthlings. But although they appeared friendly, nothing could be taken for granted. To spark a kinship with the black man she asked, “‘Leaving the ships unattended’? Where are you taking us?”

“We are agents from Ulwor,” he replied. “You will be welcome there.”

She tried to piece tidbits together. “But when you came aboard, you said this was Jenesis.”

The black agent walked to the flight deck and snooped around as he spoke. “Our planet is Jenesis. You’ve crashed in the neutral sector. We are from the continent of Ulwor.”

The two dark-haired agents rifled around and picked through the wreckage, then the tall one lifted the blanket covering Faith’s body. “I’m sorry to see that you lost one of your crew.”

Kaz moved to his side and searched his face with tense eyes. “We don’t know how she died. Nothing seems wrong and there’s no blood or anything. What could’ve happened to her?”

He parted Faith’s left eyelid with his gloved fingers and looked at her eye. “No time to examine her now,” he said. “Someone will come back later.”

“She’s our crewmate. We can’t leave her here.”

“Her death will be handled properly,” the tall man said, “at a later time.”

The two blond-haired agents returned from the space station. Both carried transparent sacks filled with vials and research materials.

G.R. watched in alarm as the men walked by with the old experiments. “Please don’t expose those!” he begged. “Please handle them carefully!”

“You have nothing to worry about,” one replied as they headed out the door. The heart-shaped frame holding Kaz’s photo showed from the side of his bag.

The black agent announced, “Time to depart your ship. No time to search for personal effects.”

Lynch asked, “Will we get medical help?”

“Your injuries will be taken care of.”

The three remaining agents gathered around the four AstroLab crewmates and escorted them from their ship. Lynch and a dark-haired agent were first down the ramp, followed by G.R. steadied by Kaz on one side and the black agent on the other. Noting Deni’s splinted ankle and the makeshift cane, the tall, dark-haired alien held her arm to assist. She stared without letting it show—the man stood a foot taller than she. Beyond the doorway, the luminous red, boomerang-shaped craft idled near the lake. Like something from a scary sci-fi movie, the water’s surface churned with hissing bubbles in reaction to the ship’s engines. Hobbling down the ramp in the agent’s grip, Deni secretly looked for Bach. He wasn’t in the AstroLab when the aliens arrived, and was nowhere in sight.

The agent pulled her to a stop at the end of the ramp. “Wait here.” He rushed back inside, headed straight to Faith’s body, and lifted the blanket. Her head was turned to one side with eyes closed. Wisps of blond hair framed her angelic face and the gold cross pendant lay on her chest. He grasped the chain and examined the cross. Muttering something under his breath he pulled off his glove, unclasped the necklace, and stuck it under a flap on his utility belt as he darted down the ramp.

Once in his ship, the tall agent seated Deni with Lynch, Kaz, and G.R. on a semicircular padded bench just inside the door. He passed through a darkened alcove leading from the holding area to the cockpit where the aliens from Ulwor all spoke in hushed voices.

Elaborate surveillance systems clicked and flashed around the crewmates. Deni whispered to the others, “Watch what you say … recorded.”

G.R. tried to sit upright, but grabbed his lower back with both hands and groaned through clenched teeth. “I don’t care who they are, as long as they give us medical attention.”

Kaz groused at Lynch, “You and your big idea of making contact.”

“We didn’t contact them,” he replied in an iron-edged whisper.

She sighed forcefully. Her crewmates stared. Staring back, she suddenly realized Bach wasn’t there and leapt up with a shout. “Bach? Where’s Bach?”

Deni grabbed her. “Kaz, no!”

The tall agent appeared in the inner doorway. He pounded his open hand with his fist and scrutinized the crewmates’ faces one-by-one. “What’s bok?”

The earthlings made no eye contact. When silence grew uncomfortable, Lynch spoke out. “She’s askin’ for her books, the ship’s logs.” He exaggerated his twangy drawl. “She maintains the books.” He nodded toward Kaz. “She hit her head when we crashed. She’s not right.”

The agent walked away. “She won’t need books.”

The man was barely out of sight when Kaz inched from her seat and, before her crewmates could stop her, backed toward the open door and slipped outside like human liquid. She rushed toward the AstroLab, looking for Bach on the way. “I’m not leaving without him.”

Footsteps closed in strong from behind and the tall agent grabbed her with a powerful overhand grip. “You’ve jeopardized your future.”

She stiffened in his grasp. “I need … I need my books.”

The man stared from steely dark eyes. “You’re lying about books. What are you after?”

Trembling, Kaz turned on a girlish charm. “No, honest. There’s nothing else of value except our journals. They have specs and communications frequencies.” Then came a brainstorm. “And there’s data on the lab experiments.”

“Lab experiments?” He hesitated for a moment. “All right, find the books.”

With the agent at her side, Kaz plodded toward the earthships, covertly searching for Bach on the way. On the chance he’d made it back to the ship, she stopped walking as they neared and talked loudly to the agent. “You’re so nice to let me get my books from the ship.” She touched his bicep. “Will you get one of my crewmates to help me, or will you help? I’ll have trouble finding them by myself.”

He pushed her forward, air huffing from his nose. “You wanted the books, you get them.”

The alien looked on as Kaz searched the disarrayed cabin and complained.

Bach was nowhere to be found.

Within minutes, the agent grew impatient. “That’s it, long enough.” He grabbed Kaz’s arm just as she found the first book in a pile of trash.

“Gosh, you seemed nice at first, but now….” She shoved the book to his chest, expecting him to hold it. He pushed it back. Her temper flared. “Don’t you know how to treat guests in your solar system?”

“It’s not a solar system, it’s a zone.”

“Zone? Who cares? You’re supposed to be nice.”

“Nice, like the people on your planet?” he said.

“Yes, we would treat aliens to the best of everything.”

He smirked. “That’s not what happens to the blue planet’s alien visitors and you know it.”

“The blue planet? It’s Earth. And what would you know about Earth? You’re just a grunt who works your planet’s security.”

“That shows how much you know.” He puffed up with pride. “We’re Rooks—Rulers of other kingdoms. Now if you want your books, hurry up, and shut up!”

Rooks. Rulers of other kingdoms. His words hung in the air. Heart pounding, Kaz searched in silence for the other journals as the irritated Rook looked on. When she found the third book, he prodded her out the door, never offering to help with the heavy load.

Trudging across the barren planet with the Rook on her heels, Kaz’s cynical side surfaced at seeing red laser lights zinging from the alien spacecraft’s windows. The lights looked like those in a trendy nightclub, but this nightclub was more likely a taxi to hell. She looked at the Rook and mindlessly grumbled, “I hate nightclubs and taxis.”

He ignored her. When they reached his ship he lifted a journal from her arms, thumbed through the pages then slammed it shut. “You wasted my time on this primitive drivel?” He grabbed the other books from her grasp and strode to the gurgling lake.

Kaz caught up just as he hurled one of the books into the water. She swatted at his arms and yelled, “Stop it! Don’t destroy our records.”

“We have no use for such nonsense.” He flung the second and third books into the lake then turned around with a humorless laugh. She lunged like a wildcat and knocked him off balance. His arms windmilled like an overwound toy as he pitched backward into the bubbling black water. When he tried to stand, a froth of gray foam stuck to his blue bodysuit and took him back down.

Kaz hid her amusement. “Thrash in your bubblebath, Bigfoot,” she whispered with a smirk.

The Rook crawled to shore on hands and knees, coughing, sputtering, and uttering a rash of strange words. The gold cross and chain fell from his utility belt onto the sand, unnoticed. He grabbed Kaz by the arm. “That death lake could have killed me.”

“Death lake?”

“Shut up.” He shoved her toward his ship.

She complained all the way. “Stop it, you’re hurting me. You’re not very nice. Where are you taking us?”

He pushed her onto the bench beside her crewmates. The door sucked closed on his words. “To Ulwor—the Ultimate World.”

As the ship ascended, its red laser lights cast a hellish aura over the golden sand and churning lake. From narrow rectangular windows, the earthlings saw a fading glimpse of the space station with the two smaller ships tucked under its wings. The words United States of America near the AstroLab’s tail bid them farewell. Kaz’s cry for Bach blended in with the engines’ whine.

#

When the enemy ship went airborne, the vacuum-like pressure under the boulder eased off and Bach struggled to swim out. Billions of hissing bubbles clung to him as if trying to restrain him, but he fought with every stroke to surface, and exploded from the water gasping for breath. The hot air reeked of noxious rocket fuel, yet he hungrily sucked it deep into his lungs as he staggered from the lake and fell to his knees.

He looked into the black Jenesis sky as the last speck of red light from the agents’ ship vanished into the darkness. He closed his eyes, but the image wouldn’t leave, and the finality of it all stirred emotions he’d never felt before. Alone and shivering, Bach wept. “I failed them. They were lost. It was my job to get them home, now they’re lost again, and Faith is dead.” He pounded the sand and gnashed his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. “I’m closer to heaven, so why am I tasting hell?”

When an ounce of courage finally opened his eyes, Bach pushed himself up from the sand. But there was something more than sand beneath his right hand. He lifted Faith’s necklace from the shore and stroked the small cross, wondering how it got there. Staring into space, he put the necklace in his pocket with a cry of anguish that echoed across the desolate landscape. Then he turned back to the lake and waded in, waist deep, to his shoulders, then disappearing beneath the frothy surface.

The water churned and bubbled like a witch’s cauldron.

*****

CHAPTER NINE

Soaked to the bone and covered in seething bubbles, Bach slogged to shore with a logbook in his hands.

He refreshed himself with a few deep breaths then, hoping to find the other two journals, waded back into the water. But a strange sensation stopped him short. His body felt heavy, as if the air pressure had changed. Stress reaction, he told himself. Filling his lungs with air, he prepared to dive under again when a peculiar chilling breeze rolled through the darkness and the air quivered with vibrations that prickled his skin like the charge from a nine-volt battery on the tongue. A faint sound, like muffled clapping, closed in from all sides, and a cross-shaped imprint appeared on the glowing sand.

“Oh, God, more invaders!” he cried. “I’m not going without a fight.” He splashed out of the water, raced to the AstroLab and plowed through the debris for something to use as a weapon. A two-foot length of metal pipe would have to do.

The fluttering sound intensified with an ear-popping vacuum. Then everything fell so quiet Bach heard the blood from his pounding heart coursing through his ears.

A faint swish outside broke the stillness, followed by footsteps of more than one moving across the sand. Bach raised his weapon over his head and flattened his back to the wall alongside the open doorway.

Someone reached the ramp. Their approaching steps drew closer, then stopped at the doorframe. A light shone through the cabin and a female called out, “Hello?”

Bach’s voice cracked. “Who’s there? Don’t move. Put your weapons down.”

“Our weapons are secured.”

“Just stay right where you are. What do you want?”

The woman spoke, “We’re here to take you to safety.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“We’ve come in peace. Unfortunately, the Rooks arrived first. You’ve crashed in what’s supposed to be the neutral sector, but you can’t stay here.”

“Rooks? Neutral sector?” his words tumbled out.

A fragile but firm elderly male voice spoke out with a sense of urgency. “Please, may we enter? You are in great danger.”

Bach readied for battle. The pipe quivered in his hands over his head. “How many?”

“Two. My daughter and I,” the man replied.

“Only she can come in … and slowly.” He tightened his grip and prepared to swing.

The female flashed the light through the wreckage as she stepped inside. Bach tried to stifle his heavy breathing, but couldn’t. She turned to see him flattened to the wall with the pipe raised menacingly over his head and an astonished look on his face.

She moved forward and extended her hand.

He shook the pipe as a warning, scrutinizing her shimmery silver jumpsuit and odd knee-high platinum boots. When his eyes stopped on her face, he saw before him a woman so rivetingly beautiful he felt like he’d grabbed a hot wire that surged so hard he couldn’t let go. Silky dark hair fell softly over her shoulders, and eyes the color of blue satin sheets highlighted a face beyond the standard for perfection. A circular, gold-colored crystal icon on the jumpsuit over her heart seemed alive with energy, as if illuminated. His eyes moved from her face to the transparent icon, to her outstretched hand. He loosened his grip on the pipe and dropped his hand to his side.

She seemed to smile.

He stared without moving. The woman’s sky-blue eyes almost overpowered him. She has to be a friend, he rationalized, she’s young and courageous, and doesn’t have a weapon. But, beautiful people can be evil too.

“My name is Star.” Her words startled him. “Welcome to Jenesis.”

“Star? Genesis?” he mumbled softly. Oh, God.

“May my father come in? We won’t harm you, but the enemy will return when they learn you’re here. We have little time.”

Bach stepped sideways, rambling, almost tripping over his words. “We’re from Earth. A space mission failed and our ships crashed.” He wasn’t sure how much to say. “Those others … what are they gonna do to my fiancée and crewmates? We have to stay together.”

The man entered with his hands resting on a utility belt around his waist. He, too, wore a silver jumpsuit with the same glowing golden icon over the heart. His weathered face, framed by white hair and bushy brows, reflected wisdom of generations past.

He stopped in front of Bach, just short of where the pipe could reach. Bach couldn’t help but notice the elderly man’s round wire trifocals and striking ice-blue eyes. The old man spoke, “Friend, my name is Altemus. We know you’re from the blue planet. We monitored the forcefield that brought you in but couldn’t prevent enemy intervention. Your crewmates fell into the wrong hands.”

Bach tapped the pipe against his open left hand. His eyes darted from Altemus to Star. “Where are they?”

“On the continent of Ulwor.”

“Will I see them again?”

“Doubtful,” said the elder.

“What’s gonna happen to them? I’ll rescue them,” he said without waiting for an answer.

Altemus stepped forward, gripped Bach’s shoulders and nailed his steely blue eyes to the earthling’s. “Listen. You’ll not see them again. But you’ll be safe with us in Dura. What’s your name?”

Bach tried to inch backward, but bumped into the wall. “Bach, Bach Turner.”

Wiping his hands on his hips as if to dry them, Altemus looked Bach up and down. “You’re wet from the lake. Call yourself twice blessed my friend, eluding the enemy and escaping the death lake.”

“Death lake?”

“Yes. That’s one of two phases. It’s obviously not in death mode now, but if it were, and you had stuck in even a finger, it would have been liquefied.”

Bach swallowed hard.

“Hurry now. Are there belongings you want to bring?”

Bach scanned the rubble-strewn cabin. “A few.”

Altemus sighed. “Time is critical. May I help?”

“Uh, no. I don’t have much.”

Searching for possessions, Bach noticed Star and her father kneeling beside Faith’s body.

Altemus looked at Bach, “Someone will come soon to bury your friend.”

Bach stared at his lifeless crewmate. “Nothing seems wrong. She just stopped breathing. Are you going to bury her at … at Dura?”

Star helped her father to his feet and shook her head. “We can’t risk contamination. We have stringent prevention measures regarding illness and disease since the Specter’s biological warfare.”

“The Specter?”

“Ulwor’s dark power, the embodiment of evil, a master of seduction, and lord of the Rooks—Rulers of other kingdoms,” she replied.

Rulers of other kingdoms? Bach tried to process Star’s words.

Altemus motioned to him. “Get your belongings.”

Bach tossed a few things into a pillowcase, slung it over his back, and reluctantly took his last breath inside the AstroLab as he stepped from the ship. Two feet out, he stopped short, gawking. The aliens’ ship looked like an oversized, mechanized dragonfly with translucent blue and green wings extending from a long, tapered body. The cockpit’s dark convex windows were positioned as eyes in a bug’s head. “A dragonfly-principled spacecraft?” he mumbled aloud.

Altemus led Bach forward by the arm. “We’ll bring you up to speed on our planet when we reach Dura, our home continent.” He rested a hand on Bach’s back. “We’ll not harm you.”

Struggling to digest what seemed surreal, Bach looked at the lake. “One more thing,” he said, “I’d like to retrieve my journals; two are still in the water. Will I liquefy if I go back in?”

Altemus shook his head. “It’s obviously safe today.”

Bach raised his eyebrows. “How do you know when it’s a death lake?”

“I have a way of determining the phases; or you can find out the hard way. I’ll explain later.”

Star stepped to Bach’s side. “Will your books be usable after submersion?”

“Yes. They seal hermetically when we close them, and we use a space ink and paper unaffected by water, heat, or light. I can’t leave them behind.” He headed to the lake, adding over his shoulder, “That information could help establish a link between our civilization and yours.”

While waiting for Bach to retrieve the books from the lake, Star and Altemus returned to the earthship and wrapped Faith’s body in the blanket that had covered her, then carried her outside to a nearby sand dune and prepared a resting place.

It took Bach seven dives into the hissing lake to find both journals. Emerging waterlogged, breathless, and trailing a froth of bubbles, he put the books in the pillowcase with his belongings then headed to the mound where Altemus and Star had taken Faith’s body.

Altemus poured the final container of sand on the grave.

Bach swallowed a lump in his throat and said, “Thank you for taking care of her. I didn’t want to leave her alone in the ship.”

Altemus steadied himself with a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and struggled to stand. He turned to Bach. “Your crewmate’s upper vertebrae were shattered and her spinal cord was severed at the base of the brain.”

Bach hesitated. “How could you tell?”

He pulled an instrument from his utility belt that looked like a fat ballpoint pen with a clear marble on the tip. A viewscreen ran the length. “Body scanner,” he said.

Filled with sorrow yet relieved to know Faith hadn’t died by diabolical means, Bach closed his eyes for a moment, then blurted out, “Wait, please,” and bolted to the AstroLab.

Huge strides carried him up the ramp. He grabbed Faith’s Bible and ran back to the gravesite while flipping through the dog-eared pages to find a suitable passage to read at his copilot’s wake. But he soon closed the worn leather cover and dropped his arms to his sides. “I don’t know where to look.” Head bowed, he recited the Twenty-third Psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd….” Then he kissed his fingertips and touched Faith’s grave.

Altemus and Star knelt and held hands. Star first prayed aloud, “Almighty Creator of the universe and our hope for eternal life, please save her soul,” then she drew a circle on the sandy grave with her finger. Altemus retraced it.

Trying to understand the significance of the circle, Bach stood with the Bible tucked under one arm and his hands poked into his pockets. But when he felt Faith’s cross and chain in the soft lining, his focus changed. He handed the Bible to Altemus and, without words, pulled the necklace from his pocket. Struggling to speak, he showed his rescuers the cross. “This belonged to Faith. It’s symbolic of God’s love.”

Altemus glanced at Star. He touched the cross and squinted his pale blue eyes as if trying for a better look. “God? Interesting.”

Bach stepped to Star’s side. “I want you to have it. Faith would have loved sharing it with another civilization.” He dangled the chain between his fingers and stepped behind her to drape it around her neck. While fumbling to secure the tiny clasp under her dark hair, a pleasurable, almost intoxicating fragrance emanating from her skin seemed to overpower him. He closed his eyes and pressed closer to her hair. Fresh spring rain on flowers. No, more like the mist from a rainbow, or the blossoms on an apple tree. Wanting to prolong the experience, he used clumsiness as a ruse. “Sorry,” he said, “can’t seem to secure it.”

Star’s hands slid along the chain to his. She fastened the clasp, then lifted the cross in her hand to examine it. “Fascinating.” She caressed its smooth surface, then pulled a golden chain from under the neckline of her jumpsuit. A crystal circle the color of a sunbeam hung from it. The strange circle looked electrified. She held it up for Bach to see. “This eternity symbol represents the tunnel of light where we communicate with and worship our Creator.”

Bach stared. The golden circle had the same powerful illumination as the one on her jumpsuit. Trying to understand, he replayed her words in his mind. “This eternity symbol represents the tunnel of light where we communicate with and worship our Creator.”

Star slid Faith’s cross back and forth on its chain and positioned it on top of her eternity symbol. The cross fit exactly within the open circle.

Altemus spoke up. “Time to go.”

*****

CHAPTER TEN

Inside the dragonfly rescue craft, Bach sat behind Altemus in a gel-filled jumpseat that instantly conformed to the shape of his body. He’d already overdosed on incredulity, so the weird seat and a cockpit filled with flickering lights, suspended tubes, video screens, something that looked like an empty picture frame, and voice- and touch-activated gadgetry hardly fazed him. With Star at the controls and Altemus manning surveillance, the dragonfly levitated with a gentle swish, then the wings retracted and it shot like a bullet through the dark sky.

On the ride to Dura, Bach felt like a kid wanting answers to a hundred questions but was too bewildered to ask. Everything, including conversation, moved at a pace almost too fast to grasp. But something Altemus had said a few minutes earlier stuck in his thoughts and he wanted to know more. “Altemus. You mentioned that you studied life forms on planets in other galaxies through surveillance technology. What did you think of Earth, the blue planet as you called it?”

Altemus paused before answering. “We found the technology primitive, but saw potential for advancement to a more sophisticated level with proper guidance. We tried repeatedly to make electronic contact with your communications equipment, and easily adapted to your language, but never received a response.”

Bach mulled over the information. How could these guys see details on Earth? They’d have to have something better than our interferometers. A new perspective of his rescuers came with a pang of fear, but he had to ask, “How advanced is your civilization in comparison?”

“If we measured intelligence as is done on your planet,” Altemus replied, “our results would be superior by four times.”

“Intelligence four times higher than ours?”

“Correct. But now our progress is slowed by limited resources.”

Bach nervously digested the information. These people are far smarter than genius level on Earth? He suddenly asked Altemus, “Will you tell me about the lake now?”

“You may find it confusing,” the elder replied. “The death lake has two irregular cycles. They’re identical in appearance, but opposite in consequence. At times, like now, it’s pure with antiseptic properties we depend on for periodic cleansing of ourselves from contaminants—a preventive measure. However, medicinal properties can’t heal once disease sets in. Other times it transmutes to a deadly phase, when ionized microorganisms break into lethal enzymes that feast on living matter. Death is agonizing, but swift. Eventually, the enzymes consume themselves, save a scant few, and the lake becomes pure—but only temporarily. The big boulder out there is a fusion of metals, synthetics, and other undigested matter.”

Bach thought about his time in the lake and squirmed a little. “You said you have a way to determine the deadly phases?”

“We’ll go over that later,” Altemus said.

The trip to Dura may have taken minutes, or hours, Bach couldn’t tell. He’d lost perspective of time in the presence of planet Jenesis’s scientific patriarch, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

During his short ride in the dragonfly, Bach got a brief look at a portion of the crater-pocked planet, but when the ship descended through a shallow mountainous region, he tried not to react to the surreal sight dead ahead of three sprawling blue-white superstructures, in a horseshoe configuration, perched on the horizon. The pentagonal-shaped buildings looked like huge crystal prisms. As the ship drew nearer, the prisms’ exteriors lit up and hundreds of spines of eye-blinding blue light flashed across the golden planet like high-intensity searchlights. “Oh, my gosh,” he whispered under his breath, trying to take it all in. “It looks like a theme park’s futureland.”

Altemus chuckled. “Lots of surprises, huh?” He didn’t wait for Bach’s answer. “The three structures are Skyprisms. They comprise the civilized area on our continent, Dura. The one on the left is the operations space center, the middle one’s for shelter and dining, and the third one’s for training and recreation. The blue lasers are surveillance and defense systems that detect emissions of airborne and land-roving craft. We use a unique fuel at Dura, so foreign spacecraft identification is easy.”

Skyprisms? Unique fuel? Bach’s thought processes pegged to the red zone.

“At one time the Skyprisms levitated above the terrain,” Altemus added, “but things here have changed.”

Nearing the space center, Star extended the dragonfly’s layered wings. The ship cut through the air without producing the slightest sensation as it powered down. From the bug-eyed windows, Bach saw that they were heading toward a holographic blue door in the operations Skyprism. But as they came in for a landing he worried that they were flying too fast and the door wouldn’t open in time. He braced for impact. When the ship slowed to a stop, he looked back toward the closed door and mumbled, “Oh, my God. We flew right through it!”

While Altemus shut down the engines and entered a code on the flight deck keyboard, Bach took in all he could from the windows. Inside the huge spaceport several utilitarian-looking spacecraft were parked in formation in the foreground, and a production area with the framework of an enormous spacecraft under construction in the distance.

The three stepped from the dragonfly, then passed through a short metal tunnel ending at an elevator-like door. Star wrote on a touchpad on the wall with her finger then leaned forward and pressed her cheek against something that looked like a blue coin. A tiny motor whirred.

“Determines DNA,” Altemus offered without elaborating.

The door slid open. From there, they rode a tubular transport car to the housing and dining Skyprism. Bach was shown to a spacious private room and left to clean up and rest.

*****

Alone and uneasy, the earthling glanced around the alien room. Deep indentations in the gray stone walls made it seem as if a battle of some kind had taken place there. He moved farther within and sized up a round bed topped with a silky coverlet that seemed woven from spun bronze. He sat on the bed and pulled off his flight shoes. Something strange near the door caught his eye. An odd-looking image of himself reflected in large mirrors that spanned ceiling to floor on both sides of the doorway. He waved his hand. The multidimensional reflection moved in slow motion. Another try came with a breath and a mutter, “Not ready to investigate that yet.”

A silvery jumpsuit, like the ones worn by Altemus and Star, hung over the back of a lounge chair to the right of the bed, and beneath it lay a pair of flexible platinum boots. A doorway beyond the chair led to what looked like a bathroom. Bach’s bare feet slid along the cold, marble-like floor as he ventured toward the room. Inside, he found an alcove on the right with a circular pool fashioned from small transparent rocks that looked like bubble packaging. A transparent toilet and sink to the left appeared to be made from acrylic material, but were soft to the touch.

On the counter, a metal tray held a hefty silver goblet filled with a clear liquid. Above the sink was another of the image-enhancing mirrors. Aha! Now I can check out these mirrors. He stood to one side and jiggled his hand in front of the sepia-toned glass. “Amazing.” He stepped in front of it and as soon as he did, his face took on a depth not bound or limited by the wall behind him. A quick turn of his head sideways then back again created a slow-moving, dimensional image where he could see from every angle until the image caught up. He gulped. “Oh, my gosh. I could watch myself comb the back of my hair.” After leaning forward to study his reflection, the thrill faded fast at noting his ashen skin and bloodshot eyes. “That can’t be me.” He touched his face and stared at the image. “It’s a character in a horror movie. ‘Horror movie … horror movie.’” His mirror image’s lips formed the words over and over.

Bach suddenly felt lost and alone, and dread gripped hard. He held his beard-stubbled face in both hands, wanting to scream and yell in frustration, but emotion stayed locked inside. Hunched over the sink, he talked to himself, “Where the hell am I? Friends or foes? Where’s Kaz … and Deni, Lynch, and G.R.? This is a nightmare. I’ll awaken and everything will be normal again. I’ll be home. Kaz and I will get married. But I couldn’t dream anything like this. I am somewhere on a planet called Jenesis, on the continent of Dura.” He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and sighed. “Maybe I’m dead.”

“You’re not dead,” replied a voice. A faint echo followed.

Bach snapped back and looked around. “Who’s talking to me?” He stuck his head beyond the bathroom door and scanned the main room. No one there.

The voice spoke again, “Your new life has just begun.”

He turned back, and saw in the mirror the same gauzy, yellow face he’d seen on the AstroLab. But the glass’s abnormal effects created a more disconcerting image. The anomalous apparition drifted around inside the mirror then stopped—superimposed over Bach’s reflection, appearing as if inside his head. “You’re on the wrong side now,” the copper-eyed face said. “But I’ll let you join me and your crewmates. Come away, my friend. You have yet to experience our pleasures.”

Bach sucked in an angry breath and shouted, “Damn you! I hate you for taking my crewmates. I hate this planet.” He tried to step away, but his energy seemed to drain, and there came a sensation of invisible shackles binding his legs. The silver goblet was within reach. He slammed it against the mirror, sending a spray of liquid through the air. The mirror’s reflective surface didn’t break, but ripples within gave the impression of a liquid core. The distorted apparition faded away. Heart pounding, Bach steadied himself against the sink. Waiting for his strength to return, he noticed a deep indentation in the metal goblet that wasn’t there before.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, he crept back into the main room, eyes scanning as he walked. Are cameras recording my every move? He rested on the edge of the bed and recalled Kaz’s fear of having needles stuck in their navels. Oh, please, God, don’t let them torture her … or any of us.

#

Bach’s eyes opened and he leapt from the bed. Where am I? As sleep cleared from his head, he remembered. Whispering out loud as if talking to someone else he said, “Gotta figure out how to find Kaz … recover the crew … or join them. Maybe they’re in safe hands and I’m not.”

He went back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. No apparition this time, just a weary Bach Turner looking back. Get on with it, he thought to himself while stepping over to the small, deep, bathing pool. A hot bath would feel good. He pushed two icon-identified buttons, then stood back. Streams of peppermint-scented water shot from a dozen jets in the pool’s sides, engulfing the room in a fragrant fog. I’ll submerge myself all the way to the neck. He filled the pool as high as he dared, then pulled off his NASA-issued jumpsuit, stepped into the steaming, scented water, and sat with his back resting in a curved area. Barely able to see through the sauna-like mist, and feeling oddly buoyant, he moved his arms under the water and rubbed his hands over his face. “Strange,” he said aloud. “Not at all like water on Earth. Almost can’t feel it … different surface tension … less resistance when I splash.” Curious, he drew random patterns on the water’s surface with his finger and watched in amusement as the drawings lingered before blending in. Relaxing a little at a time, he slid farther down until just his head was out. The soothing aroma revived his body and mind, and before long he came up with a plan.

With a towel wrapped around his lower half, Bach headed back to the main room and stood before his 3-D image in the big mirror, talking to himself. “Number one goal: learn as much as I can so I can rescue my crew. We can make it back to Earth with this advanced technology.” He walked to the lounge chair and half-heartedly picked up the silver jumpsuit. “But first I’ll have to blend in on Jenesis, be the pleasant earthling, peacefully coexist, and try to do everything right.” The odd fabric felt strange in his hands. He ran his fingers over the gold circle icon. An eternity symbol. Star said it represents a tunnel of light.

Like a kid whistling in a graveyard when he’s scared, Bach hummed “Yesterday” by the Beatles as he pulled on the cool, slithery jumpsuit, cringing as he ran his hand down the sleeve and across his thumping chest. The thin fabric, formed from millions of minuscule circles, felt like snake skin, yet had a strength to it that seemed indestructible. “I don’t like being a snake,” he said, almost hissing. He touched it again. “Won’t get used to this.” After studying the peculiar designs on the soft, platinum-colored boots, he hesitated for a moment then pulled them on. Seeing his feet and lower legs in the odd attire, he complained. “I feel foolish.”

He stepped back to the big mirrors by the door, stared for a moment, then slid his hand into the jumpsuit’s left hip pocket and strutted forward like a male model. Nope. He imitated a muscle-bound wrestler with clenched fists and half-bent arms. Not even close. Then he tried a superhero stance with hands on his hips and a puffed up chest. The reflection in the peculiar mirrors disheartened him. “There’s that stupid movie character again,” he said, pointing. “This time he’s in a Halloween costume in a bad 3-D movie.” He walked away grumbling. “Bachman Turner is not ready for this new life.”

Bach flopped on the bed, closed his eyes, and prayed that when he opened them he would be back on Earth and life would again be normal.

A knock at the door and Star’s voice calling his name brought him to his feet. “Bach! Time for the briefing dinner.”

“Courage,” he mumbled, as he walked to the door and swung it open to a life that wasn’t supposed to be his.

*****

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The transport tube moved from one level of the Skyprism to another with virtually no sensation of motion. When the convex door slid open, Altemus, Star, and Bach stepped into a round, windowless dining room clearly reserved for special events.

Plush blue carpeting scrunched beneath Bach’s boots as he walked through the spacious room toward a large dining table. A man and woman seated across from each other at the table had him locked in their sights. He tried to keep focused, but an array of mouth-watering aromas from freshly prepared foods jousted his stagnant taste buds, making him realize just how long it had been since he’d eaten real food.

Star took a seat beside the man, and Altemus motioned for Bach to sit between himself and the woman, then he introduced them. “Bach, this is Lavender Rose, head of our intel operations, and Wilde, our chief of research and communications. They’re key personnel in our effort to restore order to our zone. Lavender and Wilde, this is Bach Turner, he’ll be working with you while he adjusts to his new home.”

Bach weighed the two aliens’ probing gazes against the uncertainty of still not knowing if he was with friend or foe, and mentally instructed himself to deliver a convincing performance as a friendly intruder amongst those of higher intellect.

Wilde stood and reached across the massive table for a handshake. “Been waiting to meet you.”

Bach’s reach met him halfway. “Good to meet you.”

“By the way, Bach, my name’s Wilde with an e.”

“‘Wilde with an e,’” he repeated as he sat.

Bach turned to acknowledge Lavender Rose, only to find her porcelain-skinned face inches from his. He leaned back into his own space and half-spoke, half-coughed. “Pleasure to meet you, Lavender Rose.” Now another dazzling fragrance captivated him—different from Star’s intoxicating essence, but just as alluring. This one’s easier to peg. Like a garden of roses showered with lemon. She smells like her name—a lavender rose.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Lavender Rose said. Her low, raspy voice seemed an odd contradiction to her delicate appearance and name. She looked Bach up and down with a seductive smile.

A rush of embarrassment claimed Bach’s face. He fidgeted in his chair, beset by her mesmerizing fragrance, but put off by her overt friendliness and rough-edged voice that reminded him of somebody running in corduroy jeans.

Lavender’s pouty red lips parted with a sly smile as she drank in the earthling with a heavy-lidded, non-blinking gaze.

He couldn’t help but stare at her unusual gray eyes—a stunning contrast to her short dark hair, rosy cheeks, and pale skin.

Wilde raised a glass of water. “I hope you’re hungry, Bach. We tried to come up with a selection of foods you might enjoy.”

Bach lifted his glass in return, and suddenly became aware of the curious qualities of those in his presence. Wilde’s Bohemian appearance was a sharp contrast to the technical surroundings. The wiry genius’s spiked blond hair stuck up in odd places, and his emotionless green eyes seemed more befitting a zoned-out surfer than an extraterrestrial savant. Then there was Lavender Rose, a techno authority eligible for a black belt in seduction. But this is another time and place, he reminded himself.

Between casual sips of water, Wilde’s focus switched back and forth between Bach, and Lavender Rose’s interest in the earthling.

Altemus hoisted a huge platter laden with a mouthwatering array of browned meats and held it in front of Bach. “Let’s get started.”

Although famished, Bach selected something that resembled a small pork chop. His subtle inhalation left him wondering what he was about to eat. Who cares? Can’t wait to dig in.

Altemus speared a slab of ribs and flopped it onto Bach’s plate. “Eat hearty, Bach, we have much to discuss.”

Wilde held the platter for Star. She took a small serving and asked, “Who traveled to Baalbek for the roast?”

“No one,” Altemus replied. “It’s from one of the previous trips made by the co-op crews. Held in the storage freepository. The whole meal’s from the freepository.”

Lavender Rose ignored the boring food discussion and shamelessly scanned Bach’s physique. “Sooo,” she growled in her throaty voice, “do you think your body has adapted to our environment?”

“Whew,” slipped from his lips. “Physically, I feel fine. Haven’t made any adjustments so far. The food appears much the same, but the clothes are different.” He touched the emblem on his chest and looked around the table at the others. “I’m sure I have a lot to learn.”

“Well let’s begin with an entry-level primer,” Altemus offered. “Within our galaxy there are zones, similar to solar systems. You are in the zone of Balal, comprised of eleven planets, and you are on planet Jenesis. Our zone does not have a sun. Balal’s slowly revolving planets derive energy from three orbiting daystars that hold everything in place while providing heat and light in varying degrees.”

“Daystars?” Bach asked.

“Daystars are remnants of exploded stars that orbit portions of our zone in unwavering and perpetual paths. Unfortunately for Jenesis, a past disaster left our planet shrouded by a dense dust cloud that prevents our benefiting from the daystars’ direct light and heat. Our darkness is so complete we can’t even see the stars. But, we harness and download heat and energy from the daystars through scientific means. The other planets’ benefits vary depending on their and the daystars’ orbital patterns.” Altemus sipped from his glass. “I’ll let you digest that for a moment.”

Bach talked to himself. “Zones instead of solar systems and daystars instead of a sun?” He looked at Altemus for affirmation.

“Right so far.”

“Let’s see if I have the rest right. We’re in the zone of Balal, on the planet Jenesis, and the continent of Dura?”

“Correct,” Altemus said. “Of three continents on planet Jenesis, two support life—Dura and Ulwor. The uninhabitable continent where your ship crashed by the death lake we simply call the neutral sector.”

“When …” Bach searched for words. “While flying here, to Dura, I saw something that sticks in my mind. In the mountainous region to the left, there was a bright beam of light streaming from space. It ended at the summit of one small mountain, like a spotlight from infinity. What is that?”

Altemus smiled. “What you saw is Mount Hope. Our sacred area.”

“Where does that light come from?”

“I wish I could answer that in technical terms.” He stopped for a moment. “It’s unlike anything we’ve ever encountered: an eye-blinding tunnel of light from space, concentrated solely on that one mount, without deviating a single degree. We’ve examined all possible explanations, but in the end the only answer I can give you is that it’s a connection to a divine power.”

Bach stared at Altemus for a moment, then drank from his goblet. In the midst of technical conversation, he noticed the water felt unusual in his mouth. He took another drink. When he swallowed, it was almost as if it wasn’t there or went down by itself. He remembered the bath water’s atypical characteristics and came up with another question. “Other than the death lake, is there ground water, oceans, or lakes?”

“No,” Star answered. “Our continents are bordered by cairns and gorges which were once oceans and rivers. Only the death lake remains. We manufacture water—a simple formula of hydrogen and oxygen, but we’re running low on hydrogen. So we transport water from another planet, and also recycle it. The eleven planets in our zone individually contain water, vegetables, fruits, grains, minerals, herbs, and animal sources. Dura has three, two-person, planet-hopping crews that travel our zone in a food- and supply-sharing co-operative that provides each planet the essentials to survive. We call it our co-op. But our assets are rapidly diminishing due to enemy intervention.”

“It must be challenging to carry out such missions,” Bach said.

“Yes, and also rewarding,” Altemus replied. “Our hard-working crews are very talented. Over time, they’ve taught the other cultures a common language—the one we’re speaking now. In return, many of us have learned their native tongues.”

“So those on other planets speak a common language?”

“Well, no. Everyone understands and can speak one common language, but they generally converse in their native tongues among themselves.”

“Another question,” Bach said. “If the commodities transported by co-op crews are shared from planet to planet, are they sold or is this all free?”

“Nothing is sold.” Star replied. “Even though the planets’ resources are unique to their environments, none can function independently since the changes to our galaxy.”

“Changes?” Bach asked.

“You’ll quickly understand,” Wilde replied. “Jenesis’s decline began after a barrage of meteorites damaged our energy core. That also caused the dust cloud surrounding us.”

Lavender Rose scooted her chair close to Bach’s. “In the past, our planet’s internal energy core was in perfect balance to support life,” she said, scrutinizing his face with her mysterious gray eyes. “But the meteorite disaster negatively altered that power and also drastically impaired our natural use of heat and light from the daystars. Now, we harness the remains of our planet’s energy to generate light—the faint golden glow you’ve seen.” She placed her hand on his arm. “We control the light cycles here at the complex. How about I give you a tour later?”

Wilde cleared his throat and stared at his loquacious colleague from across the table. “Don’t assume the position of welcoming committee, Lavender Rose. Bach will have plenty of time to see everything.” He hesitated with a little huff. “Where’s he going to go?”

Star turned the conversation to something more enjoyable. “Bach, try this sparkling water from planet Gihon. It springs naturally from the ground. We only serve it on special occasions.” She filled miniature goblets the size of a shot glass with an effervescent liquid, then set one in front of him and each of the others.

“Go easy,” Altemus warned. “The intoxicating effect comes quickly for some.”

Bach eyed the aquamarine-colored drink, amazed at the crackling sounds coming from the small amount of liquid. As he lifted the tiny goblet, thousands of exploding bubbles shot like stars from the bottom of the glass to the top, and audible rips popped in sequence like a string of firecrackers. He set it down and looked at the others. All watched, but none spoke. He drew the goblet to his lips, only to inhale fumes that took his breath away. He gasped, faked a smile, and bravely took a sip. A pause of contemplation followed. “Mmmm, lemony.” A second later, he went owl-eyed. “Oh, wow, my lips are numb … my toes are tingling. Whoa!”

Star said, “Perhaps you’d better wait before drinking more.”

He licked his lips.

Lavender Rose’s attentive smile gave way to a schoolgirl’s giggle. She snatched the goblet from Bach’s hand with gravelly voice crowing, “Oh, no. We forgot to clink glasses to drive out the spirits.”

Laughter made its way around the table, and the hosts raised their small goblets, clinking one against the other.

Bach looked on, bewildered. “Spirits?”

Star said, “On planet Gihon, the residents believe that there are impious spirits living in the sparkling water with powers to make you do foolish things. But the spirits dislike the sound of bells because a call to worship begins with ringing bells—”

Lavender Rose broke in. “So we clink glasses before we drink, making the sound of bells to drive the naughty spirits away.”

Bach touched his glass to hers. “But I drank before I clinked, so what’s gonna happen to me?”

Lavender giggled. “Whoooee, too late now.”

Feeling giddy, Bach thrust his glass upward with a mischievous grin, then downed the remains in one audible gulp. “Too late now!”

Lavender Rose, fully aware of the drink’s effects, raised her goblet to Bach and, in a voice like honey poured over sandpaper said, “To the most incredibly fascinating alien I’ve ever known.” She swigged down the aquamarine liquid, aligned her empty goblet with his, leaned sideways on folded arms, and pressed against him like a cat wanting attention.

Wilde snapped, “This isn’t a social event, Lavender. It’s Bach’s orientation.”

She replied with a silly grin. “At least I have a social life.”

“You call annoying people a social life?”

“Eat a camling,” she fired back.

“Camling?” Still tipsy, Bach stifled a laugh. He didn’t know what a camling was, but the strange word, and Lavender’s counterattack on Wilde struck him as funny, and the more he thought about it the funnier it got. He fought to suppress his amusement.

Playing it for all she could, Lavender leaned over, put her lips against his ear and whispered, “Wilde needs a camling.”

Bach’s cheeks ballooned out and he let go a laugh so hard he could barely catch his breath. In no time, both roared with raucous abandon. Trying to stop only caused a round of snorting cackles that fueled the hilarity. Oblivious to his surroundings, Bach halted for a tear-filled peek at Lavender, but it just made matters worse.

“Eat a camling!” He howled, holding his stomach, then caught his breath for a moment, wiped his eyes and looked at Lavender Rose. “By the way … what’s a camling?”

Air spewed from her cheeks. “Wilde’s idea of a good time.”

“Lavender, that’s enough!” Altemus said sternly. When she ignored him, he slid a bowl of fruit across the table to Star. “Find a firefruit. At the rate they’re going, they’ll be laughing all evening. I’d prefer to give the antidote and continue the briefing.”

Star searched through the bowl and plucked two fuzzy red berries from a cluster. “Bach! Lavender! Catch.” She lobbed the fruits across the table.

Bach snatched his berry midair, with one hand.

Lavender’s landed on her plate. She tried to pick it up, but her numb fingers squeezed too hard and it spitched to the floor. “Ohhh,” she sighed, leaning over farther than necessary to ensure body contact with Bach. Then she pulled herself up hand-over-hand on his body and dangled the fuzzy fruit by its stem in front of his face, taunting, “Doooon’t eeeeat it, Baaaach.”

Grinning, he dangled his berry by the stem and replied, “Ooooh kaaay.”

Star tried to get his attention. “Bach, firefruit’s an antidote for intoxication. Please eat it. You’ll recover immediately. Let’s finish your orientation.”

Bach paid no attention.

Altemus raised his voice, “Lavender Rose! Eat the firefruit!”

She tauntingly wrinkled her nose, then leaned on Bach and fed him her firefruit.

He sucked the marble-sized sphere from its stem and smacked his lips, savoring the hot cinnamon flavor. Grinning, he leaned sideways and fed his firefruit to her. Both sat closed-eyed and smiling while the fruits dissolved in their mouths and the aquamarine liquid’s intoxicating effects wore off.

Star slid a plate of desserts toward Bach. “Try a spiced cream tart. They’re made from mots, flavored beads that grow in pods on planet Maon.”

Bach selected a green-frosted tart. He smelled it. “Mmmm, smells like vanilla coffee. Do you eat like this all the time?”

“It used to be better,” Lavender replied. “But you can get everything you see here, and more, at the refectory during the daylight phase.”

“Daylight phase? I hadn’t thought about time,” Bach said. He looked at his earth watch. “How is time measured on Jenesis?”

“We regulate periods of manufactured light into two equal segments to coincide with our body’s natural wake/sleep rhythm,” Altemus said.

“Sounds like a 24-hour day on Earth.”

“Right. We simulate what used to be the natural light and dark periods. And be forewarned, when we ‘turn out the lights,’ so to speak, blackness outside the Skyprisms is total, except for the barely visible beam on distant Mount Hope.”

“We experienced the total darkness when we first crash landed,” Bach said. “Then, before our eyes, the planet seemed illuminated from within with the beautiful golden glow. So that’s considered daytime?”

“Yes. You’ve had your first experience with a light cycle,” Altemus replied. “Call it day and night if you like. The golden light isn’t as bright as we want, but it’s the best we can do with our remaining energy.”

“The superior intelligence of your race is remarkable.”

“We’d advance dramatically if we had more materials to work with.”

Bach mumbled, “I have a lot to learn.”

Altemus put a dark brown dinner roll on Bach’s plate and reached for a bowl filled with pastel colored, nickel-sized balls. “Here, Bach, try these flavored spreads. Sweetcream’s my personal favorite, the little yellow ones.” The patriarch slathered the spread on a roll and reminisced. “Your space station reminds me of our technology long ago. It’s much like one I designed in my youth. Back then we called ours Kingships.”

“Kingships?” Bach mumbled under his breath.

Star smiled. “Dad was born into our space program, like his father before him. He has more in his head than we have stored in all of our electronic brains in the labs.”

“I’m fascinated by what I’ve seen so far,” Bach said. “I’d like to know more about those lightweight solid-fuel briquettes you mentioned in the rescue ship.”

Wilde responded before Altemus. “It’s newly developed and takes us farther, faster on less quantity. We make the basic briquette from processed refuse, then it’s compressed and chemically engineered for combustion. There’s a final step that’s not recorded anywhere. Altemus applies it, so if the Rooks hack our intel or pirate our records they’ll never have the full formula. They haven’t invented anything comparable, so we’re one step ahead of them.”

“Processed refuse? You mean condensed compost materials?”

“Yes, Bach. Believe it.” Altemus nodded as he spoke. “We have minimal trash. We also aid planet Zarephath—remove their trash and turn it into space fuel. The Specter takes advantage of Zarephath’s less advanced culture, using their planet as his dumpsite.”

Lavender whispered into Bach’s ear. “The Specter is desperate to learn the last step in our fuel formula. With our lightweight solid fuel, his army could expand into other galaxies.” She leaned back and stopped whispering. “He experiments with genetic engineering, cloning, bacterial warfare, anything he can use to further his cause.”

Bach shifted in his chair. “Has it always been this way?”

“No,” Altemus said. “Two generations ago, after the meteorites damaged our planet’s energy core, our research personnel began experiencing paranormal thought patterns that muddled their concentration. Intense investigative efforts pointed to a supernatural phenomenon as the cause. Later, during a meeting of Dura’s scientists, an astral projection hovered above the table—a man’s face sheathed in yellow light. It was our first encounter with the Specter. Through his manifestation, he spoke as a mastermind presenting convincing solutions for restoration of our planet and hope for future development beyond our abilities. We welcomed him and eagerly anticipated his random appearances, but that was his plan. He’s a genius of higher intelligence, but not wisdom. Wrapped in the guise of pleasure, he introduced fear, hate, and misery to our cultures. Many Durans lost control of healthy emotions and positive thinking.”

Altemus stopped talking for a moment, as if reliving those troubling times, then continued. “The Specter recruited on all the planets with methodically applied, emotional manipulation, and enticed many of our family members, friends, and loved ones to join him. His recruits overran an undeveloped civilization on Jenesis’s other inhabitable land mass and colonized the continent they renamed Ulwor, the Ultimate World. They are his mighty, self-proclaimed army, the Rooks—Rulers of other kingdoms. A few Durans recruited by the Specter are still here, covertly serving him, so be careful whom you trust.”

Star added, “Before the Specter appeared, Jenesis and the ten other planets functioned ideally through cooperation, respect, and self-control. We had no need for leadership other than guidance and counsel from our Creator. Now our Creator is all but forsaken.”

Wilde added, “Be forewarned. If the evil one gets inside your head, he’ll seize your conscience and prey on emotional weakness. In times of stress or doubt, when least wanted, his face will manifest in the midst of your activities just to take you off-guard. No one’s ever seen more than his face.”

“I…” Bach cleared his throat. “I think I saw him. Does he have refracting eyes that hypnotically hold you?”

Wilde jumped to answer first. “Yes.”

Altemus let out a huff, “He’s already working on you. Where did you see him?”

“In my earthship. His face was projected from somewhere … an apparition.”

“I’m surprised he revealed himself so soon,” said Wilde. “Did he speak to you?”

“He said, ‘Follow me.’ Then I saw him again here in the mirror in my room and he said a lot more.”

“He’ll be back,” Altemus said. “Remember, when he appears your power to resist is reduced. He creates strong delusions, but the pleasure he promises is backed with control. He’ll manipulate your heart and mind.”

Bach shook his head with a far-off stare. “What’s happening to my crewmates? I know they’ll resist him.”

“They might at first,” Lavender said, poking at her food. “But they’ll weaken over time. Most of the planets’ inhabitants in our zone have fallen under his mind control and no longer want Dura’s help. They await the Rooks because of their false pleasures.”

“How do I avoid him?” Bach asked.

“You don’t,” Wilde replied. “Over time he’ll assess your vulnerability, then he’ll either back off or relentlessly wear you down.”

*****

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bach spent the morning in the training/recreation Skyprism undergoing physical and emotional testing. Later, an instructor escorted him down an austere hallway to a soundproofed, cylindrical room twelve feet in diameter. With no idea of why he’d been taken to the small room, which was empty except for two chairs, he reluctantly stepped inside and chose a chair overlooking the open doorway.

Altemus arrived in a blue hovercart, closed the door, and sat across from Bach. Saying nothing, he turned on a hand-held data processor. The device clicked in varying sequences, then beeped. The old man’s non-wavering, steely blue eyes held no expression as he focused on the small data screen.

Feeling uneasy, Bach bounced the heel of his foot up and down on the floor without realizing it.

When the elder looked up, the two couldn’t help but look each other in the eyes in the close quarters.

Bach repeated inside his head, this will be good, this will be positive.

“I’m pleased with the results of your tests,” Altemus said. “You’re a competent man of honorable character.”

Bach stifled a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

The elder looked again at the data screen. “Bach, I trusted you even before these tests proved me right. Now I’d like your help in our efforts to restore order to this zone. I welcome your fresh insight and enthusiasm.”

“I appreciate your trust.”

“However,” Altemus continued, “data shows you’re harboring a strong desire to rescue your fiancée and crewmates.”

Bach stiffened.

“Eliminate that goal immediately or the Specter will use your countrymen as bait. Then he’ll destroy your honorable spirit once he has you. You must understand that.”

“I understand.”

“That aside, I’m giving you free reign of our intelligence and research. You’ll gain an understanding of Dura’s strengths and obstacles regarding our future and the Specter’s increasing threats. Your background and intellect are well suited to our scientific endeavors. I’ve notified Lavender Rose to give you unrestricted access to data and operations.” Altemus stood, as if to indicate the briefing had ended.

Bach jumped up with a burst of nervous energy and shook his mentor’s hand. “I won’t let you down.”

The old man nodded and opened the door. “Stop by my office later today. You’re sure to have questions.” He initialized his hovercart.

“Thanks for your confidence,” Bach said, “I’m ready to learn.” He walked away relieved, yet continued planning to rescue his crewmates.

#

Bach headed straight for the operations Skyprism—Dura’s heartbeat, and headquarters for communications, intelligence, research, and the spaceport. He’d been given a tour of the facilities after the briefing dinner, and was assigned a workstation in the intel center at that time. But now, having free reign, he couldn’t wait to explore on his own. He hopped aboard one of six rail-riding air-jets used to shuttle people and supplies through passageways connecting the three Skyprisms.

When he stepped off the air-jet, a half-dozen human-shaped robots moved forward to unload the monorail-like cars. The programmable people operated machinery and delivered supplies in response to infrared communicators set in eye-like openings on their faceless heads. Working twice as fast as their human counterparts, the robots floated three inches off the floor on air-powered feet that maneuvered over and around obstacles.

Bach next took a mechanized walkway to the spaceport terminal where teams of employees and robots assembled sections of a new, state-of-the-art starship that looked somewhat like Earth’s earliest Mercury space capsule, only ten times larger. Awesome. That’s the huge structure I caught a glimpse of when the dragonfly landed. He watched for a while, then mumbled to himself, “That’s gonna be one powerful machine. I want to be aboard when it first traverses the zone.” Moving on, he passed a glassed-in research lab where a dozen jumpsuited workers monitored scientific devices he couldn’t identify.

Eager to delve into the incredible technology, Bach was as hyped as a kid who’d received everything on his Christmas list at once. A vacuum lift nearby would deliver him to the upper-level intelligence center faster than the peoplemovers, so he stepped into the sleek tube and rode it to the third-floor work area. The spacious room looked like a techno-wizard’s no-holds-barred science experiment with more lasers, electronics, and gadgetry than he could have ever imagined. The engineer in him gloated, the candyland of a future millennium.

On the way to his assigned workstation he stopped at a snack area and selected a spicy brown energy drink in a mug, then headed to the far end of the room and sat in his work bay. Surrounded by a maze of astral electronics, he looked for something, anything, familiar, and muttered, “Whoa. One big hands-on experiment.” A flexible black cap hanging by no visible means on the wall alongside the computer caught his attention. He poked at it with his finger then pulled it from the wall. It crackled with the sound of static electricity and seemed to vibrate in his hand, but there were no wires or attached devices. “What in the world?” Looks like one of those rubber skullcaps worn by clowns. He examined it with a smirk. Try it on, Bozo. After raising it to his head, he hesitated. Maybe I should ask someone first. He set it on the desk. But, Altemus gave me free reign. He picked it up again, leaned back in his chair, looked to the right, then to the left, then scooted closer to the workstation, took a deep breath and pulled the cap onto his head. A hand-sized, desktop video screen lit up, and a small ball of green light revolved around a larger, orange ball in the center of the screen. Oh, no, what have I done?

A monotone female voice spoke into his ears through the cap. “You have activated the thought cap.”

Thought cap? he said in his head.

“Yes.”

Hard swallow. My thoughts are read from inside my head?

“Yes,” the voice replied.

Oh, God.

“I am not God,” the voice stated.

Bach lifted the cap from his head as if it might detonate, then examined it with a wild rush of curiosity. Feeling like a kid who’d found a secret answer box, he mentally raced down a list of questions he had regarding his new environment. Unsure of his standing with the Duran geniuses, he’d kept many thoughts to himself. Now he could explore secret territory without them knowing what was on his mind. He put the cap on and focused on his first thought.

I notice the women of Jenesis wear the most delightful fragrances, each different from the other. Is this a requirement of some sort?

“No.”

It’s strictly a pleasurable act?

“No.”

Then what purpose?

“Scent is a genetic blueprint,” the voice answered.

Bach gasped. You can identify someone by scent?

“Yes.”

But I haven’t smelled fragrance on the men.

“That is correct.”

Why?

“Male scent genetic identifier ceased after chemical targeting.”

Chemical targeting? What’s chemical targeting?

“Yes. An attempt to eradicate our society.”

By whom?

“The enemy,” the voice replied.

Why?

“To eliminate future superior generations outside the realm of his authority.”

Bach exhaled sharply, wondering, how can I word this?

“Use normal words,” the voice replied.

How did it happen? When did it happen?

After a brief silence the voice said, “Processing two requests.” Then it answered, “Biological warfare. One generation ago.”

So, the enemy used chemicals to disrupt the gene pool?

“Yes.”

Bach prepared his next mental question. If male DNA is disrupted, how do men pass through the DNA security scanners?

“Fragmented DNA remains unique in each individual.”

Fragmented DNA? A more troubling thought came to Bach’s mind. Is that why I’ve seen no children?

The voice answered, “Yes, and yes.”

Now Bach’s mind drifted beyond input for the thought cap. So there will be no more Duran children….

The female voice replied, “Processing statement, processing question.” It then said, “Dura’s males have lost reproductive capabilities.”

Trying to absorb the information, Bach’s mind raced through an array of possibilities. Oh, my gosh. What if Durans see me as a sperm donor? What if I become a target of male jealousy? Oh, God! What if the Specter tries to neutralize me?

The thought cap beeped and the voice stated, “Input stacking, input stacking.”

Erase! How do I erase? he thought in a panic.

“Erase?” asked the voice.

Bach singled out his thoughts. Yes, erase, delete.

The green ball of light on the screen stopped circling the orange ball. “Whew.” Bach lifted the cap from his head, but after a few moments decided to take full advantage of this resource while he could. Maybe all the scientific concepts he’d thought up over the years could now become reality. So he recalled his innovative theories one by one, then put the cap back on and mentally presented them. The monotone voice informed him time after time that his ideas were old technology. He grimaced, thinking to himself, I’m light years out of my league.

The voice replied, “Light years does not apply to mental process.”

With the cap still on his head, Bach thought, Now I feel foolish.

“You are no different than before,” said the voice.

He returned the cap to the wall and grumbled, “Enough of this.”

Mentally processing all he’d just learned, he fiddled around with a light-emitting pen that projected 3-D images on vibrating airwaves. He wrote his name, and drew a spaceship in midair. When he accidentally flashed the light across a framed panel left of the viewscreen, the semi-transparent contents flinched in reaction. Stunned for a moment, Bach hurriedly investigated. The panel, made of stimuli-responsive living tissue, reacted to touch, light, heat, cold, odors, sounds, liquids and simple voice commands. Awesome technology.

“Good Afternoon.” Wilde interrupted Bach’s concentration. “I see you’ve already figured out a portion of our technology.”

“Amazing stuff!”

“Do you have any questions?”

“Almost afraid to ask.”

“Well, I’m your man when you’re ready, and be sure to keep me informed of anything new you come up with. Need to keep security tight. And just between you and me, keep business with Lavender Rose to a minimum. She’s become emotional since her spouse defected to Ulwor. Still good at her job, but don’t burden her with anything outside of her regular duties.”

“Don’t worry, I’m only browsing. But thanks for the insight.” Bach leaned back in his chair. “Hey, would you like to go to lunch? I’m ready for a break.”

Wilde walked off. “Sorry, can’t get away. Schedule’s full.”

Bach watched Wilde depart and tried to come up with a label befitting the peculiar host. Offbeat, aloof, weird? Maybe he’s intimidated by my sperm donor potential. Nah. Some tech-heads just aren’t wired for human interaction. But he is sort of likeable. When Bach tried to refocus, forbidden thoughts flooded his mind. I can’t waste any more time. Need to find out how to get to Ulwor to rescue my crewmates, how much fuel I’ll need to get there and back, and what weapons I can get my hands on without raising suspicion. He scooted his chair closer to the work area, pulled the cap from the wall, cleared his mind to a single thought, then put the cap on his head. Do they have fuel emission or nuclear power detection on Ulwor?

No voice response.

The green ball of light circled the orange ball on the screen.

A clicking sound filled his ears.

He shook his head, readjusted the cap, and followed the green light with his eyes.

A male voice overrode both the female voice and the clicking sound. “Unauthorized data request! Alert! Alert! Security breach!”

Bach gasped and pressed the sides of his head where the man’s voice came from. He whispered in a panic, “No, no, don’t send an alert. I didn’t know it was wrong, I just thought of it for a moment.”

“Alert!”

“Please erase! Cancel!”

“Alert!”

His voice increased in volume and he shook the small video screen as if that would stop it. “Please cancel. I was only trying to learn.” The clicking sound continued. “Oh, shoot, I have to think it!” he said in near panic. He calmed himself. Cancel. Please cancel.

“Denied.”

Why?

“Security breach. Prohibited inquiry.”

Heart pounding, Bach’s eyes flashed from side to side. What’s going to happen to me?

“Reprimand.”

Reprimand? Who from?

“Altemus.”

Altemus. Bach sighed with relief and didn’t wait for another response. He jerked the cap from his head, talking to himself, “I’ll explain to Altemus. He’ll understand why I was curious. It’s a normal reaction to wonder about things. I’m not an underground Duran dealing confidential info to the Ultimate World. He’ll understand.”

Bach felt like everybody in the room was looking at him. He glanced around, but the Durans were going about their business as usual. As his heart slowly returned to a normal rhythm he looked for something to divert his attention. A soft purple glove lay nearby. He read the directions printed on the back and pulled the Electro Glove onto his hand, then sketched a few basic designs with his fingertip on an illuminated drawing pad. An unexpected array of data and images flashed on the view panel. The device quickly captured his full attention. He sketched an illogical spacecraft prototype just to see what would happen. A maze of lines zigged and zagged across the panel, and soon a dimensional schematic developed. “Yes!” he babbled in excitement. Then an annoying bleep accompanied by a series of garbled images overlaid his data, and a bright red band, “Input Halted” flashed on the panel. His work disappeared. Wondering what he did wrong, he read the directions on the glove again.

Now the panel flickered back to life with a printed message. “Hello, my earthling friend. Anything I can help you with? Love, from Station 3.”

Bach rolled his chair back and looked over his shoulder toward Station 3. Lavender Rose! She smiled, then scrawled on her touchpad. The input displayed on Bach’s panel. “I’ve locked you out. You can’t have full access. How about lunch—sparkling water?”

Wish she’d leave me alone, he grumbled inside his head. But she won’t take no for an answer. Giving in to good manners, he grudgingly nodded while squirming inside for a way out, then snatched off the Electro Glove and grabbed the energy drink in frustration. As he drew the mug to his lips, a stream of bubbles appeared on the surface. He poked at them with his finger. They didn’t break, but sank and resurfaced. He pushed them under again, but this time the murky fluid reacted with a change of color to a translucent yellow. The Specter’s face materialized, and taunting words rolled from his silvery tongue. “Join us, Bach. Your skills and devotion will serve us well.” He waited for a moment. “Your crewmates, and the one you love, miss you.”

Bach’s stomach wrenched at mention of his loved one and his crewmates. He slammed the mug on the touchpad in anger. The sticky drink splashed over the workstation and dripped from the pad to the floor. The Specter’s words faded, “Time’s running out.”

Bach leapt from his chair, grabbed his tools and paperwork, and shook them off. At the same time, a note from Lavender Rose appeared on his data panel. “There’s a mop in the closet. Do you want me to get it for you?”

He glared at her and mouthed the word, “No,” as he plopped into the chair and blotted the spill with paper scraps.

Then someone rolled his chair forward as far as it could go under the desktop with him in it. Lavender Rose pressed her body against his back, then reached over his shoulder, stroked the touchpad, and whispered from her pouty red lips, “Now you’re shut down. Let’s go.”

“I have to clean up this mess.”

“Housekeeping robots will take care of it.” Her cheek brushed his. “I’m keeping you on limited system access until you have lunch with me.”

“Altemus said I’d have full access.” In the midst of stress and irritation, Bach felt his temperament soften from Lavender’s bewitching fragrance. Why does such an aggravating person have to smell so good? He tried to stand, but his chair was too far under the desk and Lavender was still behind it, so he turned his head to one side. “Not hungry right now.”

She moved her face to within inches of his and looked into his eyes.

He stammered, “And, I, uh, have too much on my mind.”

“Like what?” she asked playfully.

“I just saw the Specter for the third time.” He hesitated. “Does he know everything?”

“No, Bach, he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. But he does have a direct link to emotional distress. He’s come in through your mind to torment you at a time of weakness. You have a period of growth necessary before you’ll understand how to deal with it. Do I make you weak?”

He tensed.

She pulled his chair back, swiveled it to one side, gripped the armrests and said, “I’ll be glad to teach you everything I know.”

Bach pushed his feet hard against the floor and inched the chair backward. Lavender Rose held fast. He motioned with his head toward a digital readout on the wall. “Sorry. I’ve a meeting with Altemus … right about now.” He put his hands on her waist, moved her aside, then race-walked to a vacuum lift. As the door slid closed, the last thing he saw was Lavender Rose sitting in his chair at his work bay. She grinned provocatively and waved.

*****

The lift door opened with a pneumatic hiss at the communications wing’s sprawling upper level. Bach’s getaway stride ended at his mentor’s office. Uncomfortable about arriving unannounced his first time at the office, he hesitated at the half-closed door and noticed at eye level, an unusual nameplate of polished black stone encircled by gilded leaves. Fancy gold script spelled out the name, Altemus Rider. Hmmm. Rider, that’s the only last name I’ve seen or heard. He registered the find in his brain and rapped on the doorframe. “Altemus?”

“Come in, come in,” the old man bellowed in a stress-filled voice.

Not knowing if he should swing the door full open, Bach squeezed through without opening it farther. Altemus sat behind a cluttered desk twenty feet away with a beeping electronic device in his hand. He didn’t look up. “Bach, good to see you. Come in. Sorry I wasn’t able to work with you this morning. Can I help you with something?”

“Uh, well, not really. I just stopped by to say….” His words trailed off at seeing a wall-sized window to his left overlooking the assembly floor where Jenesis’s new starship was under construction. “You supervise construction from here?” he asked in surprise.

Altemus still didn’t look up. “I can’t get around as well as I used to—this is a workable solution. Only go down there for hands-on inspection at critical points. New starship’s specs have no margin for error.”

On the window ledge, two furry animals lay stretched out in pleasurable sleep. Bach approached slowly, noting their tufted ears and bunny tails. “What are these? I didn’t know there were animals in Dura. They almost look like cats.” He stroked the orange striped one and a soothing vibration rocked its little body, but it didn’t stir.

“They’re wurrs. Star brings them with her every day. Orange one’s Arro, gray and white one’s Lotus. She leaves them in my office because I spoil them.” He nodded to himself. “They’re the only animals left in Dura.” Altemus finally looked at Bach. “Let’s set aside time to bring you up to date on Jenesis’s essentials.”

“Sounds good. I scanned the intelligence system this morning, and even with limited access, I’m amazed at the technology here.”

“Limited access? You have full security clearance.”

“Lavender Rose just told me I don’t.”

Altemus slammed his wrinkled hands on the desk and pushed himself up with a pained grimace. Seating his trifocals on his nose, he grumbled, “I gave her explicit instructions to initiate full capabilities for you, and to schedule a briefing on our current projects. Did she get with you at all?”

Bach cleared his throat. “Only to invite me to lunch. She’s very flirtatious. It makes me uncomfortable.” Feeling relief at purging his problem, he added, “And she interrupted my research this morning for no good reason.”

“Unacceptable! We have too much to do. Personal feelings and emotions must be kept in check. I’ll have my assistant arrange your training with Wilde.” He pushed a button on the intercom and bellowed, “Monroe, please come to my office. Now!”

While awaiting the assistant’s arrival, Altemus stepped to Bach’s side at the picture window. As they watched activity on the production floor the old man welled with fatherly pride and explained how the starship’s new technology would aid in restoring the eleven planets through land parcel and resource relocation.

Altemus used his hands for emphasis as he spoke. Bach noticed a rough-finished gold ring on the elder’s left hand, middle finger. He wanted a better look at it, but stayed focused on the technical conversation. “I love what I’ve seen so far,” he said, “and think I’ll work well with your technology. The concepts are incredible. They’re far beyond all the plans and dreams I’ve had in my head that Earth’s technology couldn’t accommodate.” Then he blurted out, “I just noticed your unusual ring. What does it represent?”

Altemus pulled hard to remove the ring then handed it to Bach. “It depicts a tree of life. My beloved spouse, Casso, rest her soul, designed it.”

Bach examined the ring—a tree trunk that wrapped around the finger, with a small branch on each side.

The elder pointed to the ring. “Casso was inspired by how trees reached out and grew in the light. Our love grew in the same way.” He struggled for breath. “She’s been gone too long. Can’t wear it much anymore—hands are swelling—but it comforts me.”

Monroe rapped on the office door then stepped inside. When Bach looked up, his mental focus took leave. The bodacious, breathtaking blond looked like a clone of her namesake, Marilyn Monroe. How can it be? An astral Marilyn Monroe? Mouth agape, he recalled the famous poster of Marilyn with her white dress billowing up and the movie with her dancing around flashing diamond jewelry.

Altemus took his ring back without Bach knowing it, and made the introduction. “Monroe, this is Bach Turner. Bach, Monroe, my assistant.”

Monroe grasped Bach’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice soft.

Bach stared, but at this point gathering his thoughts was like trying to unscramble eggs. “Uh, yeah, me too.”

Altemus unclasped the couple’s hands. “Monroe, please show him to Wilde’s area.”

“My pleasure,” she purred. “Wilde’s in the restricted area right now. I’ll have security issue a guest pass.”

“No guest pass,” Altemus said, pointing his finger. “Bach’s on full clearance—allowed access to everything.” His hand moved to his forehead and he blew out a puff of air. “Oh, wait, Monroe, you might have a problem with his clearance. I’ll take care of it. Thanks for coming by.”

The beauty turned to leave just as Star stepped in. “Hi, Dad. Oh, hi, Monroe. Hi, Bach, sorry to interrupt. There’s a miscalculation in the starship’s design, Dad. Need your help.”

Relieved that his daughter had stopped by, Altemus replied, “Okay, bring me the spec analysis, but don’t plan to drop it and run, you need to understand what I’m doing.” After a moment’s hesitation he added, “Before we start, please clear up a problem with Bach’s security clearance then take him to Wilde’s area.”

Bach shook the old man’s hand. “Thanks. Maybe we can have lunch later?”

“Come back in two hours.” The elder cleaned his wire-rimmed trifocals on his sleeve.

#

Star and Bach walked through the noisy facility, but for a while neither spoke. From time to time, Bach glanced sideways at the beautiful Duran, all the while enjoying subtle wafts of her intoxicating fragrance. Still, he kept thinking how his life had changed. I’m a stranger to myself. I used to be full of fun … singing silly songs. Now nothing’s familiar and the only thing that keeps me going is a goal no one wants me to reach.

“I saw the Specter’s face again,” he blurted out. “He told me my crewmates miss me, that they’re in danger. Would he torture them?”

She hesitated. “He’s not into physical pain, he manipulates through pleasure. In time, gratification turns to dependence on him for feelings of self-worth and well-being. Loss of identity soon follows. I hope your crewmates have inner strength to withstand his deception.”

“Kaz, my fiancée, is not strong emotionally. But she’s strong-willed. Brainwashing her would be next to impossible. If they’re all together, I know they’re planning an escape. I have to try to rescue them.”

The look in Star’s sapphire blue eyes could have spoken for her, but she warned, “That won’t be possible. Don’t let the Specter manipulate your emotions and deceive you.”

*****

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bach met Altemus in his office and the two headed to the refectory for lunch. During a brief ride through an underground tunnel connecting one Skyprism to another, Altemus chose the private moment to reprimand Bach for using the thought cap to inquire about Ulwor. Once again, he ordered him to abandon the idea of rescuing his crewmates.

Altemus swung the refectory door open and motioned for Bach to enter the massive dining room. He couldn’t take it all in at first, but a meld of delectable aromas quickly led him to the food service bar. Standing in line, faced with dozens of entrees emitting a harmony of scents, he nodded to Altemus. “It all looks good.”

“Don’t be bashful. Take a little of each.”

Bach asked the voice-activated robot staff for small servings of four different entrees. Desserts at the end of the line offered more choices. He took three samples. Altemus chuckled with a headshake.

As they moved toward the dining area, Bach looked for a place to sit. Lavender Rose, seated at a corner table with two pilots from the co-op missions, feverishly flagged him down.

He damned himself for making eye contact and turned to Altemus, hoping for a way out. “Where should we sit?”

“Go ahead, join them. That’s Griffon and Nova, two of our co-op space travelers. You’ll see a lot of them in the comm center when they’re prepping for their missions. I’d prefer to eat back at my office anyway.”

Bach parted company with Altemus and shuffled to the table with a phony smile pasted on his face.

Lavender Rose ignored her cohorts. “So, Bach, we manage to have lunch together after all.”

He unloaded his tray and sat down, glancing back and forth at the unfamiliar man and woman.

Griffon spoke up. “Hello, Bach, I’m Griffon and this is Nova, and you know Lavender Rose.”

“Yes, I know Lavender,” he said dryly.

Griffon’s hazel eyes twinkled mischievously from beneath a shock of brown hair. “How is it being the new man on the planet? A handsome guy like you must be feeling like free game.” He paused with a grin. “The whole complex is buzzing with news of your arrival. Especially the ladies.”

Nova elbowed him. The pretty redhead’s voice was innocent, yet sexy. “Stop it, Griffon. It doesn’t matter if he’s male or female. We treat everyone equally.”

Griffon chuckled and reared back in his chair, eyes dancing back and forth between Nova and Lavender Rose. “But you ladies sure like that he’s male.” He noticed Bach shift in his seat. “I’m sorry Bach. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Griffon quickly added.“But it’s entertaining to watch all the giggling females going out of their way to get a closer look—”

Lavender Rose didn’t allow him to finish. “Everyone will get a closer look tomorrow. Altemus scheduled a welcoming get-together after the services.”

“I wish he’d cancel those services.” Griffon’s deep breath said it all. “Who goes anyway? Star, Altemus, and a few others.”

“Same old bunch,” Lavender added. “And did you notice that Altemus has bypassed the elder council and started calling all the shots. You know what he did to me this morning? He reassigned me! He moved me from intel to spec oversight for the new starship’s construction. He gave my job to someone else. I’m not happy about this.”

Nova stopped eating. “Calm down, Lavender. He’s a dying old man trying to save our planet.”

“He’s not so sick that he can’t boss me around.”

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Bach.

Nova washed her food down with a drink of water. “Part of it’s old age, and part is from exposure to bacterial warfare. He intercepted a deadly virus from Ulwor that double-agent Rooks planned to release in our operations Skyprism. He got it to the lake in time, but he got infected. It’s a process of deterioration.”

“He still has the most brilliant mind in the zone,” Griffon said.

As lunch went on, Bach enjoyed getting to know Griffon and Nova, and by the time he’d filled up on astral foods his stomach was ready to burst.

Griffon poured pink tea from a pot and passed a cup of it to Bach. “This is a digestive aid.”

Bach enjoyed the soothing tea, and poured a second cup as he continued to question his hosts. “Of everything I’ve learned since arriving,” he said, “your solid fuel made from garbage holds the most fascination.”

“Altemus invented it,” Griffon said. “It’s non-toxic, odorless, non-polluting, and light weight. The lab produces the basic briquette, then he does something to it right before use. No one knows what he does, and no one has ever seen him do it, but it won’t work without that final step.”

Nova added, “We suspect he’s training Star to take over. He’s getting too sick to continue on his own. With the enemy trying to overtake us, there’s a lot of pressure on his being a one-man security system.”

“He’s a miser,” Lavender added in her throaty voice. “Like a madman with keys to the secrets of the universe he controls everything so tightly you’d never get your hands on a single speck of that fuel. He calibrates and calculates to the nth degree the exact amount required for every co-op flight, every rescue mission, everything….”

“Then he personally fuels the ships, and it’s vacuum drawn into the chamber,” Griffon added.

“Yeah. No one can touch the stuff once he’s done his thing,” said Lavender Rose. “But, the enemy walks among us, so we can never be too careful.”

After the last cup of pink tea was consumed, the four headed back to the operations prism on the peoplemover connecting the compounds. During the ride, Bach turned to Nova. “By the way, earlier you mentioned services of some kind tomorrow. What were you talking about?”

“Every seven days a small group gathers on Mount Hope to worship our Creator.” She pulled a golden crystal circle necklace, like the one Star had, from beneath her jumpsuit. “This represents eternity transmitted through the light.”

Lavender pushed to Bach’s side and half-whispered, “You’re not obligated to attend the services. Hardly anyone goes. They’re something Altemus dreamed up to unite Dura. He thinks the Specter’s influence is what’s caused all the deterioration of our zone, but I say it’s a natural progression. Things don’t stay the same forever.”

Griffon nodded. “I agree. We have a lot of great new things going on that we never had before. There are bad things too, but the good balance the bad.”

Nova forced her way between them and draped her arm over Bach’s shoulder. “I go to the services. Why don’t you come tomorrow with Star and me?”

Lavender glared at Nova and increased the volume of her rasp-like voice. “Let Bach decide for himself. If he gets caught up in your small group he’ll never learn how much fun Dura can be.”

Bach handled it all with a big smile. “Well, I’ll try most anything once.” He nodded at Nova. “I’ll go to the services with you.”

*****

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The morning air held a chill accompanied by blackness so dense it seemed solid. It would be an hour before artificial light switched on, but a few had already begun their day.

A group of twenty, including Altemus, Star, Bach, and Nova, had gathered on sacred Mount Hope beside the ever-present tunnel of golden light descending from infinity.

Bach’s thoughts reverted to the dragonfly rescue ride when he first saw Mount Hope from the window. The astonishing image of a brilliant light beam from space, focused on the top of one mountain amid craggy peaks and rocky gorges, seemed forever etched in his memory. Now he was at the crest, standing next to the powerful beam. Experiencing it close up was unlike anything he could have imagined.

Star moved to Bach’s side and spoke softly, “As you see, the faithful are few.”

The services began. Altemus offered a brief prayer that all repeated, followed by a period of silence during which they took turns communing in the light. As Bach mulled over the ceremony from the sidelines, a sudden inner hunger made him want to take part in it. I’ve only attended church a few times, but this is something more than church. There’s a consuming energy, a force of some kind that beckons my soul.

He joined in as the worshipers gathered together and Altemus prayed for wisdom, guidance, unity, and peace for the galaxy and beyond. During a moment of reflection, Bach lost focus, drawn once again to the inexplicable oracle. He needed to understand in engineering logic what was happening. How can I fathom a light that gives off a sensation unlike anything I’ve ever experienced? It seems tangible, touchable, with an energy so potent I could grasp it in my hand.

Bach’s mind was still on the powerful tunnel of light during a song of praise and closing devotionals. He didn’t realize that Star had moved beside him and put her arm around his shoulders until she whispered in his ear, “Thanks for joining us.”

He jerked in reflex.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Seeming not to hear, he moved robotically toward the light, as if pulled. She followed a few steps behind. He hesitated and looked skyward, then stepped into the circular beam and stood like a statue. A feeling of weakness came first, followed by a surge of hope that coursed through every pore. The pain and anxiety of his old life faded and his mind spoke. I’ll never be the same. He stood for a while, absorbing every possible speck of energy. Then he stepped from the beam, grabbed Star’s hands, and stared into her eyes. “Star …,” he whispered, “I felt like a forcefield surrounded me, enveloped me with a power that could lift me to the stars.”

“It’s an invitation. Let the Creator guide your life.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Yield to a power greater than yourself.”

“I believe I already have,” he answered.

She pulled him aside and slipped a white cloth pouch into his hand in a way that the others couldn’t see.

He casually turned his back and removed an eternity pendant on a chain, like hers, from the pouch and subtly clasped it around his neck.

She whispered, “Tuck it into your jumpsuit. There may be Rooks here gathering information.”

Nova broke from the group with a lanky dark-haired man and approached Bach. “Well, guest of honor,” she said, “are you ready for the get-together? Everyone will be there. Oh, Bach, this is Reno, another of our co-op space pilots. His crewmate, Elan, isn’t here today, but she usually comes.”

Reno pumped Bach’s hand with a rapid-fire handshake. “Heard a lot about you. Nice to see the face that goes with the name.” He punched Bach’s shoulder in a male bonding gesture. “Want to ride on an interplanetary hop sometime?”

Bach grinned and nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Right now, I’m hungry,” Reno said, “let’s get goin’.”

Altemus led in his hovercart, and the worshipers descended the mountain path just as the planet’s artificial light switched on. Bach shuffled a few steps forward with the group, then hesitated, causing those behind him to stop. He motioned them on with a sheepish grin. “You all go ahead. I’d like to stay here for a minute or two.”

Star moved to his side and spoke softly, “What are you doing?”

“Need to stay a little longer.”

She searched his face. “You can’t walk back to the Skyprisms. It’ll take too long. And everyone will be waiting.”

“I can’t go now,” he whispered, his voice urgent.

She looked around, then nodded. “I’ll ride in with the others, then bring the ground tram back for you.”

“Thanks.”

Bach waited until the group reached the bottom of the hill, then stepped into the compelling beam. Head bowed, he meditated as if gathering strength, then looked up and spoke words he never thought he’d say. “I heard you call my name.”

Seconds passed in pure silence. Then the air stirred with an effect so transparent he thought it was his imagination. Soon, a rushing wind swept across the mount with a gentle power and every hair on his head stood on end from the positive energy. An all-consuming presence disrupted the flow of time and held him in the moment. The Creator spoke from the golden tunnel.

“Bach. I have chosen you for my special mission among the planets of Balal. Restore the space station and the attached spacecrafts.”

Bach fell to his knees, face expressionless, yet words poured from his lips. “I will do it.”

The instructions continued, as if imprinting on Bach’s memory, and a challenging deadline came in the Creator’s parting command.

“Tell no one, and trust no one, except Altemus. Complete the restoration by the new year. At that time your mission will be made clear.”

*****

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

With memories of yesterday’s epiphany haunting him, Bach paid an early morning visit to Altemus’s office and shared the experience. Minutes later he was at the controls of a ground transporter heading to the earthship’s crash site with his mentor. As they skimmed over valleys and craters on the barren planet, Bach had a sudden lapse of reason. I wonder if I could make it to Ulwor in a ground transporter? He almost smiled. Have to find out if Ulwor has fuel and nuclear power detection. This little ship could be the way to rescue my crewmates. Oh, God, I hope they’re okay.

They landed to the sight of hundreds of footprints in the sand and two mechanized scaffolds at open entryways of the Wizard and space station.

Bach checked Faith’s gravesite and, to his relief, found it undisturbed. He entered the AstroLab with Altemus via the open ramp and found that the Rooks had removed all electronics and communications devices and gleaned undamaged materials from the debris.

“Vile enemy!” Altemus grumbled.

Bach surveyed the devastation and wiped his face with both hands as if clearing off a violation. He didn’t look at Altemus. “I’ll check the other two ships. We have a big project ahead.” Using the scaffolds left by the Rooks, he entered the space station and Wizard.

Altemus headed to the flight deck. He’d planned to sit and review notes and the old logbooks Bach had retrieved from the lake, then merge new technology with old, but the flight seats were gone. He sat on the floor and opened the log, and a few minutes later jerked off his glasses and cleaned them on his jumpsuit. “Wretched eyes.”

Bach returned and informed Altemus that both the Wizard and space station were also stripped of functional items. But the mechanized lifts the Rooks had left outside would come in handy.

The elder seated his glasses against his nose and flipped through the logbook. “I’m glad you retrieved these manuals, Bach, but putting these earthships back into service will take a mighty effort. What mission could we be carrying out for the Creator?”

“He said the mission would be clear when the restoration is completed.”

“Maybe we’re to teach the residents of our other planets to operate the restored spacecraft. They need their independence and they’d most likely feel comfortable with this technology, which is like our old Kingships.” The old man’s voice wavered. “But this is a massive undertaking.”

Bach looked at his partner without blinking. “We have to finish by the new year.”

“The new year? Just the two of us and a few robots? Is that possible in a hundred and eighty days?”

“We will do it!” Bach waved his arm around the ship’s interior. “We’ll program the robots to work here alone for the heavy labor projects. And we’ll get the co-op crews to bring in additional goods—live plants, extra supplies. But we’ll have to come up with a plausible reason for it.”

Altemus put on a headset and spewed verbal notes for renovation. His spoken information was converted and downloaded as schematics and illustrations to a viewer on his wrist. He frowned and mumbled, “Need a ruse for co-op crews to bring in more supplies; space station’s internal passageway to serve as corridor between the three ships; add more windows….” Head down, immersed in details, he looked up for a minute. “I’ll build a relay system using the engines on all three ships, then reconfigure them for solid fuel. It’s my area of expertise.”

Bach nodded. “You got it.”

Referring to notes Bach had written after receiving the Creator’s instructions, Altemus sighed. “Some of these modifications are extreme.” His face scrunched up. “Are you sure the Creator said that one ship is to carry animals?”

“I’m sure. Maybe it’s so we can haul more of them at a time … relocate them to the best environments.”

“There are so few left of certain species,” the old man said, as if he’d counted them in his head.

Bach smiled. “We’ll let them breed. Bring ’em back from the edge of extinction.”

Altemus studied information on his wrist viewer. “Okay, partner, here’s the plan for this three-piece spacecraft. We’ll convert the Wizard’s cargo bay into operations and crew facilities and use it as the mother ship. We’ll house the animals within the circular space station according to environmental needs. And we’ll reconfigure the AstroLab to carry numerous passengers. The station’s left to right passageway will serve as a direct route between the Wizard and AstroLab.”

“Sounds good,” Bach said. “I’ve designed a two-part plan for the AstroLab’s modification. The first will be chambers suited to every environment so all the planets’ inhabitants will feel at home. And the second will be both heat-collecting and electronic power sources so it can fly independently of the mother ship.”

“What’s the purpose of configuring the AstroLab to fly independently?”

Bach fiddled around nervously. “So we can use it like a visitation ship or ferry rocket.”

Altemus’s lips shuddered with exhaled air. “Well, our old Kingships weren’t as complex, but this is a new era.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “What should we call her?”

“Don’t look at me,” Bach said. “I hate naming things.”

“Best name I ever came up with for an old Kingship was ‘Starsong’,” Altemus said. “Named it after Star—a blessing late in life for Casso and me. Star loved to sing children’s songs when she was young. She has a beautiful voice.”

“Beautiful woman, beautiful voice.” Bach raised his eyebrows up and down playfully.

“You should have her sing to you sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

Altemus peered over the top of his glasses. “What’s stoppin’ you?”

Bach felt like a schoolboy asking a father to date his daughter. He fought a red-faced rush, fiddled with the moldings on the walls for no reason, and changed the subject. “How can I top a name like ‘Starsong’?”

“Make it meaningful,” Altemus said.

“Meaningful,” Bach repeated, looking around as he paced the floor. “Skytrain? Zone Runner? Omniquest?” He walked to where Altemus sat thumbing through the space station’s old logbook. “I’ve got it! This ship is the first and only of its kind—the Alpha.”

The old man didn’t move. After a few seconds, one eye squinted and a weak smile broke across his hardened face. He rose with a grimace, pointed a laser pen at the ceiling and announced as he wrote in the air, “Kingship Alpha,” as if bestowing a royal title. He placed a hand on Bach’s shoulder to steady himself, and his steely blue eyes stared into Bach’s hazel eyes. “You know this undertaking will get dangerous if the enemy finds out. They’ll see us as trying to gain back the favor of the other planets’ inhabitants.”

“What if they show up while we’re out here?”

“We’ll detect them incoming and, hopefully, get away. But they mustn’t get their hands on the solid fuel system, so I’ll build it as a component and install it last.”

“Great idea. And with the light cycles of black night or golden glow, they won’t spot us easily. And there’s nothing left of value, so they’ve probably abandoned surveillance of this area.” Bach looked out the open doorway. “Still, we should work alone as much as possible. And we can’t be seen leaving the Skyprism together. By the way, you’ve never told me how to tell when the death lake is deadly. When I’m out here by myself, I’ll need to know.”

Altemus pointed to the floor. “Sit with me for a minute.”

Bach helped his mentor to the floor.

“Remember when we were in the test lab late one night and I took you for a ride through the facility in my personal hovercart; told you I’d share something with you one day regarding that blue cart?”

“Yeah.”

“Today’s the day.” Like a gambler giving up his best secret, Altemus leaned over and whispered, “My blue hovercart’s a hiding place for my latest ‘mastermind’ project, my personal weapon, known only to Star, and now you. Housed within my cart’s undercarriage is a tiny, but powerful, device called an Electro Magnetic Organism Galvanometer … EMOG for short. I’ve developed it to detect changes in the death lake’s plasma field. When the water’s free of harmful enzymes, in antiseptic mode, the EMOG will sink to the bottom like everything else. But when the enzymes turn deadly, it repels from the water’s surface and levitates.”

“Remarkable.”

“A small effort to stay ahead of the enemy,” the elder replied.

“Don’t others wonder how you can tell when it’s in death lake phase or antiseptic phase?”

“I told them I’ve broken a rhythm code to the lake’s cyclical patterns.”

“That sounds logical. What’s the EMOG look like?”

“Two inches top to bottom. U-shaped. Semi-flexible, transparent, brilliant blue in color.”

“U-shaped?”

“Yes. For a reason I don’t understand, it works only in that configuration. And there’s a major drawback, a nasty side effect.”

“What’s that?”

“It scrambles electronic equipment across the entire spectrum.” He flinched. “Ruined a roomful of lab equipment the night I invented it. No sleep that night while I came up with an energy blocking material to neutralize the force. I lined my hovercart with the material, and I hide the EMOG there. I’m trying to perfect a second EMOG for Star, but can’t seem to get it right.”

“If the EMOG scrambles electronic equipment, how do you get the device to the lake?”

“I ride the cart through the spaceport to the hangar and into a ground transporter, then fly off on business as usual. Tried more than once to find a way to condense the insulating material down to something easily transportable, like a pocket-sized box, but so far no luck, and no time.”

“Yeah, a small box sounds like a great idea. Just don’t invite me to come along when you test-fly with the prototype in your pocket.”

“Discovery requires a leap of faith,” Altemus replied matter-of-factly. He returned to his notes, mumbling, rapping his fingers on the logbook’s open pages and loudly expelling breath from his lips. “Much to do: install new radar unit, life-support management systems, bonded alloys, convert to solid fuel.”

Bach stepped to his partner’s side. “Add a remote controlled ramp in the Wizard. When we travel to the other planets, disembark and lock up, we’ll need to get back in from outside.”

Altemus grumbled, “Remote controlled ramp.”

*****

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The workday had long ended in Dura’s massive research center, but Bach worked late, frustrated and exhausted. The restoration project had fallen behind schedule and he had ideas to move things along, but needed to record the details in private. For security, he used a pressure-sensitive electronic data pad, and a retention pen that left no print on the pad and encrypted up to five hundred lines of text in memory. He would upload it later to a decryption computer. The pen beeped verification at the end of each written line.

Bach wrote: Program robots to work at higher efficiency. (Beep). Acquire a sixth robot. (Beep). Activate refrigeration systems in portions of environmental module and animals’ module. (Beep). Turn on simulated sunlight in hydroponics chamber. (Beep).

Several sentences later he realized the pen hadn’t beeped for a few lines. He shook it and wrote again on the data pad. No beep. “Oh, no, I can’t lose my data.” The power indicator showed active, but to be sure, he stuck the pen into a charging unit and inspected the pad. Then he noticed something odd; a brownish spot, like a watermark, on the pad’s surface. A watermark? That wasn’t there before. And nothing would imprint on that pad.

Little by little, the spot gained definition. The Specter’s hypnotic eyes stared from the pad and taunting words rolled from his flickering silver tongue. “Don’t be misled by Dura’s sorcerers, Bach. The Ultimate World is not evil. Dura is evil. Unite with me. I can bring harmony to all of creation.” He seemed to wait for a reply, then became resolute. “If you don’t, I’ll have Kaz forget you … perhaps fall in love with Lynch.” The pupils in his eyes funneled toward another dimension. “If you want Kaz and your crewmates back, just share the fuel formula. You’ve won Altemus’s favor with your devotion and virtue. You’ll be his confidant before he dies.”

The Specter’s message sliced through Bach’s mind like a razor blade. He slammed the data pad against the workstation then heaved it across the floor all in one motion, watching as it skidded to a stop where Lavender Rose had sat. It took him a while to calm down.

After retrieving the damaged device, he hurriedly uploaded the information he had stored in the pen to the decryption computer before anything else could go wrong. In a post-adrenaline state of exhaustion, he didn’t hear approaching footsteps.

“So…,” Wilde grabbed a nearby chair, spun it around alongside Bach and straddled it. “keeping yourself company a lot lately, huh? You’ve virtually dropped out of sight, and Altemus is riding you like a one-man rescue craft. Tell him to back off and let you have a social life.”

Bach searched for words and, at the same time, noted Wilde’s odd attire—not the standard jumpsuit, but a white shirt and satiny black pants, both trimmed in shiny silver. “Uh, just enjoying, you know, learning. This technology’s incredible. If we were to get this far on Earth we could change conditions there, turn things around.”

The oddball genius swiveled his chair side to side, eyes fixed on the computer panel.

Bach jerked the retention pen from the download slot. A morphing display of shapes and colors flickered on the panel.

Wilde tapped his fingernail on the glass panel and raised his eyebrows. “What did I catch a glimpse of, temperature controlled environments? Looked interesting. Maybe I can add insight.”

“It’s a hypothetical design for eventual intergalactic travel. Pure speculation on space environments. Just having fun.”

“Fun? We don’t see you all day then you spend long nights here. That’s not fun.”

“I’m learning as much as I can from Altemus. He knows his time is short, that’s why we’re together so much. He tells me his visions for Jenesis. This new technology challenges me to bring them to life.”

“A noble goal. But now, old buddy, it’s time to log off, exit, and shut down. You’re coming to a party.”

“No, thanks, I’m out of place in group situations. And when I do pack up for the night, I plan to decompress and get some sleep. I’m tired.”

Wilde stood firm. “I insist!” He rose from his chair. “It’s a big event. We’re rewarding our internal investigation team for exposing a Rook among us. Poor guy.”

“What happened to him?”

“A dip in the death lake.” He jostled Bach’s shoulder. “Log off, buddy, you’re a free man tonight, and—”

Bach talked over him. “I don’t have time.”

Strengthening his grip on Bach’s shoulder, Wilde said, “Bad excuse … won’t work. Log off.”

Bach spoke into a microphone attached to the computer. “Save. Close. Exit.” The panel went dark, and the system shut down.

#

Wilde and Bach entered the Skyprism’s party facility, an oversized room resembling a cave, complete with rocky walls, ledges, and crevasses. Silver foil streamers swirled from air jets high in the domed ceiling, and tiny rotating lights flashed off hundreds of mirrored chips embedded in the concave walls. On a stage off to one side, a band played a pulsing tune, and dozens of Durans on the dance floor in their black and white clothing with silvery trim hopped up and down to the beat. Ghostly blue lighting stripped the color from their faces, making them seem more like robots than living beings.

Bach watched for a minute then turned to speak to Wilde, only to find he’d slipped away. Staring into the sea of blue-tinged faces, he talked to himself, “Sneak out and go to bed. No one will miss you.” As he turned to leave, cheers, applause, and laughter broke from a group playing electronic games on the far side of the room. The energy and excitement enticed him. Maybe Wilde’s right … I should loosen up. He made his way to the gaming area and stood to one side, uncomfortable as the only one wearing the standard silver jumpsuit. The group separated into four teams of six, and a moderator reset two electronic games that projected images onto midair particles visible within an area the size of a movie screen. Troubles faded from Bach’s mind and he enjoyed a strategic game of good versus evil played in real time. When the electronic bad guys destroyed the good guys with one strike, he moaned and groaned with the spectators, then moved on. Turning his attention back to Durans on the dance floor, he noticed their moves now resembled dancing on Earth. I’m still out of place.

As Bach looked for Wilde in the crowd, a pretty, blond woman smiled at him from about thirty feet away. He inadvertently smiled back and noticed she was headed his way. He looked down at his feet. “Oh, no.”

Before he could look again, someone clamped both hands over his eyes from behind. He winced, then sighed. “Lavender!”

“How’d you know? I just got here. You didn’t see me come in.”

“Your fragrance gives you away.”

Lavender swung around in front of him and leaned close to his face. “Glad you like my DNA.” Her voice seemed more coarse than usual. “You know I miss being near you in the comm center. It’s no fun in spec oversight. I hate it. But tonight,” her voice lowered, “I have you all to myself, away from all that tiresome stuff.” While Lavender rambled on, Bach scanned the crowd for the blond. He didn’t see her, but couldn’t miss Wilde standing near the dance floor on the other side of the room, staring right at him. Wilde’s staunch, motionless presence made the dancers seem a blur.

Lavender noticed Wilde at the same time and quieted down. He signaled for her to join him. She flipped her head and turned around, only to find that Bach had slunk away. She chased after him and tried to lead him onto the dance floor, but he stepped back to resist and bumped into someone. He turned to apologize and found Wilde.

“You need to relax,” Wilde said, grasping Bach’s forearm and shoving a glass with smoke rising from it into his hand. “Join the party. This stuff makes me true to my name, it’s wild!”

The opaque white drink had a weird glow, like milk under a blacklight. Bach grimaced.

“It’s Axxis, spelled with two x’s,” Wilde said, “so named because it’ll rotate you right off yours.” He laughed and walked away.

Lavender pushed the glass to Bach’s mouth. “Try it.”

With the steaming Axxis under his nose, Bach inadvertently inhaled the strong licorice aroma. His gut twisted, remembering one day as a kid when too much licorice sent his stomach contents airborne. “Really, Lavender, I don’t want to drink anything. I want to go to bed. I’m tired.”

“Just try it. It’s not intoxicating. It’s a power juice … jolts you with energy.”

He shook his head.

She plucked the glass from his hand, slugged down the Axxis, and licked her lips. “Whooo. Now I’ll be awake until tomorrow.”

“Terrific,” he mumbled, stepping back to scan the crowd. “Is Star here?”

“Oh Star, Star, busy little researcher, trying to find a way to save our planet. Oh, excuse me, I digress. No, she’s not here.”

Bach changed the subject, “Wilde wasn’t kidding when he said this party was a good one.”

“Yeah, they always celebrate when infiltrating Rooks are discovered and relieved of their positions.”

“They celebrate?”

“They, we, us … you know.” Lavender’s eyes blinked rapidly. She threw her head back and mimicked the drumbeat. “Boom, boom, boom.”

Bach tried to get away, but the Axxis-overdosed fanatic followed in his footsteps. He saw Reno approaching and yelled and waved. “Hey, Reno!”

Reno walked up with a big smile and shook Bach’s hand. “Bach! Glad you joined us. We haven’t had a party in a while.”

Bach looked like he was smiling, but he was whispering through his teeth. “Help. Get me away from her.” Pleading eyes flashed toward Lavender Rose.

Reno put his arm over Bach’s shoulder and spoke loudly. “Let’s head over to the refreshment table. I’ll point out a few good snacks.”

Walking away, Bach took a quick peek over his shoulder. Lavender waved. The hazy blue light gave her pale skin and gray eyes a creepy, luminescent look.

At the snack tables, Reno poked a plate into Bach’s hand. “Elan and I got this fruit on a co-op hop. Planet Maon had a growth season. Have you learned yet about the unusual properties of certain foods? Firefruits, quees, and camlings, to name a few.” He pointed to a fuzzy red berry. “Firefruits terminate intoxication.”

Bach smiled. “I already know about that one.”

Reno held up a brittle-looking yellow object the size of his little finger. “This,” he said, “is a quee, a cross between fruit and vegetable … result of experimentation. Looks dry, but has a liquid core. Put a flame to a quee and it launches sky high. Great source of amusement at times.”

Bach held a quee in his palm and poked at it with his finger. “They’re edible?”

“Yeah. Burns a little going down, sour, but good for cleansing the palate.”

“I’d rather launch it than eat it,” he said.

Reno picked through a bowl of astral foods and pulled out something that looked like a dark brown fortune cookie. “Camling,” he stated.

“Camling,” Bach repeated. “Where have I heard that word before?”

“Fruit’s delicious,” Reno said, “but swallow one of the small seeds and you’ll drop in your tracks and sleep for hours. Not poisonous; just tranquilizing to the point of immobilization. Used medically. Here, taste one.”

“Uh, maybe later.”

Reno tossed down a handful of pellets that looked like red-skinned peanuts while Bach inventoried the unusual fare. Soon, curiosity got the better of him and he pulled a camling from its thorny stem. Avoiding the dozen small black seeds in the middle, he nibbled the outer edges then rolled the pulp around in his mouth. His face lit up with a smile. “Mmmm. Tastes like chocolate, like a chewy brownie. It’d be easy to get carried away and swallow a pit without knowing it. Mmmm.” He ate two more.

“We’re here to dance,” said the dreaded voice of Lavender Rose as she slithered in front of Bach with a come-hither look. The pretty blond he’d seen across the room was with her. Lavender touched Bach’s chest. “I get him.” She waved her hand toward Elan. “Oh, by the way, Bach, this is Elan, Reno’s crewmate.”

Bach stepped away from Lavender and moved closer to the mystery woman. “Nice to meet you, Elan.”

Elan’s green eyes drank him in, but there was no chance at conversation with Lavender Rose’s nonstop babbling.

While locked in a stare with Elan, Bach mentally sorted through bits of information. So, the mystery woman is Elan … her name came up at worship. Maybe late twenties. Reno’s crewmate. Hmmm. Small world.

Swaying to the music, Reno pulled Elan onto the dance floor. Lavender tugged on Bach’s hand. He yelled louder than intended, “I don’t want to dance.” The playful look on her face turned to a pout, but he didn’t notice. Watching the co-op partners enjoying a close dance triggered memories of life on Earth and holding Kaz in his arms.

Lavender broke his train of thought. “Sooo, why don’t you like me?” She moved to within inches of his face and rocked her chest forward. “You know I’m wildly attracted to you.” Her breath smelled of Axxis.

He pulled away. “I have a fiancée.”

“A fiancée? How interesting … no, how disgusting. You couldn’t have found someone that quickly. You haven’t been here long enough. Who is she?”

“She’s not a Duran, she’s my crewmate from Earth … captive in Ulwor with three others. I have to rescue them before the new year. I want her with me.”

Lavender narrowed her eyes. “Want her with you? What’s happening in the new year?”

“You, you didn’t let me finish. I have to get my crewmates here, to Dura. I know they won’t cooperate with the Ultimate World’s principals. They may be harmed. The new year is my personal goal to rescue them.”

“That doesn’t sound right. What’s the real reason?”

“They’re great people whose skills will benefit Dura. You’ll like them all.”

Lavender persisted like a blood-seeking mosquito. “Still not the real reason … and I won’t like her. But I love challenges, and I want you to owe me. By the new year, huh? Ten days to get them. What’s it worth to you?”

“Lavender…,” Bach rested his hands on her shoulders, “you’re going through a tough time since your spouse defected to Ulwor. I have the same hopeless feeling. When we worked together, I respected and valued your knowledge and skills. How can we elude Ulwor’s security? Please, I’ll do whatever I can to repay you.”

“Well, you’ll never circumvent the Ultimate World’s security and rescue four people, but since … what’s your fiancée’s name?”

“Kaz.”

“Since Kaz and the others don’t want to be there, the Specter might negotiate. He wants loyal followers.”

Lavender led Bach to a service bar away from the music and crowd and selected two cups filled with an icy purple sludge. She handed a cup to him and said, “Bells,” in her raspy voice, then clinked her cup to his. He tried not to watch as she wrapped her lips around the straw and sucked the thick drink with pleasure. “Much better,” she purred, “need to settle down and think.” She motioned for Bach to drink. He flinched. She shook her head. “It’s Eezee. Taste it.”

He complained inside his head. Don’t want to be here, much less try another astral concoction with unknown consequences. He sniffed the grapey-smelling slush and blasted air from his nose in disgust. “I’m not thirsty right now, Lavender, and I don’t need to settle down. I didn’t drink any Axxis to get wound up in the first place. I need your help.”

“Don’t worry. Eezee’s not intoxicating. It’ll clear extraneous matter from your mind. You’ll have full concentration. Then we can talk.”

Bach feigned camaraderie and took a few sips. I wonder if she’s telling the truth about the effects of this stuff. The syrupy, acidic Eezee burned going down, and he couldn’t help but recall his frivolous experience with Lavender and a few drops of sparkling water. He set the cup back on the bar. “Don’t like it.” When he turned around, Lavender was twelve inches from his face. She wrapped her arms around his neck like tentacles and before he could react, her open-mouthed kiss warmed his gasping lips. He resisted for a moment. Then, perhaps it was the purple drink, her enchanting scent, or the forgotten taste of a female’s kiss, but his body responded with a tinge of pleasure that stirred emotions he didn’t want stirred.

She whispered in his ear, “You know what? I could rescue your fiancée and crewmates tonight, but I’m going to make you wait.”

Fists clenched at his sides, Bach tried to step back. “Lavender, help me. How can we get them back?”

Another whisper. “I’ve got an ‘in’ with the Specter.”

Wilde appeared as if summoned by an alarm and forced his way between the two. Lavender draped her arm over her cohort’s shoulder. “Wilde knows all about that. Don’t you Mister Wilde, oh wild one?”

Wilde’s knuckles whitened in a grip on her arm. “Enough, Lavender. You’ve gone too far.” He smirked at Bach. “She’s a great little manipulator … just doesn’t know when to quit. Thinks because her spouse is with the enemy she’ll have privileges.” She tried to shake from his grasp. “Apply your moral brakes, Lavender.” Wilde escorted the loose-lipped seductress through the crowd toward the snack table. She resisted all the way but he held fast, then searched for a camling and force-fed it to her, seeds and all.

Bach’s emotions rocketed toward deep space. Damn, she was ready to help me. I know I can get my crewmates back and I can’t let more time pass. Should I defect and join them as a ruse? With what I’ve learned, we can all escape. But what if the Specter keeps me from Kaz … uses our love against us as torture? Party sounds melded into meaningless jumble.

No one noticed when Bach slipped through a side door into the darkness. A box of light-emitting wands on a patio table caught his eye. He stuck two into his pocket, and activated another. The wand illuminated an area fifteen yards in diameter. Music from inside played through the patio speakers. A female singer’s haunting lyrics seemed a twist of fate. “When darkness clouds a starry sky, and suns and moons give up and die; when quenching waters fade away, and mighty lives fall to decay; there is a higher ground.”

Bach stared into the dark Jenesis night where nothing could be seen except the glowing, golden thread of light suspended over the crest of distant Mount Hope. He pulled the eternity circle necklace from inside his jumpsuit and let it rest on his chest. The singer continued, “You’ll see the sign of truth … the light … the mountain’s higher ground.”

He had to reach the holy hill.

*****

Heart pounding, Bach set out toward the light with a strong, steady pace. As he clipped off mile after mile of barren terrain, his feet grew steadily heavier and a drenching sweat pasted the shimmery jumpsuit to his skin. Yet he labored on, hot air funneling down his throat and salty sweat droplets streaming from the ends of his hair into his eyes. Struggling to breathe as the last mile approached, he slowed his pace to rest—body aching and thighs spasming into knots. But with the light from infinity growing ever nearer, he relentlessly pressed on toward his goal.

Finally! The mountain! Bent over with hands on knees, Bach struggled to catch his breath. Dry coughs emptied his lungs.

One more obstacle.

The sweating, groaning soldier sprinted a hundred yards up the incline and stepped into the golden beam. Weakened and weary, he dropped to his knees, leaned his forearms onto the ground, and rested his head on his clasped hands. After a gasp for breath he cried out, “Almighty! Your will is done.” Another gasp. “The earthship’s restoration will be completed in ten days … by the new year.” He paused, as if anticipating a reply. “I need guidance.”

Agonizing silence, punctuated by Bach’s labored breathing, spanned what seemed an eternity.

He waited … and waited, searching the awe-inspiring oracle and holding open light-blinded eyes until involuntary muscles slammed them shut.

A pale breeze fanned the mount. He felt it drift over his head. Then an incoming charge of positive energy surged through his every bone and muscle, and a cool mist quenched his thirst.

Renewed, he called out, “I am ready.”

From the startling stillness came a sound like the slash of a sword, only magnified a hundred times. A white shaft of light projected through the golden tunnel, and the beam etched a perfect circle into the sand at his knees.

Bach’s eyes followed the light as it crossed the circle—top to bottom, then right to left.

The Creator spoke.

“Bach, my faithful apprentice. Remember this sign of my chosen ones. Your travel will take you through the zone of Balal in search of one man and one woman from each of the planets. You will recognize those most faithful ones by this symbol of hope, but they will not have it knowingly. Be not defeated in your search. Resolve trials through spiritual discernment. The faithful ones will accept your calling.”

As further instructions arrived from above, Bach’s eyes stayed riveted to the icon burned into the ground. Then, with heart thumping and prayers caught in his throat, he looked into the blinding light and nodded agreement.

When the energy subsided, he covered the symbol with sand.

*****

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

During the next nine days, Bach didn’t see Lavender Rose again. She was somewhere at the Skyprism facility because his research and hers interfaced, but her absence was peculiar.

With the new year and liftoff a day away, Bach rushed to Altemus’s office and, as he entered, flung the half-closed door full open in his haste.

Busy checking a schematic, the old man motioned without looking up for his colleague to wait. Bach fidgeted, but said nothing during the few minutes it took Altemus to finish.

The elder rested his arms on the desk and squinted at his partner through bloodshot eyes that seemed not to focus. He removed his trifocals and tossed them aside with a stifled huff. “Our fuel production specialists are making enough briquette bases for Alpha to fly to planet En Gedi and back. I designated two bogus co-op missions to cover the fuel you’ll need, and it went without question from the security board.”

Bach hovered over his mentor like a worried parent. “Altemus, the Creator gave me another instruction last night. We’re not flying to one planet at a time. It’s a seventeen-day mission. I’ll need enough fuel to reach all the planets and to get back home.”

“All … and back home in one trip? At the last minute?” Altemus rested his forehead in both hands. “Bach. I don’t know. Producing that much fuel will raise suspicion.” He tapped on a small device and complained. “It’s well beyond our normal production run and, worse, Alpha’s fuel chamber isn’t designed to hold that much. You’ll be vulnerable with extra fuel stored on board.”

“We need it by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Bach paced the floor. “Why, all of a sudden, is everything getting even harder at the last minute?” He looked at Altemus. “And tell me what you make of this. This morning, I found an Electro Glove sketchpad at my workstation. Not mine. Something about it bothered me, so before anyone claimed it, I processed it to see if I could make out writing or sketch indentations. Something at the top looked like a title with a capital A, three question marks, and another capital A. Numbers ran downward—like answers or questions. Beside the first number was ‘new year’ followed by a question mark. That’s all I could make out. Altemus, does the Specter’s underground know about Alpha?”

“Well, Bach, we can’t rule that out, but our new year is always significant as a fresh start. It’s generally the target date for lengthy projects.”

“But what about the two A’s with three question marks in-between, like a code, as if they know about Alpha.”

Altemus sat up in his chair and motioned Bach to the window overlooking the production floor. The two wurr animals were missing from the ledge. Bach looked out to see Dura’s long-awaited starship painted, groomed, and ready for her maiden flight. Thick black letters running the hull’s length christened her ASTRA.

He hooted, rushed to the desk, and lifted his genius friend from the chair with a big hug. “You named the service vehicle Astra! A perfect ploy! It begins and ends with an A, and has five letters like Alpha. They’ll think that Astra is the ship they’re looking for.”

Altemus took a deep breath. “I like to stay a step ahead when I can.” He shoved his trembling hands into his pockets. “And I scheduled Astra’s test flight for tomorrow to keep everyone busy.”

Bach sighed with relief. “Your insight’s amazing.”

Altemus smiled weakly. “I got a few instructions of my own from the Creator.” He shuffled a stack of papers. “I’ll get more fuel. I’ll rig the stats—tell the lab crews I increased starship Astra’s engines to burn hotter, it’ll take more for her test flight, and I’m flying her farther than planned. In the meantime, I have a few last minute things to do out at the Alpha site.” A long stream of air blasted from his lips before he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You know I’d love to see Alpha rising tomorrow, but these old eyes don’t see much of anything anymore.”

Bach turned to leave, fighting emotion. “There’s not much to see on the outside—low tech exterior.” He stopped at the office door and ran his hand over Altemus’s nameplate. “But your mastermind put it where it counts—superior mechanics. By the way, the name’s not on it yet. Instead of Alpha, I think we should name it after you.”

“The Altemus? I don’t think so. But thanks anyway.” He dug in his shirt pocket and pulled out a coin-sized object. “Almost forgot. Look at my wedding ring. I took it off at the Alpha site—hands were swelling—found it later when I stepped on it.”

Bach examined the flattened ring. “Hmmm. Not good. I’ll get it fixed for you.” He hung the tree of life ring on the chain with his eternity circle. The tree’s trunk with its two small branches now formed the shape of a cross. His mind flashed back to the symbol the Creator burned into the ground at Mount Hope. His heart skipped a beat. The ring, overlaid on his circle, formed the same icon. He couldn’t hide his feelings.

Altemus nodded. “A sign of hope, my partner.”

Bach wiped his eyes as he stepped behind the desk to hug his accomplice one more time. “I have work to do … have to hurry.”

*****

Altemus gathered his strength and stuffed a pillowcase-like duffel bag into his jumpsuit, then left the office and ambled through the communications center to a vacuum lift. His gait was erratic, but his authority evident.

At the fuel depository, he overrode security devices, left the lights off, and slipped into the storeroom.

As the old man worked fast and furiously, stuffing briquettes into the duffel bag, a lightning bolt of pain ripped through his torso and, for a moment, left him senseless. Doubled over, desperate for relief, he pressed his fists hard against his chest and held tight. Seconds of agony sapped his strength, but he struggled to continue the heist.

A duty-guard in the security room detected movement in the fuel storage area. He monitored his systems for a moment, then taking no chances, activated the warning system. A screaming siren split the air and massive iron gates dropped to the floor with bone-jarring force.

Altemus cut short his pilfering, and with cool authority exited the storeroom with the duffel bag. He used his security key to pass through the gates and, with feet shuffling, moved watchfully along the facility’s wall.

“Stop!” A voice amplified above the shrill siren. “Don’t move!”

Altemus ignored the command and rounded a corner. By dumb luck, he came upon a trash hauler ten feet away halted by the alert. The tram’s flatbed carried garbage bags and empty boxes. Altemus hustled forward and dumped all but six briquettes into a box marked ARCHIVE LABELS then walked on with a lighter load.

“Halt!” the voice commanded. Two burly guards rounded the corner—one grabbed the elder from behind.

“Altemus?” the guard said in surprise. “What are you doing? You’ve triggered a vandalism alert. Our fuel inventory shows an unexplained shortage.”

“An obvious error,” he sniffed.

“You know it’s forbidden to override security,” the other guard stated. “Now give me that bag!”

Altemus wrestled from his captor’s grasp and held the duffel bag to his chest. “I’m allowed in that room whenever I please.”

“Data shows a sizeable amount of fuel missing,” said one guard. “How do we know you’re not acting under duress—that the enemy’s not forced you to steal?” He jerked the bag away. “You made the rules, Altemus, you must follow them.” He shook the lightweight bag quizzically, then reached inside. Moving six squares around the bottom he said, “What’s going on here? This is nothing.”

“Let me see that,” grumped the assistant. He shook the briquettes around. “Not even enough for a start up.”

Both guards shrugged, and one radioed in an all-clear. The alarm ceased, and activity resumed in the facility.

Altemus lifted the bag from the guard’s hands and announced, “I’m taking this fuel to the construction hangar. Going to roll out Astra and fire her up.” He took a deep breath. “I’m the grandson of the first pilot to traverse our zone, you know. No, you wouldn’t remember, you’re too young. But, I know all there is to know about starships. I’m the best test pilot there is. Built the old Kingships from scratch.” He took off his glasses and nonchalantly cleaned them on his sleeve. To his horror, the tram driver pulled away.

“There’ll be no test flight today, Altemus,” said a guard. “Astra’s inaugural run is scheduled for tomorrow; you can hitch a ride then. And you, of all people, know it’s a bad idea to have the fuel out of a lockbox.” He reached for the bag. “Let me put this back for you.”

Nervous sweat dotted Altemus’s forehead. He tucked the bag under his arm, drew the back of his hand across his dry lips and said, “No. I’m the only one to fuel her up and fly her!”

The guard put his hand on the bag and pulled. “You can fuel and ride Astra tomorrow. I’ll return this for you now.”

The elder clutched the duffel bag with both hands. Even though he hadn’t applied the final touch to the fuel, he wouldn’t dare let a speck of it out of his hands.

The guard grew impatient. “Give me the bag and leave right now and we won’t take you in. Otherwise, you’ll be faced with interrogation by the elder council for breaking your own rules, and you know all about that.”

Altemus’s demeanor changed. “Very well,” he snapped, “but I’ll be the one to put the fuel back in the storeroom, not you.”

Ready to get the incident over with, the guards followed the old man to the fuel depository and waited outside while he unlocked a series of gates and stepped into the vault to return the meager ration of briquettes. He emerged a few minutes later and tossed the empty duffel bag to a guard, then wiped his hands together. “Now be on your way.”

With the six fuel briquettes stuffed in his jumpsuit, Altemus slipped through the shadows in an all-out search for the tram. Rushing and wheezing, he roamed the lengths of three corridors until he grew so weak he braced himself against a door frame to catch his breath. But thoughts of lost time and the fuel shortage stoked his determination. “Not yet … haven’t beat me yet,” he said with a dogged snort.

Knowing the tram’s route would end at the basement reclamation facility, Altemus stepped into the nearest lift to start a floor-by-floor search. The rapid descent one floor down reeled his head. The deserted area had lights out, so he descended another level. When the lift door opened, he was face to face with the young tram driver. But the tram wasn’t there. He squinted and looked harder. No tram. He smiled at the youth. “You off work? I don’t see your tram.”

“Not off yet. Got to the compactor and realized I forgot to check for boxes on this floor after the alarm. Didn’t want to bring the tram back if I didn’t have to. Got lucky, they only had two bags today.” He held up two full bags.

“Well, that sure worked out well for you.” Altemus smiled as best he could through his pain. “By the way, can I get a few empty boxes?”

“Yeah, no problem. But I can’t bring ’em to you. You’ll have to catch me down at the compactor. I’m late for checkout due to the stupid alert.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I need to pick out the right size anyway. I’ll just follow along.”

The two rode the lift to the underground destruction facility where the trash hauler was parked beside massive shredding and compacting equipment. The sight of the tram, now loaded to overflowing with an array of refuse and containers, weakened the old man’s spirit.

The youth leapt into action, tossing boxes and debris into the compactor’s crushing jaws.

Head spinning, Altemus ambled to the front of the tram and purposely stumbled into the metal railing enclosing the flatbed. Dozens of boxes thundered down.

The young man stopped working and glared.

The elder held up his hands. “So sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to make more work for you.”

“Forget it.” The kid kicked the boxes along the floor to the shredders.

Altemus mumbled to himself, “I know it’s near the back.”

He’d rifled through a dozen boxes when a crushing chest pain took him down to one knee. Gripping the tram’s railing with quivering hands, he squeezed until his knuckles whitened. The pain subsided.

Oblivious to the old man’s plight, the hyperactive youth worked with rhythmic moves, tossing boxes and trash into the huge grinding mechanisms. Every toss moved him closer to the back.

Altemus watched from the corner of his eye and picked up the pace. Stretching over waist-high railings with arms aching, thoughts of defeat goaded him on. All or nothing. He pulled a door-sized piece of cardboard from the pile. An avalanche of boxes rained down.

Shouts from the youth dissolved in the noise when the old man saw the box stamped ARCHIVE LABELS. He pulled it free and disguised its weight by tucking it under one arm while juggling a larger empty box in the other hand. “Thanks, buddy,” he shouted as he headed for the lift.

*****

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Bach slept fitfully, muscles jerking. In his dream, he descended a floating staircase leading to a fog-shrouded garden of vibrant greenery and gigantic flowers. One deep red flower beckoned him and he succumbed to the crimson temptress’s overpowering appeal. Trampling over lesser flowers to reach it, head dizzy with anticipation, he cupped his hands around the petals and inhaled its magnificent raspberry fragrance.

The flower responded to his touch and, in what seemed like computer art unfolding pixel-by-pixel, revealed the Specter’s face in a yellow haze. “Behold the Ultimate World,” said the evil one. “Alas, you’ve rushed in vain to take your true love back to Dura.”

Now the dream became a panoramic view of the garden with a pathway winding through vibrant flowers. A man and a woman, both wearing matching red shirts with black crossed-circle emblems on the back, walked away hand-in-hand. They stopped for a passionate kiss, turned their heads and looked back—Kaz and Lynch.

Bach ran after them, legs moving in slow motion, waving, shouting, “Kaz, I’m here.” She looked back again, this time patting her pregnant stomach. Bach’s eyes darted from her stomach to Lynch’s gloating face. He pressed his hands against his eyes. When he looked again, the scene had changed, now the waving flowers were hundreds of warriors in red shirts with black symbols. Their orange eyes summoned him onward.

The Specter’s image slowly overtook the dream. The yellow haze grew larger. “We are the chosen ones,” his evil voice resonated with a distant echo. “And we have Altemus with us.”

Bach lurched awake to frantic raps at the door. He jumped out of bed, disoriented and mumbling, “Kaz … Altemus?” Drifting into clarity he yelped, “Oh, no, this is the day! I’ve overslept!” The knocking intensified. When he opened the door, Star rushed in talking faster than she ever had, saying her father was missing. Mouth agape, Bach only half listened as he noticed that the eternity circle pendant hanging around her neck aligned with the cross necklace he’d given her when they buried his crewmate Faith. The two necklaces formed the sacred icon.

Wondering if Bach understood her, Star rewound her message and delivered it a second time. “Dad didn’t come home last night. He left a note at Wilde’s workstation.” She took a quick breath and continued while Bach stared at the necklaces. “Oh, Bach,” she pled, “wake up. Dad’s note said you defected to Ulwor to rescue Kaz, and that he and I have gone to get you. Why would he leave a note like that?”

Bach tried to sort out Star’s message, the image of the symbol formed by the two necklaces, and his dream about Kaz. All of a sudden, as if the Creator placed a calming hand on his head, he connected to Star’s words and knew his first priority. He took her by the arm and rushed out the door. “Your dad’s note is a ploy, but we have to hurry. The Creator’s instructions are being fulfilled.”

“What instructions?”

“Let’s find Altemus. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

*****

CHAPTER NINETEEN

In the golden glow of Jenesis’s daylight phase, Altemus arrived at the restoration site with a robot to complete last minute tasks. As they transferred supplies from the ground transporter to the Alpha, the old man’s legs wobbled with every step, yet he labored on, wringing wet and burning with fever. After loading the last parcel inside the Alpha, he stopped for a drink of water, then staggered to the ramp and hoisted a paint compressor onto his shoulders like a backpack. Teeth chattering from chills, he braced himself for one last task. Unable to see more than a foot ahead, he snatched off his glasses and flung them near the back door. “Cloudy vision’s not going to stop me,” he growled.

With every bone and muscle in his body aching, Altemus hobbled down the ramp and braced against the railing of the scaffold left by the Rooks. Stepping onto the platform, he grasped the handrail and gazed up at the space station. Jaws clenched, he hugged his pain tight and bellowed at the formidable foe, “I’ve never been outdone by anything inanimate.” Numb fingers activated the lift.

The platform rose forty feet and wobbled to a stop with Altemus slumped on the floorboard. Head reeling like he’d stepped off a carnival ride, he slid the paint sprayer from his back with a whisper, “Please, Almighty.” On hands and knees, he fumbled to switch it on, but couldn’t. “Please,” he said again, pushing harder with his thumb. The valve slid open and the motor came on.

He managed to stand, but teetered backwards against the railing. The flimsy restraint bowed, as if ready to break and he struggled to rock forward to brace himself on the ship’s hull. Three wheezes from deep within his lungs brought the words, “I … christen thee … Kingship Alpha.” Hands trembling, he sprayed the letter A onto the ship. Straining to see its dark outline, he next painted the L. Over the drone of the compressor’s motor and hissing sprayer, Altemus heard something else. He stopped to listen. A high-intensity whine closed in and a powerful tremor rocked his body, bouncing his feet on the platform. He held his ears, and over the incoming craft’s razor-sharp treble shouted words that no one heard, “Damned enemy.”

The Rooks’ ship passed overhead, swirling Altemus’s silvery hair like a whirlwind. A waterspout waltzed across the lake. The glowing red spacecraft hovered for a moment then descended vertically twenty yards away. When the door slid open, two Rooks in blue jumpsuits stepped out, and one shouted up to Altemus on the scaffold, “Hey, old man, we’re havin’ a party and it looks like you get to come.”

Altemus’s mind raced with ideas to foil their plans, yet he acted nonchalant and continued lettering the ship. “Let me finish up here,” he yelled back.

The Rooks watched for a few minutes, laughing at the elder’s uneven lettering and clumsy handling of the paint sprayer. Then one nudged the other and they headed inside the Alpha.

Altemus turned the sprayer off and snorted, “Those fools can’t be inside my masterpiece.” He rode the lift to the ground and staggered toward Alpha’s open door. With vengeance in his stare and nerves jerking like he was possessed, he struggled for a good breath then yelled inside, “Is your party for me or my Kingship? I’m setting sail for galaxies unknown.”

A booming voice rang out, “Shut up!”

Hunched over to ease his pain, Altemus hobbled into the cabin waving his hand at the Rooks. “Here sons, I’ll show you my plans to start a new civilization in another galaxy. You can come along … we’ll rule our own empire!”

A Rook shoved him onto the wraparound padded bench in the cockpit area and bent over to eye level. “Why’d you lock the solid fuel tank old man?” His voice grated. “Are you so stupid you think a lock will keep us out?”

Sweating, with a glazed look in his eyes, Altemus smirked. “Solid fuel? Ha! How primitive, I don’t use solid fuel.”

The Rook shoved the old man’s chest. “Yeah, I bet … that’s why you locked it. Now sit there and shut up.” He pulled a tool from his utility belt and blasted the lock using a black particle beam. It liquefied and dripped to the floor. The sneering Rook focused on Altemus’s face, jerked off his glove and slipped his hand into the shaft. He let out a yowl, jumped back and flung a handful of foul-smelling glop across the cabin. Gagging in disgust at the slimy brown wad coating his hand, he jammed his fist under Altemus’s nose. “What’s this stuff?”

“My newest and most advanced fuel formula,” the wise old man replied with an air of pride.

The Rook snarled, “Liar.”

Altemus wobbled to his feet and pointed to the mucous-like puddle on the floor. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. After a long, shuddering breath, words tumbled out. “It’s liquid from fermented quees. I’m not allowed access to solid fuel anymore. Elder council terminated my security ranking. Said I’m old and crazy. But this will work, I tried a few drops on my lab model and it launched with the power of a small rocket.”

“Either you are old and crazy or you’re a good liar.” The Rook pushed Altemus toward the door. “Even if this crap does ignite, it won’t launch a ship this size. And the only trip you’re taking is with us. You’re exactly what we need.”

“Please, don’t take me away,” the elder said, “there’s more to do on my Kingship.”

“Kingship? Give it up old man, your life just changed.” The Rook shoved him down the ramp, then stopped and looked at his ally as if he had a revelation. “Wait! His little transporter might use solid fuel.”

The cohort ran toward the transporter to the sound of Altemus’s voice warbling across the sand. “There’s no fuel. Oh son! Come back, son! There’s no fuel.”

His captor cuffed him across the face. “Stop it! We’re not your sons.”

The old man’s right eye swelled. He rocked his head to one side. “We use liquid fuel.”

“Shut up, you’re driving me crazy.”

The cohort charged empty-handed from the transporter and grabbed Altemus by the chest. “Okay, genius, I tore the thing apart and liquidated your robot.” He shook the old man into a gasping fit of coughing. “Where’s the solid fuel? You burned something to get here.”

After a hard coughing spell, Altemus snobbishly replied, “I used exactly what I needed to get here … calibrated to the last crumb!” He coughed again. “I am a scientist, you know. I’m not going back to Dura. I’m taking my Kingship to another galaxy.”

The Rook pushed his captive toward the pulsing red enemy ship. “You’re only going as far as Ulwor. Then I’ll get the solid fuel recipe out of you.”

Altemus flinched. “Recipe? Oh, dear child, it’s not a recipe. It’s a formula. If you don’t call it a formula no one will know what you want. Call it a formula.”

The Rook lifted the old man from his feet and slammed him into a jumpseat behind the pilot’s seat. The three buckled up and the boomerang spacecraft tilted upright and shot through the illuminated sky. Altemus got his first glimpse of an enemy ship’s interior. The profusion of weaponry within arm’s reach brought a shiver.

As the craft leveled off above the golden planet the pilot detected a Duran ground transporter on approach. “Well, well, how interesting. Incoming chumps from Dura.” With a wicked cackle he arced the ship into a turn. “Let’s just head on back to Altemus Rider’s Kingship and pick up the new arrivals.”

“This is a neutral zone.” Altemus struggled to speak.

“Not anymore. Without you, things in Dura have changed, starting now.”

Altemus’s face glistened from the raging fever. With strength fading fast he strained to see out the pilot’s side window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the approaching transporter. But one eye swollen closed and cloudy vision in the other denied him.

Like lip-licking fools, the Rooks moved in for the kill. In the midst of their testosterone high, the copilot rocked back in his seat and flung a fist toward Altemus. “You know something about this don’t you, old man?”

Altemus’s open eye snapped shut defiantly.

The pilot powered his ship down.

Hands shaking, Altemus reached into his pocket, then rested his clenched fist at his side for a moment before tapping the gloating captain on the shoulder.

“Stop it!” grumbled the foe.

He jostled the captain again.

The copilot jumped up and landed a crushing blow to the old man’s head. “You’re dead!”

Altemus’s chin dropped to his chest. A warm stream of scarlet blood ran from his nose over his lips. His head bobbed to one side and nothing he said made sense. “Whining ears. Darkness. Light funnel. Star … Starsong.” Unable to raise his head, the elder lifted the small, but weighty box in his hand and, as if to gain strength or receive a blessing, clutched it to his chest for a moment. Then, his numb fingers opened the lid and removed something. Altemus struggled to lift his arm, then with a dying huff shoved the EMOG over the pilot’s shoulder.

Alarms blared, lights flashed, and the boomerang-like craft lurched and bucked, then flipped over at a ninety-degree angle. Helpless to react, dangling from their harnesses, the men’s bodies snapped back and forth. When the powerful engines shut down, the ship zigged and zagged like a kite without a tail, then corkscrewed into the death lake. A column of frothy water shot fifty-feet high, shrouding the area in a gray mist. The heaving lake crested with carnivorous bubbles and devoured its meal with a long-lasting hiss.

Bach and Star landed to the sight of the enemy ship sinking beneath the churning black water. He yelled out, “A Rook ship crashed!”

“What’s happened?” she cried as she glanced at the churning lake and bounded from the transporter without another word. Her father’s empty ship seemed a tragic forewarning. “No! Dad was here and so were the Rooks. Dad? Dad?” she yelled in a panic, stumbling across the deep sand toward the Alpha. “Where are you, Dad?”

Bach made a beeline to the old man’s transporter. The fuel chamber was destroyed and the liquefied robot lay puddled next to the blue hovercart. He darted to the steaming lake. “This is a cruel game.” Scanning the terrain, he spotted another grave on the hill next to Faith’s. His stomach knotted. “Altemus! They killed and buried Altemus!” Sand flying from his feet, he ran to the mound, dropped to his knees, and clawed at the ground with both hands. “He might still be alive. I’ll revive him.” His gut retched at feeling something solid, yet he dug deeper with hope, fear, and anger. “Boxes?” He ran back to the ship where Star waited at the ramp. Their anxious eyes connected.

“It’s boxes!” he said, trying to catch his breath.

She shook her head. “He’s not inside the main ship and the door leading to the other two is locked. Could he be on one of them?”

“No. The passageway door locks from the cockpit.”

“Did you check his transporter?”

“Ransacked. And his hovercart’s inside with a melted robot. He had to be with the enemy.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Dad. Maybe someone else came out here. Dad’s too smart, he would never have fallen into the Specter’s hands.” She looked at the sky as if he might appear in a rescue craft. “What if Dad was with them? They’ve crashed in the death lake.”

Bach led her inside to one of two, six-by-ten-foot, indestructible privacy rooms in the main cabin. He wanted to give her a moment to herself, but she grabbed his hand and wouldn’t let go. Looking in his eyes, she couldn’t speak.

“Star,” he struggled with his words, “he’s worked with me out here for a long time … fulfilling the Creator’s instructions. We couldn’t tell anyone. Yesterday he told me he had to make one more trip.”

Fighting emotion she said, “What made them crash? Ulwor’s ships have flawless failsafes.”

With Altemus nowhere to be found, and his hovercart inside the empty transporter, Bach felt sure that the ailing elder had fallen into enemy hands and was on the downed ship. He put his arm around Star and she nestled against his chest as he whispered, “Your father had divine guidance.” He choked up. “He knew exactly what he was doing.”

“I want to know for sure,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t leave until I know.”

He spoke softly, “He was a faithful man. It was hard to watch him suffer.”

She stood back and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her spacesuit, then ambled through the cabin. “Dad’s the tie that holds our continent together. If he’s dead, Dura will fall.” She headed to the lake.

Bach followed, and on his way out saw Altemus’s eyeglasses on the floor. He handed them to Star at the lake. She clutched the wire frames to her heart, knelt at water’s edge, and drew a circle in the sand.

He crouched alongside and drew intersecting lines over the circle—top to bottom—right to left. “You ran a good race,” he whispered. Then he jumped up. “Star! The fuel!” Loping through the sand like a track runner with Star at his heels, Bach headed straight to the fuel chamber, lifted the flap, and noticed the melted lock at the same time. He slammed the flap down, held his head with one hand and snorted, “They got the fuel.”

She watched in silence.

“What the heck’s going on?” he yelped. A moment’s hesitation turned to floor pacing. “No, they didn’t get our solid fuel, it’s here somewhere. Altemus couldn’t configure the ship to carry it all at once. He must have hid it!”

“You mean we’ll have spare fuel onboard?”

“There was no other way. Now where would he hide it?”

She looked around. “Try to think like he would.”

“Not possible!” he replied, shaking his head.

Together they searched the cockpit, mid-ship workstations, relaxation area, galley, privacy rooms, and everything fore and aft, port and starboard, but found nothing.

Bach flopped on the cockpit bench seat, glared at the profusion of gauges and pounded his fist on the console. “Where is it?”

Star sat beside him “This mission was arranged by the Creator, right?”

“But I’ve looked everywhere. And I don’t see the logbooks either.” He tapped his fingers against his lips and eyed the cabin. Then he jumped up and bolted to the rear exit. “‘Think like he would.’ I just figured it out.”

Bach’s three-foot stride carried him to the mound beside Faith’s where he dropped to his knees and dug deep into the sandy pit. He freed a box and lifted the lid. “The solid fuel!”

The bounty grew to five boxes of fuel, three logbooks, wrist viewers with technical data involved in Alpha’s restoration, copies of interplanetary journals, and a small wrapped package.

Sprinting between the gravesite and the ship he set the boxes and books outside the back ramp, yelling as he ran, “Wish that robot wasn’t damaged, I could use him.”

Star relayed the items inside and stepped back out. “How many more?”

He returned with his arms full. “Last ones. Here, take this.” He handed her a box the size of a phone book wrapped in white paper.

She shook the box side-to-side. Something heavy shifted an inch or two, and something else slid with a clunk. “It doesn’t sound like fuel.”

“Open it.”

She unwrapped it on the way inside. “Faith’s Bible … and an iridescent purple box.” She balanced the box in her hand. “It’s heavy. Some kind of alloy.”

“Looks like a big ring box,” he said.

Her peek inside ended with a puzzled huff. “Empty.” She shrugged and snapped it closed.

“Can’t be.” Bach grabbed the box. His hand dipped from the weight. “Wow, heavier than it looks.” He opened it then looked around the floor. “Did something fall out?”

“No, it was empty.”

He put the box in a drawer with the Bible. “We’ll figure it out later.”

Star filled a storage hold with the extra fuel while Bach took two boxes to the flight deck. Holding a mound of briquettes against his body in one hand, he flipped open the lid on the fuel shaft. Then he yelled, “We’ve been sabotaged! There’s liquid in the chamber.”

Star checked the chamber then, strangely, told Bach, “Put in the briquettes.”

He stared at her and again said, “There’s liquid in the chamber.”

“Try it,” she said, walking away while giving the ship the once-over.

Bach tried to slide a briquette into the slot, but it didn’t fit. He jammed it against the opening—turned it over, around, and sideways, and even tried twisting, before trying a second piece. “Star, they don’t fit,” he groused, “chamber’s too small. And I know it won’t work with that stinkin’ brown stuff in there. Why is this happening?”

She answered from aft ship, still looking around. “It’s Dad’s ruse for the Rooks … a phony fuel system. Now, help me find the real fuel chamber.”

Bach searched one side of the cabin for the fuel shaft, and Star the other. Each of them opened and shut drawers and pushed or pulled anything movable in an all-out search for the lead-in chamber. “Don’t worry about looking on either of the other ships,” Bach said. “Rule ’em out due to distance. Not feasible to operate from there.”

Star sat on the wraparound bench in the cockpit and slowly moved her eyes across cabinet facades, floor gratings, and ceiling panels. She noticed her father’s black marble nameplate attached to the wall near the mid-ship galley. There was no logical reason for him to put it on the ship. She went to the plaque and tried pulling it up, but it didn’t move. She sighed, still stroking the golden letters, and looked around the cabin for anything else that could serve as a fuel safe. The side-to-side stroke of her fingertips caused the plaque to give. She pushed down and slid it sideways. “The fuel chamber! Bach! Over here,” she yelled.

“Under the nameplate from his office door? Brilliant!” Bach grabbed the boxes of briquettes he’d set aside and fed them into the shaft.

Now minutes from liftoff, Star headed to the cockpit to close the back ramp. She raised the lever, but the door didn’t budge. “No!” she said, moving the lever up and down.

Bach nosed over her shoulder. “A generator problem. Override the sensor with a hot spark. We weren’t able to test-fire those generators.”

“It’s something more than a generator.” She tried again, but got only an odd crackle from the area around the lever. “What’s wrong? This technology plays off of one of my designs. It’s not possible it would react this way.”

Bach flopped on the bench, tapped icons on a pressure-sensitive pad and rocked a switch. No ignition. He glared with contempt at the renovated spacecraft. “Everything’s scrambled at once.” Scrambled? He jumped up and grabbed Star’s hand. “Hurry!”

“What?”

“The EMOG scrambles instrumentation. Find the EMOG!”

“The EMOG!”

“Altemus must have anticipated enemy intervention and planted it to disable the ship.” Bach bounced around the ship like a pinball, checking the flight deck, the mid-ship alcoves with wall hammocks, and the two safety rooms. He and Star searched every possible option one-by-one, but didn’t find the EMOG. Growing anxious, Bach’s breath came in short spurts. He shoved the hair back from his forehead and pivoted in a circle. “Where would he have put it? Think!” He paced, babbled, and walked past the aft storage hold a half-dozen times, touching everything more than once. “It’s U-shaped,” he said. “If I were Altemus where would I hide a U-shaped device?”

“Near something relating to a u,” she said logically.

“Good answer. But what relates to a u?”

After they’d looked at every lettered object around the ship, Star said, “I didn’t find anything.” An instant later, she noticed the Up and Down lettering on the panel around the controller to the back ramp. She snapped the clamps from the fascia and lifted it off. Inside, the EMOG generated its deadly power.

“Bach, here! Under the ramp’s controller.”

He rushed aft for the mysterious little box and grabbed it so fast he knocked it to the floor along with the Bible. A slip of paper fell from the Bible. He scooped it all up and loped back to the bench. “That’s what this strange purple box is for,” he said with a full-throttle expression of joy. “Altemus did it! He finished his special project! He told me he was trying to develop a compact container for the EMOG so he could carry it easily, but I never expected anything so small. How did he find time?” Clutching the weighty box, Bach’s emotions turned fragile. “It’s part of his legacy. He’s smiling somewhere, knowing his dreams and life’s work will pay off. Oh, I wish he were here to see Alpha rising.”

Silence reflected Star’s sorrow. She held the paper that fell from the Bible and first read it to herself, then aloud. “‘I have one EMOG, you have the other. Use it wisely for lakes that deceive, and enemies who don’t believe. Godspeed.’ -Altemus.”

Bach gulped, “The other? He made the second EMOG?”

She looked at him, not really seeing. “That’s what brought down the enemy ship.”

“He spared himself further suffering at the enemy’s hands, and made the ultimate sacrifice.”

She choked back tears. “I was trying to find a cure for his illness. I needed more time.”

“He didn’t die in vain.” Bach clutched the Bible to his chest, and could barely speak. “Star, I have to rescue my fiancée and my crewmates.” He waited for a moment until the lump cleared from his throat. “Is there a way we can rescue them with this ship? Do you think they’re still alive?”

“I believe they’re alive. The enemy will use them as a means of controlling you.”

Bach moved to the cockpit, wiping something from his eyes.

Star secured the Bible in a holding bin, but kept her father’s note in her hands. Sitting alongside Bach, she silently read the note again then pressed the paper between her palms. “Does Godspeed mean anything to you?”

“It acknowledges our Creator, God, and asks him to grant a prosperous and safe journey.” He fired up the engines.

She closed the ramp. “Godspeed.”

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY

Bach launched the big, three-piece Kingship and entered clear space above the dark dust cloud surrounding planet Jenesis. Relieved to be on his way, he didn’t anticipate trouble. But warning alarms sounded and onboard intelligence showed enemy spacecrafts closing in from three directions. “Damn! Rooks in pursuit. Three of ’em,” he called out.

Star readied defense systems and computerized the approaching ships’ speeds. “Alter course to number three configuration. Five seconds ’till they surround.”

Bach increased fuel burn, and a pre-programmed maneuver moved the big ship out of the line of attack. “Escaped ’em for the moment.” The image on his viewscreen showed the enemy ships surrounding nothing.

The Rooks adjusted their pattern and aligned three abreast. “Regrouped. Comin’ full-on like a wall,” he said.

She tapped on a keyboard. “Let them follow until we break the gravitational pull, then lead them on a chase to nowhere. Solid fuel’s four times more powerful than their liquid. They’ll burn out before we do.”

“Not if they shoot us down first.”

“They’d want us alive. If Dad’s gone, we’re the ones likely to know the fuel secret. They’d also want to inspect this ship’s technology. They’ll try to force us down or damage us.”

Bach’s jaw flexed. “We can’t waste fuel. Supply’s limited.”

“I don’t know much about this mission,” Star said. “But we’ll make adjustments later.”

“I won’t burn extra fuel on a chase, but….” He thrust the ship full throttle and, in the process, pinned himself and Star to the wraparound cockpit bench. Once beyond Jenesis’s gravitational pull, he cut back on power and, tense but satisfied, said, “See ya, Rooks.”

“For now,” she said.

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Bach piloted Alpha through the zone while Star studied the flight plan to familiarize herself with the mission’s sequence.

In anticipation of a long trip to the first planet, Bach put the ship on auto, got up and stretched his legs, and looked out an observation port. “Boy, those daystars sure light up the place. Space is a beautiful island of calm after living under that dark cloud and the enemy’s torment.” Just then, the ship passed through a domain of total darkness and emerged in a nebula of pure electric green. He hooted at the vaporous phenomenon. “Whooo, beautiful!”

“It’s normal here,” she replied.

“Like something from a fairy tale.”

She glanced up from reading the itinerary. “This is a big undertaking, Bach. How long will we be gone?”

He sat beside her. “Seventeen days. Using the co-op crews’ route maps and landing sites will make navigating and landing easy, but finding the two inhabitants with the symbol may take time.”

“Two inhabitants with a symbol?”

“I haven’t filled you in yet. I’m sorry.” He touched her two necklaces. “We’ll find two people on each planet with a symbol of hope. A crossed circle … the chosen ones.”

She lifted her necklaces and stared at them. “Chosen ones?”

“The Creator said we’ll recognize them by that symbol, and they’ll accept our invitation to board the ship.” While Star digested Bach’s comments, he added, “They’ll stay in the AstroLab. We’ve built climate-controlled chambers that simulate the various planets’ environmental conditions. Altemus and I call it the environmental module, or E-module.”

“An E-module? Sounds interesting.”

“Your genius father designed it. Over time, he had Reno and Elan bring in additional supplies when they made their co-op runs to the other planets. Then he, and robots way smarter than I, utilized those, as well as leftover resources from the space station.”

“Why did you keep the big space station attached?”

“For transporting animals. We’re bringing them back too.”

“Animals?” Star hesitated, in deep thought, then released the lock on the passageway from the Wizard through the space station to the AstroLab. “I’m going to check out the other two ships,” she announced. “I need to know where everything is and what’s aboard.”

“You’re gonna love the stuff on both of them,” Bach said.

Star cut through the space station to the E-module. Inside was a small common area bordered by numerous doors leading to climate-controlled chambers. She opened the first door and stepped into a small living area where a dozen live green plants grew from a floor of soil. Berries grew on two plants, vegetables on others, and on one small shrub, violet flowers bloomed. She touched the leaves and pressed her nose to the flowers to get the full effect of their delightful fragrance. No one heard when she whispered in a voice filled with wonder, “This is the first time in my life I’ve seen real plants and flowers growing, not simulated on a computer screen.” She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh, clean air. “I could stay here forever.” The tactile, fragrant wonderland permeated every pore as she moved on to the next chamber. There, warm, dry air wrapped around her soft skin as she walked across the sandy floor to a knee-deep pool of water in one corner.

Star explored the environments one-by-one, delighting in each discovery along the way. A small circular door leading into one chamber intrigued her so she hunched down and stepped through the portal. Her entrance into an icy-cold igloo came with a gasp at the unexpected contact with freezing air. She would long remember this crystalline room where ice crystals tingled her hands, cold air filled her lungs, and her breath became visible and frosty. “Magical,” she murmured.

In the environmental pod’s hydroponic garden, aromas of ripe fruits and vegetables growing in their watery troughs exuded a rich bouquet that immediately captured her attention. She licked her lips. “I can taste this food on my tongue just by the smell.”

Bach’s voice came through the intercom. “You okay over there?”

“I’m in awe,” she shouted. “I love it!”

When she finished exploring the E-module, instead of using the crossover passageway leading back to the Wizard where Bach was, Star entered the renovated space station which now served as a replicated wildlife paradise with trees, caves, a pond, a frozen plain, small pens and corrals, and a water-filled chamber running the circumference. She couldn’t help but talk to herself. “We can transport animals from all the planets. This is like a wondrous dream and I don’t want to wake up.” Spellbound, she strolled through the symbiotic phenomenon, smelling and touching the natural wonders of verdant foliage, turquoise blue waters, and natural colors long lost to Jenesis. “Incredible!”

Then she heard a faint sound, like the cry of a small animal. She followed it to a greenery-filled nook where a wire enclosure nestled among the plants. Two furry faces peered out from their roomy home on wheels. She bent down for a better look. “My babies!” She pulled the cage onto the walkway. “Why did your grandpa put you aboard?” Talking to the wurrs, she rolled the cage all the way back to the cockpit. “Bach,” she said, her voice questioning. “I found Lotus and Arro in the animals’ module. Why would Dad have put them aboard?”

“I don’t know.” He scratched Lotus under the chin through the wires. “He knew you’d be gone.” The cat-like wurr made a snoring sound and marched in place with its front paws. The soft kneading of her paws crinkled a piece of paper resting on the grass in the bottom of the cage. Bach talked to the wurr. “What did you bring, Lotus?” He pulled the paper from between the wires and unfolded it. “An A to Z roster?”

Star scrutinized it with a shrug. “Hmmm. Your name’s beside the B and mine’s next to the S.”

He looked it over again. “A blank list your father hid from the Rooks?”

“We’ll figure it out as we go.” She touched her pets through the cage wires as she headed back to the passageway and returned them to their exciting new habitat.

When Star got back to the cockpit, Bach said, “Okay, Alphamate, buckle down, we’re nearing our first stop.”

“Alphamate?” She smiled. “I like it.” She glanced at the computer data. “En Gedi, dead ahead. I can’t wait to see the different planets. Nova’s told me many stories, and I’d love to explore. Do you think we can?”

“Averaged out between ten planets, seventeen days doesn’t leave much time. Like one of my favorite old Ravens’ tunes says, ‘Time … will turn you hard as stone.’”

“Hard as stone? That’s strange. Sing it.”

Bach cleared his throat and sang with gusto. “‘Time … will turn you hard as stone. Without mercy it won’t leave you alone. Don’t count the days, and don’t waste time sleeping, the life in your soul is not yours for the keeping.’” He chuckled. “I gladly confess that I’ve advanced from those days.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded. “And perhaps it sounded a little different when your Ravens performed it.”

“Yeah, better,” he said, smiling. “They weren’t off key.”

“What does ‘the life in your soul is not yours for the keeping’ mean?”

“That’s up for interpretation. I believe it has to do with when you die. A lot of Ravens’ stuff didn’t make sense, but their music was my favorite for years.”

“Nova once talked of the spider musicians on planet Troas.”

Bach snickered. “Ravens, Spiders. Musicians always choose strange names. Maybe we’ll get to hear them perform.”

“I have a question on something else,” Star said. “Once we locate those with the symbol, and all the animals, what happens when we get back to Jenesis?”

“Don’t know. There was no instruction for when we get back. I think we’ll bring in more people to strengthen our population and benefit from the talents of those individuals. And logically, certain animals will be for food. We’ll protect others for reproduction to ensure survival of their species.”

“But we’ll be gone for seventeen days; won’t there be confusion in Dura when we’re not around during that time? If Wilde believed Dad’s note, he thinks we’re all in Ulwor. He might spark a confrontation between the continents to get us back.” She paused. “What if the Specter appears and tells him that my father is dead?”

“He won’t believe the Specter. And I’m sure Altemus covered it somehow; he and I were both under instruction from the Creator.” Bach looked from the window and enlarged the image of planet En Gedi on his viewscreen. He handed Star the travel log containing information from Griffon and Nova’s co-op trips and began descent.

She read, “‘En Gedi, a remote basin 200 miles long and 20 miles wide, our source of minerals, was once home to advanced civilizations and thriving cities on six continents. Over time, one continent overtook another, and a thirst for dominance sparked a series of conflicts among the people that resulted in starvation, disease, and unendurable toxins. Annihilation of the species was complete, except for a nomadic group in an area called Anoz.’”

“How long ago was that?”

“Four generations.”

“So we have to find that small, isolated group?”

She read more, “‘The people of Anoz developed an area of their homeland into bountiful orchards and crop fields. Eventual discovery by the Ultimate World led to experimentation. They altered crops to eliminate seeds, making them more pleasurable to eat. After a devastating drought, Anoz residents were unable to replant native crops because they had no seeds.’”

Bach enlarged the image of planet En Gedi on his viewscreen and focused on a desolate continent. A dismal grid of empty skyscrapers; idle, overgrown highways; burned-out farmlands, and ground hardened from years without rain formed a patchwork of colorless ruins where cities once prospered and civilizations once thrived. The urban skyline resembled simple cardboard and clay architectural renderings, and parched lake beds in outlying areas appeared as targets carved into the ground.

Star read more. “‘Anoz’s civilization has separated into two villages. The people have a unique characteristic—all births produce twins.’”

“Twins?” Bach sighed. “Will the chosen ones be twins?

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Alphamates stepped from the ship onto the parched red clay of a desert-like area. Bach kicked a clump of dried vegetation on a sand dune and studied the surrounding rock-ribbed hills. Deep clefts of gray, white, and tan ran the length of their sides, and a dust bowl gully rested at their feet—a souvenir from a waterfall long since consumed. Across the plain, a far-away village wore a vibrant purple haze like a halo. He pointed it out to Star with a groan. “Looks like a long walk ahead.”

She motioned to the mauve-colored sky. “Something’s coming this way.”

An eagle-like bird approached on massive outstretched wings, circled the Alpha once, then rode a lofty air current while surveying the new arrivals.

Bach looked toward the distant village where a cloud of red dust now rose from the clay. Someone was coming. Soon he could make out four black-haired children, maybe six or seven years old, riding on what looked to him like horses. The kids came up fast and tried to pull to a stop, but their stallions reared in fear. The four shouted foreign commands to their animals and stared from curious eyes.

“They’re afraid of our big ship,” Star said. “They’ve only seen smaller co-op and Rook ships.”

“Do you know their native tongue?” Bach asked. “It might help.”

“I know a little.” She called out to the children in a foreign language.

The youths, twin boys and twin girls, nudged each other and shook their heads.

“They know the co-op crews so I told them I’m Nova’s sister, but it didn’t work.” She smiled, pointed at Bach, and again shouted across the distance.

The children dismounted and moved cautiously forward. Both boys wore animal skin loincloths and moccasins, and the barefooted girls had on colorful, oversized dresses. One boy broke from the group and ran forward carrying something in his dust-covered hand. He pushed it toward Bach.

Bach accepted a pocket-sized wooden toy, then mumbled to Star through nonmoving lips. “Okay genius, what did you say this time?”

“I told them you’re a Rook.”

“What?”

“Shhh … they like Rooks.”

He examined the toy and handed it to Star.

She pondered the carved image, a native female holding a tear-shaped hoop with a star dangling inside. “It’s a storyteller doll. A visual reminder of past events, stories told through symbols.”

One of the girls ran to Star and took her by the hand, then pulled her toward the stallions, running as best she could with her orange sackcloth dress skimming the ground. The other children followed alongside, motioning to Bach to catch up.

The twins doubled-up on two animals, and Star and Bach mounted the other two. The girl in the orange dress put her finger to her lips and whispered to Star.

Star shared a warning with Bach. “Native tradition requires we travel in silence when approaching a village.”

The horses had clopped off a mile of dried red clay and had a mile to go when a chilling breeze stirred from a distant reach of the planet and the colorful sky turned an ominous gray. Bach, Star, and the four children exchanged distressed looks as the new wind rolled in with a howl that sounded like humans moaning. A half-dozen whirling sand devils rose from the parched ground and twisted across the plain with the force of eye- and body-blasting bird shot. The spooked stallions reared and turned in circles as their mounts fought to rein them in.

Coughing, fighting for breath, and sandpapered alive, the six riders barked desperate commands and forced the neighing, frightened animals onward. Visions of tepee-like dwellings appeared then disappeared through the turbulent squalls.

As soon as they reached the village and all had dismounted, the twins pushed the Alphamates into the closest hut, then rushed off. The unoccupied tepee was structured from wooden poles, tree bark, hides, and mud.

Bach parted the tent flap just enough to look out. “Oh, no,” he said. Sand particles gritted between his teeth as he talked. “Those kids disappeared into the thick of the storm.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his hair and clothing.

Star blinked the burn from her eyes and brushed gritty sand from her hair and jumpsuit, taking care not to make dust on the possessions inside. She peered over Bach’s shoulder. “I feel uncomfortable being in someone’s home when they’re not here. What if this storm goes on for a long time?”

“Problem.”

“Let’s hope it clears before dark,” she said.

He shook his head. “All these tepees with symbols and designs. Big search ahead. Maybe we can find those kids again, they might know of our hope symbol, it might be a family sign.”

As suddenly as it began, the roaring assault stopped with startling stillness.

“It’s almost scary,” Star whispered. “Is it safe to go out?”

Bach opened the flap enough to look around. “Dead quiet. Nobody’s out yet, but it’s still light. Let’s go.”

They were about thirty feet out when an enormous native carrying a heavy spear against his shoulder appeared seemingly from nowhere. His open-armholed, buckskin tunic was fastened with a wide, turquoise-studded belt holding what looked like tools and weapons. A silver metal ornament in the shape of a flying bird adorned the center of his beaded headband. The man positioned himself in front of Bach and Star, glaring from eyes so black they appeared to have no pupils. He blocked their path with his crosswise spear. “You!” he shouted. “Violated sacred family threshold. Entered home unwelcomed!”

Bach felt the need to talk with his hands. He motioned to the sky. “The sandstorm.” He held his hand waist high. “Children gave us shelter. We meant no harm. Your possessions are safe.” He showed his open palms. “We didn’t touch anything.”

The native jabbed his spear over Bach’s head and growled, “I cast off violation.” He moved behind the two and pushed them forward with the shaft of his spear.

“Where are you taking us?” Star asked.

“You … wear shaman’s mark of trespass.”

“Shaman’s mark of trespass?” Bach bristled. “We didn’t touch anything. Let us go.”

The huge warrior followed from behind with a stride so heavy the ground seemed to vibrate beneath his feet. They’d passed a dozen totems when the native halted them beside a pole so huge it took a full backward head tilt to see the top. He jammed his spear into the ground, did a series of ritualistic foot movements, then took the weapon and pointed it back and forth at the two while crying out in yelps.

The call summoned a towering shaman from a nearby tepee. He sauntered forward with three torch-toting minions following behind. His authority clearly reflected in his attire: an elaborate white-feathered headdress trailing down his back, and an assortment of white furs padding portions of his burly, tanned body. Bright blue and red feathers hung from woven bands below his knees, and two painted white lines on his face intersected on his nose. The shaman stopped in front of the captives. His eyes moved from their heads to their feet. Several hard stomps of his right foot brought the three assistants scurrying to the forefront.

The assistants, barefooted with buckskins wrapped around their lower bodies, prodded the hostages toward a distant, blackened trench under a framework that looked like a shortened goalpost. Off to one side, smoke poured from a furnace made of rocks.

Bach stopped, dug his feet into the ground, and stiffened his arm in front of Star. “Don’t hurt her. Let her go.”

One of the underlings pulled a club from his waistband, shook it at Bach in a threatening manner and pushed him toward the goalpost. The three natives then worked together to shackle their captives to the crossbar before engaging in a hopping, prancing ritual.

Bach squirmed against the restraints holding him in the blackened trench, but he couldn’t break free. He looked at Star and saw her wrists reddened from struggling to escape the bindings. His eyes darted from the charred bricks below their feet to the torches wielded by the captors, and his mind toyed with the words, “Wear the shaman’s curse.” Heart pounding like a drumbeat, he whispered to Star through heavy breaths, “Sway them with something in their language. Call them off.”

“I’ll try….”

The shaman, angry at his captives’ break of silence, let out a yelp and lumbered toward the goalpost, black eyes flashing. He confronted Bach face to face and pressed so close to him their chests touched. His mouth opened wide, and foul-smelling saliva sprayed across Bach’s face and head when the native shouted, “My curse will possess you for violating a sacred trust.”

Shuddering from the repulsive stench, Bach contorted his upper lip to seal off his nostrils and turned his head. He answered in a pinched voice, “We sought refuge from the sandstorm.”

The shaman stepped back and glanced toward the furnace where large andirons held two branding irons. Their circular end pieces, divided by two lines—one vertical, one horizontal—had stoked to a fiery orange-red. Can it be? Bach wondered. A symbol right there in my sight? No, it can’t be a symbol of hope. That one looks dangerous and they called it a mark of trespass. He looked at the shaman and nodded toward the fire. “I see your crossed circle….”

The shaman cut him off. “The four segments represent war, famine, pestilence, and death, which I now eliminate from your spirit.”

As fingers of flame rose from the popping, crackling furnace, Bach grew desperate. Bathed in perspiration, face flushed, he asked, “Do you worship the Creator?”

The shaman had yet to answer when a moving shadow darkened the ground, casting a pall on the ritual. The warriors’ built-up energy waned as they looked to the sky. The eagle-like bird’s twenty-foot wingspan shadowed the arena, and its flight stirred the dusty clay. In a sudden move, the bird dove straight at the shaman, forcing him to the ground. Splayed on his back like a string puppet, the leader waited for the bird to retreat, then staggered to his feet and poked his spear toward the sky. “Wisdom has signaled her disapproval. Curse and mark of trespass revoked.” He summoned the minions and nodded toward Bach and Star. “Release them.”

The captives were freed, and Star started to thank the shaman, but Bach slid his arm around her waist and pushed her forward. “Shhh … get going.” As the two race-walked toward the tepees Bach noticed the bird in the distant sky. “Wisdom,” he whispered, “thank you for your wisdom.” He glanced back at the shaman. “I’d be a little worried if he were a chosen one.”

“Just a little,” she said, grimacing.

*****

Bach and Star walked among the tepees as the village natives hustled to repair their sandstorm-damaged dwellings. After searching for several hours without finding a symbol they decided to skirt the camp’s outer rim. There, by luck, they met up with the same four children. The little girl in the orange dress ran to them, threw her dust-caked arms around Star’s legs, and looked up with huge dark eyes. Star stroked the girl’s long black hair and talked to her in the native tongue. The child shook her head. “She doesn’t know anyone with our symbol,” Star said to Bach.

He sighed. “If we have to explore inside the tepees, it’s gonna take some doing.”

The girl pointed to the sky where Wisdom approached on a direct path over their heads. The bird circled once, then swooped low, forcing Bach, Star, and the children to the ground. They followed her flight with their eyes—west, returning, west again, then returning to land a few feet away. One golden eye focused on the six as if communicating, then the bird lifted off with a rush of wind, leaving behind an imprint in the sand that looked like the symbol.

Star gathered the four kids together. They spoke, then hugged, and the children ran off, returning minutes later with two unsaddled horses. The Alphamates mounted up and followed Wisdom’s westward flight across the dust bowl of gullies and sagebrush-covered mesas. A second village slowly became visible under a violet haze that deepened to magenta as it fanned across the sky.

As Bach and Star neared, two native men in loincloths and headdresses approached on stallions. The scouts spoke with Star in their native tongue, then escorted the visitors to the village and left them in a communal area.

In this village, Bach noticed that the tepees’ doors opened to the east to welcome the daystar’s first light. And one ornately decorated hut, twice the size of the others and bordered on three sides by a ten-foot high clay wall, seemed a shelter for a high authority.

The Alphamates strolled among the people and decorated tepees as the daystar’s light began to fade. “Sure hope Wisdom knew what she was doing when she led us here,” Bach said, “But this village seems much like the first … lots of symbolism … not the one we need.”

“Maybe it’s small, hard to see. Did the Creator say the person would have it on them?”

“He said they’d have the symbol but wouldn’t know it.”

“I’ll pay more attention to each person.”

The two were taken by surprise when a heavy drumbeat in the distance resonated through the village and the door flap on the lavishly decorated tepee parted. A man emerged wearing a tunic of animal furs, held by a belt of red stones. Black feathers ran from his headdress down his back. He carried a club with a smoking pot hanging from the end as he walked to a large elevated throne constructed from rocks. About fifty male tribesmen gathered before him as the village women returned to the tepees. The chief waved his arm toward the crowd and swung the smoke pot back and forth. The drumbeat ceased and the clan began a rhythmic dirge while their leader sat on the throne and lit a long-stemmed pipe using embers from the pot. He smoked his fill then passed the pipe into the crowd.

Star and Bach blended in with a row of totem poles and watched the pipe-passing ritual with interest. After all the men had smoked and bowed to their leader, a gong clanged three times and they retreated to their tents.

The Alphamates moved on without finding a symbol. As they walked among the tepees, Star whispered, “I haven’t seen any children at this village. The little girl in the first village told me that she and her twin sister, and her twin brothers, were the only children there, and others were missing.”

“Missing? Was she teasing you?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll look into it when we get back to Dura.”

A rustling sound at the Alphmates’ backs caused both to turn around. A golden-skinned man stepped from a tent with his mate—a young beauty with dark, kohl-adorned eyes and braided, waist-length hair. Alongside the couple’s tent was a wooden platform with a T-shaped perch. The man rapped on the perch with a long flute carved to look like a bird, then scanned the horizon’s darkening sky. He yodeled, then blew into the flute. The long notes rippled through the crisp evening air.

Wisdom approached from the distance.

The woman stepped inside the tepee and returned with two clay bowls. She bowed her head in what looked like prayer then raised the bowls upward and watched until the bird flew to the perch. When she set the bowls on the platform, Wisdom ate and drank as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

Bach leaned close to Star, and said, “They’re the only ones out. Let’s talk to them.” They approached the tepee, but before they got there, the natives ducked inside. “I’ll catch them,” he said.

“What if we make another mistake and get into trouble?”

“It’s getting dark. We have to keep trying.” He moved alongside the open door flap and called into the tent softly, “Uh … uh … hello?” Noises came from inside.

Star moved to his side. “I’ll try in their native language.” She uttered several words and the man came out.

“I speak the common language,” he said.

“Forgive us,” Bach said, stepping back. “Darkness is near.” He grasped Star’s eternity circle pendant in his hand and displayed it with the cross pendant aligned over the top. “We’ve traveled far in search of something that looks like the two of these placed together … a crossed circle.”

The native stared at the icon.

Bach pointed to the bird eating on the platform. “Wisdom led us.”

Without words, the man turned back to his tepee.

Bach huffed in frustration.

The native stepped from his tepee with his mate and pulled down the door flap to reveal the crossed-circle symbol painted in gold. At the same time, Wisdom’s mighty wings stirred the air in ascent. The native bowed and waved toward the departing bird. “She’s been gone,” he said. “She returned tonight for a reason. We know the Creator’s spirit moved her, but know nothing more.”

Star spoke up. “We’re carrying out the Creator’s plan.” She introduced herself and Bach and explained the mission.

The man nodded. “My name is Urich. My mate is Rain. We’ve felt in our souls something important to come. We are ready.” He motioned for Bach to follow him to a corral. “The beasts you’re riding must be returned to their rightful owners. We will ride singly to the first village, deposit their animals, then double-up.” Urich selected two stallions, one black, one white.

The four approached the first village in silence. Urich and Rain pulled alongside Star and Bach and signaled for them to dismount. As the horses sauntered toward their village, Star mounted up behind Urich, and Bach behind Rain.

Leaving the village, they were no longer under the restriction of silence. Rain leaned back enough for Bach to hear. “Our symbol represents the four stages of life: birth, discovery, knowledge, and authority. Urich and I have entered the third stage,” her full lips turned up with a smile as she continued, “when knowledge is adequate for the next generation and the pre-selected mate becomes one’s life’s partner.”

“Your mate is pre-selected?”

“To the future benefit of our tribe,” she replied.

As they neared the ship, the last light from the daystar faded and Bach let out a little yelp, “What’s going on?”

High on Alpha’s framework, outlined by the ship’s running lights, stood Wisdom and her mate, guarding a collection of En Gedi’s animals gathered outside the ship.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “I forgot that we were supposed to bring animals.”

Urich nodded knowingly. “Wisdom has completed her work. This is why she left to travel far. I did not understand why she was gone longer than ever before. She was herding the animals.”

When they reached the ship, the four dismounted and Urich led his stallion forward. “Board the stallions first. The rest of En Gedi’s animals will follow,” he said. “The bird and her mate will enter last. They will have the final look around.”

*****

With Rain and Urich settled in the environmental module and the animals secured, Bach fired Alpha’s thrusters and departed En Gedi. Star added Urich’s and Rain’s names to the roster.

All of a sudden, radar clangged a jarring warning and three blips showed up on the screen.

Bach grumbled. “Rooks are back! Caught us in the dark. Whoa! Movin’ along fast … comin’ from all directions.”

Star initialized defense systems. “Sound alarm in passengers’ module and engage stabilizers for animals.”

“Secure.” Bach checked the viewscreen image. The Rooks’ ships were so close he thought he saw the lights in their cockpits. “Star!”

“Increase fuel burn,” she instructed.

“Fuel burn increased.”

She tapped on the touchpad. “Hold on!”

Alpha rocketed through space, blowing off the enemy as if their ships were paper airplanes.

Bach gloated. “I love this technology.”

“We burned a lot of fuel,” she stated. “But gained time.”

He looked out the window at a tiny planet in the distance. “We’ve got light from another daystar for our next stop. What does the journal say?”

Star read, “‘Gihon, the smallest planet in the Balal zone, has a variety of trees with nourishing, edible leaves, and plants with flavored roots. Gihon’s inhabitants’ keen senses foresee with clarity events having not yet occurred, and they have the ability, at times, to communicate by thought alone. Highly prized is a natural fountain of intoxicating, aquamarine water.’”

Bach’s grin turned impish. “Oh, no. Maybe we should save Gihon for last. If we get into the sparkling water….”

She squinted her eyes. “You will not drink any.”

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The clear blue skies over Gihon mesmerized Bach on approach. Flickering remnants of exploded meteorites twinkling in the daylight seemed close enough for him to reach out and touch, and a misty green arc, like a monochrome rainbow, spanned the area directly over the landing pad.

Bach and Star stepped from the ship, and a dozen short statured inhabitants, wearing colorful clothing and sporting big smiles, greeted them enthusiastically. Two little people grabbed the Alphamates by the hands and pulled them along toward their village, running as fast as their short legs could go.

“Hey, take it easy, we just got here,” Bach said, chuckling. “What’s the hurry?” The little people seemed not to hear. “Star, talk to them,” he pled.

“They speak the common language,” she said, keeping pace. “But they’re used to communicating without words; they forget we can’t do that.” She looked down at a man in green coveralls clinging to her right arm. His head came to her shoulders. “Why are we rushing?”

“We knew someone special was coming … knew it.” His words rolled out with glee. “We’ve a celebration in progress. Many thrills, many thrills. Lots of fun, sparkling water, lots of fun.”

Star asked the little man a question, already knowing the answer. “Did you drink sparkling water?”

His steps faltered and he stared up at her. “My dear, a required ritual—every day—to keep the mean spirits away—every day.”

A little lady in a diaphanous pink robe fluttering in the breeze yanked on Star’s other hand, and in a voice as delicate as the ring of a porcelain bell echoed her mate’s words. “To keep the mean spirits away, everyday … everyday.”

Another man decked out in shimmering red overalls ran alongside. Struggling to keep up, he managed to say, “We’ve been working, working very hard. We’ve been planning, planning for this day. We knew someone was coming. Knew it.”

“How did you know?” Bach asked.

“We have the gift!” the man snapped, as if Bach should have known. “Everyone has a gift. Foresight’s our gift. We’re special!”

“We’re special, special. It’s a gift, a gift,” gushed the lady in the pink robe.

#

The entourage of short statured people disbursed as soon as they reached the township, leaving Bach and Star in the midst of what appeared a mystical celebration. Businesses along the town’s narrow main street had closed for the day so pedestrians could mingle and browse two-foot high tables set up along the curbs. Dozens of Gihon’s merchants, some of whom had colorful birds perched on their shoulders and heads like hood ornaments, hawked their wares to the bustling crowd.

At first, Bach and Star stood off to one side, trying to take it all in and decide where best to start their search. Table after table featured intriguing bibelots, decks of cards, clear and colored crystal balls, sparkling and opaque amulets in every shape and size, and baubles decorated with suns, moons, and stars.

Bach looked around grumbling, “This won’t be easy.”

Stepping into the crowd, the two were distracted from their symbol search in a matter of minutes. Bach stopped at one table to check out a myriad of dazzling trinkets, while Star headed to a red-haired lady’s display. The lady straightened the items on her table and pretended not to notice Star examining a large flat rock with a mirror in the center and a marble-sized red ball free-floating above it. She spoke to Star without looking up. “I can tell you’re too smart to believe it’s magic.”

Star grinned and nodded. “It’s a clever example of magnetic resistance.”

The woman held out her hand and offered Star a dime-sized piece of white candy. Star took it, but didn’t put in her mouth. The lady put a piece into her own mouth and focused on Star’s face. “Watch closely.” She chomped down hard on the candy with her back teeth and kept her mouth open as much as possible. A spray of blue sparks shot from her mouth.

Star laughed out loud. “Triboluminescence.” She bit down on her piece of candy and looked into the rock mirror to get the full sparkling effect.

“Sugars from the green root,” the red-haired lady offered. Her green eyes seemed to laugh.

The two chatted as if they’d known each other all their lives, sharing information about their respective planets. Suddenly, the lady grabbed Star’s hands and stared at something as if she were the only one who could see it. “The Specter will wreak havoc with a chosen few. His presence hovers in the air … hovers.”

The urgency delivered in the vendor’s words turned Star back to the mission. She thanked the lady for her insight and headed off to catch up with Bach. He wasn’t close by, so she searched both sides of the street. Unable to find him, she called out his name. When he didn’t answer, she called again, louder, but her voice blended into the street noise. She hurried from table to table in the bustling crowd, but he was nowhere around. The staircase of a nearby building seemed a perfect lookout point, so she climbed to the landing for a panoramic view of the area. Her partner was gone. “I couldn’t have lost him just like that!” she said to herself in near panic. “And he’s so much taller, I should find him easily.”

Merging back into the crowd, she started at one end of the street and stepped up her pace as she neared the other end. After briefly searching through all the displays, she stopped at the last merchant’s table and looked ahead to where the paved road ended and a grassy trail led through woodlands beyond. “Have you seen a tall man with brown hair, dressed in a silver jumpsuit?” she asked.

The vendor had treasure maps of paper and cloth in all shapes and sizes on display. He turned away without a word and searched through dozens of long cardboard tubes standing on end in a bin. Eventually, he found the tube he was looking for. He lifted it from the bin, stuck his fingers into the open end and removed a colorful piece of cloth. He set it on the table in front of Star and, as if handling priceless artwork, carefully unwound the fabric to reveal an imprinted map.

She touched the fabric. “Searching for treasure is fascinating, but I don’t have time. I’ve lost my crewmate.”

Eyes twinkling, the man pointed to a spot on the map. “Your crewmate is the treasure here,” he said, referencing an x inside of a circle.

“My crewmate is there?” she asked.

“X marks the spot,” the little man replied with a chuckle.

Star looked at the x in the circle, then glanced around to get her bearings.

The man pushed the map into her hands and pointed toward the woodlands. “That way … beyond where the dirt trail ends.”

Star entered the hardwood forest and found the abundance of shade trees and flowering plants made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. As she walked deeper through the lush foliage and flowering shrubs, the air turned fresher, but the surroundings looked the same and there were no landmarks, so she stopped to check the map. From deeper within the cool, quiet forest came a hum, a soothing hum, like the joyous whispers of people in love. Following the sound she headed left, past a thicket of white, pear-scented flowers. The soft sighs grew louder and delicate strains of woodwind instruments blended in. She passed under an archway of purple flowers that towered high above her head, and came to a well-worn path. It wound left, then right, and after twenty yards ended near a dense, ten-foot-high growth of lacy green leaves the size of dinner plates. Music came from the other side. She looked at the map. Beyond the foliage was the spot marked by the x. With the map tucked inside her jumpsuit, she parted the foliage just enough to see.

In an arena-sized clearing bordered by flowering plants and shrubs, two-dozen little people, some playing instruments, sang and danced with glee around an erratically erupting fountain of aquamarine water. “The sparkling water!” Star watched in amusement as each six-foot-high burst of tingling bubbly water sent the little people into giggling, splashing fits. She would have stayed to watch, but there was no time to spare. She had to find Bach and, x or no x, this wasn’t the spot.

As she turned to leave, a small voice called out, “Don’t go. Don’t go.” A little woman with flaxen hair bound by a red gypsy scarf had spotted Star’s face among the leaves. She scurried over, poked a cup of aquamarine water into her hand, and chirped in a tiny voice, “Drink, drink,” before flitting back to the boisterous group.

No one noticed when Star set the cup on the ground without drinking. But Star noticed Bach on the opposite side of the circle, sprawled like a corpse near the shrubbery. She stepped out from the leafy hedge and worked her way around the clearing’s perimeter. An empty cup lay at his side and a peaceful look graced his face. She knelt and grasped his limp hand. “Bach!” she whispered. “I don’t believe it … you drank too much. Why did you do this?”

A lady with pink flowers in her hair danced by and sang, “He celebrated with us. See, he’s happy, he’s happy.”

Star took hold of the lady’s skirt and pulled her to a stop. “Where can I get a firefruit? Is there fruit from a co-op trip? I need a firefruit.”

The little lady’s words were a song. “No firefruits allowed. Bad manners. No firefruits allowed.”

“I have to wake him. We’re short on time.”

The lady sang on and danced around with two others who joined in the singing. “No firefruits at celebrations.”

Star tapped on Bach’s face, looking for a sign of consciousness. “Bach, please wake up.”

His nose twitched.

“Bach?” He didn’t move again, so she tapped his face a second time.

This time, his eyes opened to slits and he whispered through barely parted lips, “Get me out of here.”

Star stood and looked around, barely speaking. “Don’t move. I’ll think of something. You can’t be disrespectful.” The three dancing ladies looked on. The one with pink flowers in her hair blew a kiss toward Bach. It gave Star an idea. She motioned the ladies closer. “I know about the special gifts of Gihon’s people,” she said, “and the handsome alien won’t even need a firefruit if each of you gives him a magical kiss. People from Earth respond to affection. The more kisses he gets, the more powerful the treatment.”

An involuntary grunt came from Bach’s throat.

“See? Just the thought makes his body react in anticipation.”

The giggling ladies pressed closer. One pushed Star forward. “You go first.”

Then the other two chimed in, “You go first.”

Star’s heart said one thing, her lips another. “Oh, no, I can’t kiss him. It has to be someone from Gihon. Your people have the gift.”

With their tiny hands cupped over their mouths, twittering, snuffing, and squinching their eyes closed, the ladies tiptoed to Bach’s side and moved in to deliver the wake up call.

He held back a smile and played his part convincingly as, one-by-one, the women knelt, planted a peck on his warm lips, then dashed away squealing in delight. As Star predicted, he awoke. By now the festivities had stopped and everyone was watching. Bach stood and dusted himself off, flashed a dazzling smile, and saluted as he backed from the circle with Star at his side.

As the two hurriedly left, Star shifted her eyes in Bach’s direction. “How did you end up here?”

“At the last table on the street, the guy had a treasure map with a perfect symbol marking this location. I wondered if he might be the chosen one, but he said the site was just beyond the trees … showed me how to get here. When I entered the circle of big leaves, everyone surrounded me and a man shoved a glass of sparkling water into my hand. They said it’s an insult to refuse and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I took a sip, just one, and dropped to the ground as they cheered.” He sighed. “I realized fakin’ it was the best thing to do.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, “but I was sure worried when I couldn’t find you. From now on we’re staying together.”

#

On the crowded street they were again caught up in the mystical fair.

Star wanted to return to the table of a merchant she had spoken with while searching for Bach. “He has many intriguing items,” she said.

The short statured merchant’s long gray beard reached to his knees, and stars and a moon decorated his flowing black clothing. His undersized table held dozens of clear and colored crystal balls. Bach saw one he liked, but the vendor was busy helping another customer, so he lifted the ball from its golden tripod without asking.

He caressed and turned the smooth, cool orb in his hands, hoping to see something, but was quickly disappointed. “Dud,” he said with a headshake.

The little man in black looked at him and scoffed, “Jenesis man will see nothing but his hand.”

Still engrossed in trying to get the crystal ball to reveal something, Bach paid no attention.

The merchant rolled his eyes, shook his head in annoyance, and lifted the orb from Bach’s hands. He used the end of his beard to clean fingerprints from it, then gingerly set it back on the tripod. He motioned for Bach to crouch to eye level, then leaned forward on his short arms and looked into Bach’s eyes. “Only your hand will you see if you pick it up.” He waved his arm over the sphere and awaited Bach’s reaction. “Now look.”

Bach faced the globe straight on, not about to touch it again. A streak of gray smoke shot around the ball’s inner circumference. Then twisting white streams, like small tornadoes, pressed against the glass as if trying to escape. The globe shuddered from increased internal pressure and the tripod skipped across the table with the chattering sound of glass bouncing on metal.

The merchant steadied the ball, and the cloud inside morphed into dozens of colorful shapes transforming from large to small and back again, like a dazzling laser light show. Seconds later, the vivid display collapsed into an internal black hole, leaving behind a torrent of shooting stars.

“Wow, a meteor shower,” Bach said aloud.

“Take heed. A meteor shower,” the merchant replied.

“Take heed?”

The man looked at the sky. “Souls of the sinless returning to the Creator.”

“Souls of the sinless?” Bach mused out loud. “Who’s sinless?”

The merchant put his hands on his hips and stared at Bach. “Children.”

Bach nodded, but then he recalled something similar his mother used to say. “I’ve always heard that shooting stars were souls of the faithful returning to heaven.”

The little man’s faraway stare seemed unending.

Star softly said, “The hereafter awaits both children and the faithful.”

#

Bach and Star continued their search, but soon both grew weary. He sighed and led her toward the building with the staircase. “Let’s take a break.”

As they neared the stairs, she pulled him to a stop. “Do you feel that?” she asked.

“What?”

“Like something pulling you back?”

“No.”

She looked around for the source of the sensation and headed to a nearby display. Her eyes went straight to a translucent pink gemstone the size of a doorknob. Compelled to touch it, she lifted it gently, with cupped hands. “Warm, yet soft and fluid—like liquid velvet,” she commented.

“It senses emotion,” the vendor said. “You are troubled.”

“That’s right.” Star placed the stone back on the table. “We’re behind schedule.”

Bach nodded politely to the vendor, then took Star by the hand and pointed toward the staircase. “Let’s take that break.” He plopped on a step with a pathetic moan, jabbed his elbows on his knees, and held his head in his hands. “If we don’t find the symbol soon, I’m going back for that crystal ball. Maybe it’ll tell us where the chosen ones are.”

Star closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Maybe we should try our powers of concentration. Wouldn’t it be great if that worked for us as it does the residents?”

“Maybe we should drink a whole cup of sparkling water.”

She laughed. “So you want more kisses, huh?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. First kisses I’ve had in a long time, and my lips were numb.”

Her laugh stopped short. She stepped higher on the stairs to get a better look. Several yards down the sidewalk, two giddy little people danced and turned in circles, their golden tunics fanning out around them. The handsome man’s soft brown hair blew straight back, accentuating a broad smile on his face, and the beautiful woman’s long, dark hair spread two feet in all directions as she circled repeatedly, then stopped in dizzy delight. The two noticed Star watching. The lady waved, then pulled her mate toward the stairs. When they reached the Alphamates, the little lady’s feet never stopped moving from excitement and her brown eyes sparkled like her golden earrings. She shoved a hollowed-out obelisk, about six-inches long, into Star’s hand. “See here, see here. We’ve been working so hard. We’ve done it, we’ve done it.”

Star examined the tapered, four-sided crystal, then peered through it. “Amazing. I can see all the way to our ship. You’ve made a telescope. I can’t tell what magnification, but it’s exceptionally powerful for one so small.”

The lady beamed at her mate. “Obbo made it.”

He slid his arm around her waist. “Ivy helped.”

“Flawless craftsmanship.” Star scanned the crowd through the telescope. “I’d like to have one of these.” She passed it to Bach. “Do you have another?”

Obbo shook his head. “Made two, but only one works.” He rummaged around in his pocket. “But made something more, something better. Now look.” He poked a round object into Bach’s hand.

Bach put the object to his eye.

The little man snatched the object away and fastened it to end of the obelisk, then shoved it back to Bach and waited.

Bach peered through the telescope and turned in a full circle. “Wow. It’s a four-way viewer—objects displayed in four graduated sizes.” Then he realized the round end piece had two intersecting lines. The symbol. He placed his hand on Obbo’s shoulder. “Obbo. You and Ivy are the ones we’re looking for.”

Before Obbo answered, Ivy grabbed the obelisk and focused on something in the distance. A second later she cried out, “Oh see! Oh see! Bad winds coming.”

Obbo took the scope from Ivy and scanned the sky. “Bad winds coming. Hurry, hurry! Must be safe.”

“Bad winds?” asked Bach.

Obbo thrust the obelisk to Bach, who looked in the direction of the bad winds. To his horror, he learned that bad winds were a half-dozen rampaging tornadoes swirling toward them like rolling death.

The street vendors, forewarned by visions, scurried about packing up their wares. Bach had no need to relay the Creator’s mission to Ivy and Obbo—they understood. As the foursome pushed and shoved among panicked throngs, an eddy of icy air whirled dirt and debris down the street, wrapping the town in a veil of darkness. Parrots and other birds scattered in fear of the bitter winds. Two of the smaller parrots alighted on Ivy and Obbo.

Star held Ivy’s hand as they ran toward the Alpha. She noticed the birds and shouted through blasts of wind, “We still need animals.”

“Need animals?” Ivy asked.

“We need to bring animals from your planet.”

“Animals will be frightened, frightened. They know bad winds,” Ivy replied, trying to catch her breath.

Obbo tried to keep up. “They sense bad winds before we do,” he said, panting.

Howling gusts blew Bach’s words back into his mouth. “We’ll never round up frightened animals.”

“What?” Ivy yelled.

“Where-are-the-animals?” Bach asked.

“Hiding from bad winds. That way,” she yelled, pointing right.

The four made it to a crude outpost where birds and small, ground-dwelling animals had gathered in fear. Star, Ivy, and Obbo corralled the little animals and used Star’s fabric map as a sling to carry them. Bach emptied a water trough to carry the others. A variety of birds flew alongside as the four hurried to the ship.

*****

After securing the animals, Star rushed back to the main cabin, only to find Bach so preoccupied prepping for rapid ascent he’d forgotten to take Ivy and Obbo to their chamber. “Ready for liftoff,” he yelled.

Star buckled the short statured people beside Bach on the wraparound bench in the cockpit, and the big ship ascended into the darkened sky, leaving behind raging twisters on planet Gihon.

The little couple chattered and sobbed. “First our two daughters disappear, now our people and home planet suffer.”

“Your children disappeared?” Star asked.

“Disappeared without a word or sign. Disappeared,” Ivy replied.

Obbo added, “All children vanished. Gone. Can’t explain it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Star said. “Something’s going on. Children are also missing from planet En Gedi. I’ll investigate as soon as we get back to Dura.” She wrote in a logbook.

Once the ship was safely airborne, Star unharnessed the little pair and helped them from the bench. “We have accommodations for you in our E-module. I’ll take you there.”

“Where are we headed?” Obbo asked.

Star pulled up the flight plan on the monitor while Obbo peeked over her shoulder. Before she could answer, he warned, “Don’t go now to planet Troas.”

“Troas is next on the chart, it’s closest,” she said.

“Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Time to save, leads to the grave. Go to Colosse.”

Ivy stepped to Obbo’s side. “Danger in the sky, do not fly, to Troas,” she warned.

“Do you mean the Rooks?” asked Star.

“Only can feel … many wings, many wings.” Ivy flapped her arms like wings.

Bach pondered Ivy’s comment. “Many wings? But, rerouting to Colosse will add to our time. It’s eighth on our original plan. How will wings harm us, Ivy?”

“Too many wings will never fly again,” said the tiny visionary.

Star looked at Bach. “We’d better go to Colosse … adjust the route sequence later. I trust Ivy’s and Obbo’s gifts of foresight.”

“I’ve got a feeling the Rooks are involved. Trying to foil our plans,” he said.

She nodded. “They know an airborne takeover is futile. They may have gone ahead to create problems.”

Obbo looked around and walked aft. “Will we sleep on this ship?”

“You’ll be aboard for a few days, comfortable and safe in the E-module.” Star led the little couple through the passageway.

Once inside their chamber, Ivy’s excitement overflowed at seeing the shrubbery and surroundings. “This simulates our home planet.”

“Feel free to explore and socialize with the others we’ll be picking up,” Star said. “If an alert sounds, watch the readouts on your chamber’s monitor for information from the flight deck. If you’re in the module’s communal area when an alarm sounds, return to your chamber. During takeoff and landing, or if we enter a dangerous situation, notification is instantaneous. Secure yourselves in your environment until further notice. The passageway door between the ships locks automatically.”

“What about the animals?” Obbo asked.

“Their module has gravity variance to compensate for sudden thrust.”

He questioned her further. “Can we come out later and spend time with you?”

“When Alpha’s airborne and your monitor is clear, you’re welcome to come to the flight deck operations area.”

“I’ll come there with Ivy. I want to see how this big ship operates,” he said.

Ivy smiled. “He loves instruments and mechanical things.” She patted Star’s arm. “And you don’t have to explain why we can’t leave the ship when we get to the other planets. We understand. You have a short time to search, and lots of territory.”

Star nodded. “That’s right.”

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Star opened the journal to the bookmark and read, “‘Intersecting paths of the daystars create a wide range of temperatures on Colosse. At times, it’s the brightest of all the planets. Colosse supplies grain and seafood to the co-op effort. Enemy manipulation ruined the more delicate crops, resulting in seafood as the staple.’”

Passing through sky the color of molten orange, Bach measured ground temperature minutes before touchdown. “We get the hot weather,” he said. At landing, he put protective eye drops in his and Star’s eyes to counteract the bright environment. When they stepped out, a dry, hot breeze greeted them. Bach grimaced and said, “Like facing a giant hair dryer.” He looked ahead with dread at the densely populated area. “A big place to search.”

They’d walked a short way to the city limits and found three roads leading through the business and residential areas when Bach saw something else of interest. He pointed to a fenced area on the right. “There’s a wildlife sanctuary over there. Let’s check it out.”

A sign on the gate read “All species on exhibit,” and listed the animal’s zoological names.

Star smiled with relief. “All species? We can get our animals here.”

His face lit up for a moment, then he grumbled, “Seems too easy.”

A clickity-clack sound at their backs grew steadily louder and they both turned around. A young, black-haired man with narrow eyes approached pulling a rickshaw. He stopped, nodded, and motioned for them to get in.

Bach helped Star into the carriage.

The rickshaw runner’s route wound along a curved seawall where dozens of old fishermen, who looked like they hadn’t moved from their prime spots in years, stood shoulder to shoulder along the wharf. Tanned and weathered, the anglers reeled in flipping catches from the salty water and tossed them into large baskets and barrels along the walkway.

The runner stopped on the main road and helped Star from the rickshaw. After Bach stepped out, the man bowed and trotted off into the crowd.

On busy Main Street, scores of noisy residents socialized, ate, and shopped for handcrafted jewelry, electronic gadgetry, and colorful clothing. Open-air fronts on several stores and a dozen portable kiosks in the middle of the road enticed passersby. Off to one side, people gathered around benches and tables in a grassy park, telling stories and participating in games while a band played and performers entertained on a stage.

Pungent aromas of seared meats and spicy seasonings, complemented by the sweet smells of honey and cinnamon, wafted through the air. Bach walked to a food concession and checked out the fare. After a deep, pleasurable breath, he smiled at Star with big eyes. “I’m hungry. How about we eat something good while we have a chance.”

She nodded. “I’m hungry too.”

Mouths watering, they headed to the kiosk with the shortest line and, while waiting their turn, watched the perspiring, dark-haired vendor as he hovered over red-hot cookware with knife blades flashing. The man had no time to look up, yet managed to joke with his waiting customers.

They’d almost reached the counter when Star’s anticipation went flat. She pulled Bach aside. “How will we pay?”

“Oh, no. Didn’t think about that.”

“Maybe he’ll barter.”

“For what?”

She patted Bach’s chest pocket where he’d put the storyteller doll.

The vendor glanced up as Bach pulled the doll from his pocket. The man watched as if he couldn’t take his eyes off the toy. He mopped his greasy hands on his food-stained apron and came from behind the booth to touch the doll.

“Can we trade this for food?” Bach asked.

“Yes!” the vendor answered. “I’ll give you all you like.” He pushed trays into their hands and piled steaming rice, seafood, and orange-flavored rolls onto wooden plates.

The ravenous two balanced their trays while the merchant filled two mugs to overflowing with a frothy amber liquid. Anxious to calm their growling stomachs, they hurried through the crowd to a bench facing a row of storefronts. Bach balanced his tray on his lap and rubbed his hands together with a wily grin. “The heck with etiquette.” He stuffed a jumbo shrimp and half a roll into his mouth. “Good stuff,” he mumbled, spewing crumbs as he spoke.

Star smiled at his antics.

Bach wrapped both hands around the big mug and took a couple of swigs of the foamy brew. He popped his tongue off the roof of his mouth. “Ahhh.” His nostrils flared. “Tastes like beer.”

“It’s philo. Made from grains.”

“Beer!” he said, chuckling.

A female street mime dressed in a black and white bodysuit sashayed to the bench and took a long sidestep in front of them. Three painted black tears fell from each eye onto her chalk-white face. The mime looked first at Star, then at Bach. She stuck her fists into her pockets and dramatically withdrew her left hand, opening it slowly. Empty. She withdrew her right hand and presented three gold coins in her outstretched palm. Bach reached out. “Am I supposed to take the coins?”

The mime looked at him with a disconnected stare and fisted her hand. Then she unfolded her fingers one-by-one to display her empty palm. She shrugged and strolled away to Bach and Star’s applause.

Bach slugged down more philo and leaned back on the bench with eyes closed to savor the cool tingle. Then he jumped up all at once, pointing with hands flailing. “Star, those coins … that mime’s coins had symbols on them.”

She looked at him strangely. “I didn’t see symbols.”

He looked around impatiently, took the food tray from her lap and set it aside, then pulled her from the bench by the hand. “Hurry. Where’d she go?”

“I didn’t see anything on the coins. Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes. When I watched her perform they didn’t register. But now I know I saw them.”

Star pointed toward the crowded street. “She went that way.”

They left their food on the bench and searched through a mass of faces, colors, and sounds on Main Street. But the mime was nowhere to be found.

“This can’t be happening. They can’t make themselves disappear,” he complained.

“Maybe she went down by the seawall.”

The two searched both sides of the wharf’s cobblestone street, and the alleyways, rest areas, and bait stands. Star caught up with Bach, who had moved ahead. “I’m going to ask someone,” she said. “This is a big area. The mime might have a performance schedule.” She approached a dozen men fishing shoulder-to-shoulder on the dock. One man, his face tanned and wrinkled like a Shar Pei dog’s, turned to look at her. She moved to his side. “Will you help us? We’re looking for a mime we saw on the street. Does she perform on a schedule?”

The man’s slanted brown eyes narrowed. “Mimes disappear. It’s part of their act. No one controls a mime.”

Bach yelped from behind Star, “Their act? You mean there’s more than one?”

“Certainly there’s more than one.”

“And you’re saying we have to wait until they feel like showing up again?”

“No one controls a mime,” said the man. He turned back and focused on his fishing rod.

Star pushed Bach along. “Keep looking.”

“This is making me mad,” he said with a snort. “What if we have to wait another day for her to reappear?”

“If we go back to where we were, maybe she’ll come again, or if another mime performs we can check her coins.”

They wove through the crowd and neared where they’d left their food when Bach spotted a mime behind a nearby vendor’s booth. “Look! Maybe that’s her.” He rushed to the mine, clenching and opening his hands as if performing the coin trick. “Are you the one who did that excellent coin trick for us—the one with the three coins? Please … do it again.”

She stared.

“Oh, please … come on,” he pled. “Say something. Do something. I want to see your coin trick.”

The mine’s unblinking eyes seemed glued to her mannequin-like face.

Star stood back, watching. They were looking for a mime with three painted tears under each eye. Bach had found her. Now it was time for a little reverse psychology. Star elbowed him. “Let’s go, Bach. That’s not her. The one we saw had different face paint.”

The mime leapt in front of Bach in a confrontational stance. She shoved her hands into her pockets and stood motionless with a blank look on her face. Bach’s anticipation seemed a pressure cooker about to blow. Finally, to the sound of his heavy breaths, she pulled her clenched fists from her pockets and, with slow, agonizing moves, held both downturned fists straight out.

Bach knew he was supposed to choose, but didn’t want to play. “Just show me what’s in both hands,” he snapped.

Her face seemingly set in stone, the mime poked her hands back into her pockets and walked away.

“Stop!” he called out. “Don’t go. I’ll choose.”

The girl stopped, but didn’t turn around. Bach stepped in front of her, stared at her blank face, and fought to control the irritation in his voice. “Your coins are sacred, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. There’s a reward for their possession. I’ll help you receive it.”

The mime seemed made of stone.

Star pulled on Bach’s arm. “Come on. She’s a poor performer. Let’s find the one who worked magic with her coins.”

The mime’s poker face twitched. She stuck her hand into her right pocket, then threw a nonexistent coin onto the street. She repeated the move with her left hand, but this time flashed a coin at Bach before forcefully throwing it to the ground. The coin rolled under a booth. Bach flattened himself to the pavement, retrieved the coin, and hurriedly turned it over and around. Then he realized that an x spanned the circumference.

“An x!” he groused in exasperation. “It’s not a symbol at all, it’s a dumb x.” He tossed the coin onto the vendor’s counter, grumbling, “I’m going back for my philo.”

“We should move on and check out the residences,” Star said.

“If our lunch is still on that bench, I want to eat the rest of it. We don’t know when we’ll get fresh-cooked food again.”

Their meals were still on the bench, and as soon as they finished eating, Bach took the trays to a receptacle alongside the door of a jewelry store where several people had stopped in front of the picture window to watch goldsmiths working inside. He stood with the spectators for a minute or so, watching two male artisans set colored gemstones into bracelets, and a female, with black hair reaching halfway down her back, working at a buffing wheel.

The lady polished a gold piece, turning it over and around before holding it up for final inspection. The crossed-circle icon sparkled in her hand.

Bach rushed into the store. “Please, may I see the piece you’re working on?”

The sloe-eyed woman handed him the gold piece. “It signifies reverence for land, wind, fire, and water.”

Star had seen Bach enter the jewelry store, but when he didn’t come back out after a few minutes, she got up to find out why. When she stepped inside the store, he handed her the symbol.

“It’s beautiful,” she said to the woman. “Is it your own design?”

“No. My future husband, Yang, designed them. We’ll wear matching ones.”

Bach looked at the two male goldsmiths, wondering which one might be Yang, but the woman pointed to the vendor’s booth where the pair had bartered for food. “Yang’s concession is outside.”

Bach stammered for the lady’s name. “Uh, Miss….”

“Yin,” she said.

“Yin?”

“My name is Yin,” she said again.

“Yin? You’re Yin and he’s Yang? Oh, my gosh,” he muttered. Pointing to the symbol in Star’s hand he asked Yin, “Can we take this to Yang’s booth? We’d like to talk to him.”

“Yes. I’ll go with you.”

When they arrived at Yang’s kiosk, Yin said, “These people want to talk to you about your artwork.”

He nodded with a half-bow and noticed Star’s necklaces at the same time. “We anticipated a sign from the Creator. We are ready.”

“Excellent!” slipped from Bach’s lips. “We have far to go and must hurry.”

Yang abandoned a line of hungry people and wove his way through the crowd to find a rickshaw. Yin, Bach, and Star returned to the jewelry store for the second symbol. Within minutes, Yang pulled up with the rickshaw and the four were on their way. They would gather animals at the sanctuary.

During the short ride the bright sky dimmed, as if someone had altered the daystars, and a sinister darkness swept in. Within minutes, rain exploded from the once-bright sky and the hot breeze turned frigid and vaporous. Panicked people raced around the distant harbor as a half-dozen waterspouts, thousands of feet high, swirled from the cresting sea and rolled toward the wharf.

Yang yelled to the others, “Five minutes before waterspouts touch shore.”

As the faithful four neared the sanctuary in the rickshaw, they witnessed a miraculous happening in progress. Elephants had knocked down the gates and barriers, and animals both large and small raced toward the Alpha herded together, the smaller ones riding on the backs and heads of the larger ones, as relentless cyclonic gusts pushed them onward.

Bach, Star, Yin, and Yang helped the wet, cold beasts board the ship.

While Star hurriedly secured the new arrivals in their quarters, Bach closed the ramp and watched the monitor. A waterspout leveled what was once the animal sanctuary and now swirled toward the landing pad.

*****

The big ship roared from Colosse, barely escaping the waterspouts. When the flight path leveled off, Ivy and Obbo came from the environmental module into the main cabin and brought Yin and Yang with them.

Star motioned for Yin and Yang to look at the viewscreen. Their city had been spared the waterspouts’ fury, but the sanctuary and the landing pad where Alpha had been parked were destroyed.

“We’ve never experienced waterspouts of such magnitude,” said Yang. “I sensed evil.”

“Yes, I did too,” Star replied.

Yin changed the subject. “Ivy told us more about your mission and that we can hear the journal reading for the next planet.”

With the journal in hand, Star and the five others gathered mid ship in the alcove wall hammocks. “Planet Zarephath is next.” She opened the book and scanned the page. “There’s a glassworks factory, and it says they’ve used their planet’s minerals in ways thought impossible.”

“No, no, not Zarephath. Not the time to go to Zarephath,” Ivy warned.

Star sighed. “We can’t keep rerouting. We’re two days behind.”

Ivy waved her small finger. “You better check. Not the time to go.”

Star returned to the cockpit. “Okay, I’ll check it out, but we’re almost there.”

Yin grasped Ivy’s little hand. “Why shouldn’t we go?”

“Specter angry. Fiery furnaces, people die.” She stood and walked in a circle with her hands clasped behind her back. “Furnaces spewing, spewing. Specter angry.”

Yang looked into Ivy’s eyes. “How do you know what’s going on elsewhere? Have you been there?”

“Zarephath comes to me!” she said.

Ivy’s vision stopped instantly when something hit the ship that sounded like golfball-sized popcorn exploding in a metal bag. Dark splats plastered the cockpit windshield, coming harder and faster by the second, and the view fogged to a sheet of silvery gray.

Star turned to alert the passengers to go back to the E-module, but they were already gone.

Bach yelled above the noise. “Where did this stuff come from? We detected nothing.” He checked a data feed. “Something just triggered it and now we’re in a huge oil cloud orbiting the planet like a moon. Gotta break free, or we’ll shut down.”

What should have been a clear view of astral space was now black as night. Bach increased engine power in an attempt to escape, but the massive thrusters stalled with a shudder, leaving the Kingship adrift in greasy smog.

Star’s fingers flew across a keyboard. “There has to be a way to escape it.”

Bach grabbed a hand-held device. “There are no emergency instructions for restarting engines in something like this.” Using an earphone with recorded instructions, he rattled off options to Star, but everything they tried failed. He looked at his watch in disgust—Earth time—another two hours lost.

Star ran a sim for an atypical approach to restart the engines. Within seconds, the ship lurched, lights flickered, and the thrusters ignited. They emerged from the black tomb and re-entered clear space.

Bach launched two hand-sized drones to clean the exterior windows and check for engine contamination. The shiny metal devices, shaped like giant jacks from a childhood game, collected samples from Alpha’s hull and relayed information to the ship’s electro-brain. He looked at Star with concern. “Alpha’s a mess. There’s oil covering the nozzles and sensors.”

She checked the readout. “It’ll burn off. We’re okay.”

A terrain scan showed planet Zarephath obscured by a dark haze. Bach commented, “It’s unapproachable. What would fill the atmosphere with oil?”

Star shot a laser pen at the middle of what looked like an empty picture frame. The panel lit up with a liquid-like display. “Nothing detected in the rest of the zone. It came from the planet itself.” She turned to Bach, “Remember Ivy’s nervous pacing? And when we were on planet Gihon, a little red-haired lady told me the Specter would create havoc.” She checked the panel. “Let’s reroute to Maon. It’s not that far off course.”

Bach changed course a full ninety degrees, worrying to himself about fuel and time loss.

Star read from the journal, “‘Unique atmospheric conditions enhance the soil’s fertility and make possible rapid growth of crops and all living things. The Specter’s scientific control over Maon’s environment disrupted the growing cycles, resulting in abundance or famine.’”

“What kinds of crops do they grow?”

“Fruits, vegetables, and grains. They also grow flowering plants for their fragrances and nectar. There are no animals left. Over time, rapid growth caused them to die too quickly, before they could reproduce.” She read more. “‘People of Maon are blessed with total recall memory.’ And it says that ‘males outnumber females by five to one.’”

Bach sighed. “That’ll make it harder to find our pair.”

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

From above, planet Maon’s artfully arranged crops appeared as a tapestry woven in shades of green, brown, red, and gold. With no signs of cities or civilization in any direction, the Alphamates set down on a small landing pad bordered on one side by tilled land, and the other by hundreds of acres of abundant fruit trees, vegetable plants, and berry bushes.

Star powered down the flight systems while Bach stepped outside to examine the ship for damage. Other than the expected oil coating, a quick walk around the Alpha showed nothing serious. But, something high on the space station’s hull grabbed his attention—the name ALtemus Rider’s Kingship crudely painted, one word under the other in three horizontal rows. Strange. Instead of Alpha, Altemus named it after himself. And why the capital L? He went to the foot of the ramp and yelled through the cabin. “Hey, Star, come out here … something I want you to see.”

She studied the writing with a shrug. “Perhaps he tried to confuse the enemy.”

“Maybe. But I’m going to think about it while we search for the symbol.”

*****

The tilled land to their right stretched for miles with no signs of habitation. To the left, a small walkway of triangular yellow flagstones led from the landing site through lush vegetation. They followed the stones and entered a massive expanse of perfectly spaced plants.

“Holy cow. Look how tall these crops are!” Bach called out. He waved his arm over his head. “They’re more than twice my height.”

Star nodded. “That’s why we didn’t see buildings from the aerial view; they’re obscured by this giant foliage.”

In fields ripe for harvest, giant flowers were commingled with the crops, and the combined scents of berries, vegetables, and flowers created a presence so calming, Star felt the need to whisper as she ventured farther in. “This is breathtaking. I’m amazed to see all these beautiful flowers growing like this.”

Bach expanded his chest with a deep breath and touched what looked like huge green beans growing on a tangled cluster of vines six-feet high. “These are the largest vegetables I’ve ever seen.”

The two continued along the yellow flagstone pathway, but when it came to an end in the middle of the crops Bach looked around, scratched his head, and said, “That’s odd. I wonder why it led here … to nothing?” He moved a few yards deeper through the crops and listened for signs of life. “Dead still,” he called back to Star. “Don’t tell me we have to find our way through a maze of crops to find civilization.”

She walked ahead, peering down row after row. “It seems they go on forever. How will we find the right direction?”

“There has to be something within walking distance. The co-op crews wouldn’t use a landing site far from civilization.” He sprang like a kangaroo, hoping to see over the rows. “Can’t see anything.” He looked around one more time then pointed to the right. “Tell ya what. You make a quick pass that way,” then he pointed left, “and I’ll check this way. As soon as one of us finds something, give a yell and the other can catch up.”

“I think we should stay together.”

“It’ll take twice as long if we reach dead ends together.”

“What if we get lost?” Star asked. “I hated it when I couldn’t find you on Gihon.”

“Okay, we’ll mark our path.” He glanced around. “There’s an old children’s story where the kids marked their path to keep from getting lost.” A taller plant nearby, with no leaves and a single, yellow, mop-headed flower at the top, caught his eye. Six brown, lemon-sized pods hung from the middle of the plant’s thick stalk. “Here’s the perfect marker,” he said, stepping over to the nearest one. “See this huge plant with one big yellow flower, no leaves, and strange brown pods growing in a cluster? There are more of them than any other. Look, they’re so tall you can easily see them all the way down the rows. Let’s remove the pods off of each stalk as we pass by.” He pulled off a pod cluster to show what he was talking about. “Then we can follow the plants with the bare stems to find our way back.” The pods crumbled into a dry mulch in his hand.

Star squinted in thought. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Trust me, it’ll work. And it’s easy. They disintegrate at the touch.”

“I don’t know, Bach….”

“We’re bound to find something eventually.”

The two set out in opposite directions, removing the pod clusters from the yellow-flowering plants as they went.

Bach had pulled the pods from hundreds of stalks, and covered several acres of fields that seemed without end when he came to a clearing. Just ahead, on a flagstone trail, a man and woman struggled to load a harvest of cut flowers and vegetables into their cart. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The two were as small as children, but had the withered faces and bodies of old people. He approached slowly. Involved in their work, the man and woman didn’t notice him. “Hello,” he called out lightly so as not to scare them. “Will you tell me where this trail leads?”

The fragile, golden-haired woman looked up. “To the Commons.” She had the voice of a child. “We’re going there to work and to celebrate our harvest with a special feast. This is the first crop we’ve had since the 18th period. Would you like to join us?” She stepped to her mate’s side and patted him on the back. “This is my partner, Clay, and my name’s Calla.”

Clay adjusted his miniature straw hat. “Did you bring something to exchange?”

“Not today,” Bach replied, “we’re here on a brief mission. Can I help with your cart?”

Clay cocked his head to one side. “You said, ‘we’re here,’ but there’s no one but you.”

Bach didn’t answer for a moment. “Uh, well, my partner, Star, she’s over there.” He thumbed to the right. “I’m Bach, from Jenesis.” He looked over his shoulder and yelled, “Hey Star, I found somebody.” His voice seemed to bounce off the dense foliage, so he tried again, “Yoo hoo, Star, over here! The left direction was the right way.” Again, the crops stifled his call.

Clay asked, “How far away is she?”

“I don’t know. We searched in opposite directions. But she’ll find her way back. We marked our trail, removed the dry, brown pod clusters from the yellow-flowered plants.”

Calla’s eyes widened. She tugged on Bach’s sleeve. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“On Maon we have a phenomenon of rapid growth—”

“Yeah, I know about that.”

She shook her head. “Those seed pods you removed—they’ve grown back by now.”

Bach’s voice raised an octave. “What?” He darted back to the last yellow-flowered plant and shouted, “Oh, no!” at seeing a new cluster of six brown pods growing in the middle of the stalk. He rushed a few yards out and whistled and yelled for Star, but the impenetrable vegetation devoured his words. Pacing, he looked at Clay and pointed to the right. “What’s in that direction?”

“Nothing but crops.”

Hands windmilling through his hair, Bach wailed, “This can’t be! How will I find her?”

“She’s from Jenesis, right?” Clay asked.

“Yes.”

“She’ll find her way. Jenesis people have more brain power than other people.”

Bach made another trip to the closest giant stalk and inspected the new pods again. “I can’t believe this.”

Clay tossed piles of produce onto the cart. “You might as well come along, Bach. She’ll find the Commons before she finds you.”

Bach filled his cheeks with air and blasted it out with a fluttering sound. “This is awful.”

“We have to hurry now,” Calla said. “You come with us. She’ll be all right.”

“We can’t be separated for long,” he stated.

As the withered pair began to pull the cart, Bach suddenly registered the cart’s mass relative to theirs—twenty times their size. “Here, let me take it.” He stepped alongside Clay, and helped him and Calla aboard.

While pulling the cart along the flagstone trail, Bach’s worries over Star’s whereabouts multiplied, and he huffed out breath after breath of frustration.

Calla broke his train of thought by calling ahead to him. “We’re not as old as we look, Bach. It happened when the Rooks experimented with rapid growth.”

Saddened and angered by what he heard, Bach barely found words to reply. “I’m distressed by what they’ve done.”

With the marketplace in sight, Clay shook his head as if irritated. “Don’t be surprised when you get to the Commons. Exactly ten seasons ago it housed our bounty, but famines and lack of use have left it too long without care. Only through co-op exchanges have we stayed alive. Now, at last, we have a successful harvest. I hope people stay peaceful.”

*****

In the Commons, hundreds of small, prematurely old people deposited crops into holding bins for the massive food exchange. Bach helped Calla and Clay unload, then set out in a rush to see if Star might have made it there on her own as Clay had said.

“Bach! Over here,” came the sound of Star’s voice. She stood deep in the crowd, arms crisscrossing over her head.

Bach elbowed his way through wagons and piles of produce and arrived breathless at her side. “You’re here! I almost panicked. I didn’t know if you’d find your way.”

She smiled with wide eyes. “Me? I was worried about you. After I noticed that the pods grew right back I was afraid you’d be lost for hours.”

“You noticed that? Why didn’t you yell at me?”

“I tried, but the crops soundproofed my voice.”

“How did you find your way here before I did?”

She shrugged as if it had been no big deal. “Followed a yellow flagstone road. They’re throughout the fields in a grid pattern—every ten rows.”

Bach huffed. “Then how’d you know you were going in the right direction?”

“The stones are triangles. They point to the Commons like arrows. How’d you get here?”

He looked away to hide his fib. “Just figured it out.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Well, this time I mean it. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

“Okay, this time I’ll agree. And, I can’t lie, I ran into a couple and they gave me a lift.”

“Ohhh,” she said, “the easy way.”

He looked into her amazing blue eyes. “It wasn’t easy. My blood was pumpin’ with concern.”

Nearby, a withered-looking boy unloaded the last few purple fruits from his cart. “Did you bring something for the exchange?” he asked.

Bach shook his head. “Not this time, but we’re not here to take anything from you either.”

A small female shuffled vegetables from her cart to a bin, but spoke with her head down. “When the Rooks come, they take things so they can help us.”

“They’re untruthful.” Bach stifled frustration. “They’ve ruined your planet and shortened your life span with scientific tinkering.”

She looked up. “Can you change it back?”

He grimaced. “This has evolved over years, decades, generations. There may be a way to change it back, but it won’t happen soon.”

Her tiny voice held sorrow. “I wish it could happen now.”

The Alphamates continued to search the Commons for those with a symbol. Star made eye contact with a male nearby who smiled and selected two huge red fruits from his bin, then broke into a run to greet her. He jumped up and dropped the fruits into her hands as if depositing basketballs into a hoop, then ran off. She shouted, “Thank you,” and he acknowledged it with a wave of his hand over his head.

Star pressed the smooth-skinned fruits to her nose and inhaled their sweet aroma with delight. She handed one to Bach.

He juggled the grapefruit-sized sphere hand to hand. “Enough for a whole meal.” He took a bite, and his wide-open chomp left but a peck in the ruby-red fruit. Rolling the bitten piece around in his mouth like a child eating a too-big piece of candy, he hummed with pleasure. “Mmmm, tastes like an apple and peach together.”

After he’d eaten about a third of the crisp, red fruit, to his surprise Bach noticed two small seeds in the center—one circular, the other like a cross. Curious, he broke the fruit open all the way. The four-sectioned core looked like the symbol of hope. He showed it to Star. “Could this be it?”

“Let’s look at mine.” She struck hers against a rock and broke it open. The fruit’s circular core had two crossed lines and the seeds looked like x’s and o’s.

“C’mon, let’s go find the little guy who gave them to you.”

She hesitated. “I don’t think it’s a symbol, because everyone with these fruits would have it. How would we know the two people we’re to take with us?”

He looked again. “We have to try. If this isn’t it, maybe the little guy will lead us to it. I haven’t seen anything else, and time’s passing fast.”

“Do you remember what he looked like? They look a lot alike, and he just seemed to disappear back into the crowd.”

“I don’t remember,” Bach said. “Blue pants, I think.”

Their height gave them a good view, but in the sea of people and carts in the Commons they didn’t find the man in blue pants. Bach scanned the crowd and beyond and noticed a couple on a side pathway struggling with a damaged cart. The man braced his fragile body against a broken wheel over and over again, trying to keep it on the spindle, while a small lady attempted to pull the wagon. Each time the wagon moved forward a foot, the little guy’s legs splayed in a desperate stance against the overpowering load. He fell, got up, held the wheel, then fell again.

Bach shouted ahead, “Hold on, we’re coming.” He covered thirty yards in large bounds and stabilized the swaying cart while Star helped the farmer up from the ground. The little lady scurried around retrieving fallen flowers and vegetables.

“How long have you been pulling this broken cart?” Star asked. “You must be exhausted.”

“I am very tired,” the fair-haired lady replied. “We’ve loaded, reloaded, and pulled for half the morning. We have a good harvest to share, a bounty from our Creator’s hand.”

“See the problem,” the man said, waving his arm. “Our wheel has given out, and now we’re late for the Commons.”

Star examined the broken wheel while the man looked on. Four spokes remaining within the circle formed the symbol. Star nudged Bach and softly said, “The lady spoke of the Creator.”

Bach knelt to eye level with the man. “Come with us. We’re fulfilling the Creator’s plan.”

The man and woman stood back and whispered to each other, then she spoke, “My name is Violet, and my spouse is Noble. Where are you going?”

“To Dura aboard a spacecraft,” Bach answered. “We have passengers aboard from other planets.”

“Others?” Violet looked apprehensive. “I’ve never met anyone from the other planets except Dura’s co-op crews, and Rooks.” She hesitated. “Will you tell the others that Noble and I are not old? We just look old. Even the youngest on Maon look old, it’s the same for everyone.” She stepped beside her mate. “Our ancestors didn’t suffer this degeneration. It came from the Specter’s experimentation.”

Bach bent down and held Violet’s hands, then looked into her eyes and said, “You’ll fit in just fine with the rest of the group, and you’ll have your own quarters on the ship. Please trust us.”

“Will we be safe from the Specter?”

“I believe so.”

“Someone’s taking all the children,” Violet said.

“Yes, we’ve heard that from the others on board. I promise to investigate as soon as we get to Dura.”

Star filled two crates from the wagon with a variety of fruits and vegetables to take along. She looked at Bach. “Without animals there’s nothing else to bring, right?”

Noble interjected, “We’re supposed to bring something else?”

Star nodded. “We’re collecting all the animal species, but you have no animals.”

“No animals—only insects.”

Insects? Bach thought about it. “Yes, let’s bring insects. They’re beneficial. But how can we capture them?”

“Violet keeps them.” Noble climbed onto the cart and lifted a hinged flap covering a storage bin. Inside were numerous wood and screen boxes filled with insects, two as small as a matchbox. He set the containers at the edge of the cart, talking as he worked. “Most of the insects died during the famines, but we rescued those we could and nurtured them, then released them to pollinate this year’s harvest. It wasn’t easy to recapture them and they don’t live long, so Violet keeps the younger breeding pairs in her loving care. If not for her, we would never have had a successful crop.”

“I learned from worship what was necessary,” she said. “I take no credit myself.”

Noble added, “She loves all living things, makes sure every insect has a mate. Even names them.”

Star’s eyes widened. “The insects have names?”

He handed her a box. “Grace and her mate, Honor.”

A bulge-eyed praying mantis and its partner, hands drawn in prayer, stared at Star.

Bach looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Grace and Honor … love it.”

The four carried two crates of fresh produce and a dozen small boxes with ladybugs, bees, caterpillars, dragonflies, and a plethora of propitious insects to the ship.

#

With Violet and Noble secured in their environmental chamber, Bach released the insects in the hydroponic garden’s screen room and pondered the discovery of the same insects as found on his home planet. It’s the same Creator, he rationalized, the one who made Earth and all the things on it. The one who brought me here.

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Bach enlarged a viewscreen image showing Baalbek’s open plains, rocky mounts, and jungle forests, then zeroed in on a well-worn area leading through the underbrush of a lush green area near the landing site. Several interconnecting trails led from nearby villages to a circular arena where he detected activity.

Having read that the planet was aligned under intersecting paths of all three daystars, with temperatures reaching extremes, he and Star disembarked wearing soft, transparent head coverings and thin, white E-suits over their jumpsuits. They followed a footpath deep into the surrounding jungle, and trekked through trees and shrubs for two miles when they heard and felt a rhythmic drumbeat. A few yards more and they were at the perimeter of the spacious arena that Bach had seen on the terrain scan. Staying under cover of jungle brush, they watched dozens of dark-skinned natives in the distance brandishing spears and chanting in ritual around a blazing fire.

A contest or celebration was in progress, and one area of the arena had been set aside for a special event. Two natives facing opposite directions stood guard over a large, man-shaped target constructed of rocks. A padded, red-fabric heart on the rock-man’s chest served as a bullseye.

The Alphamates observed for a while, trying to get a feel for the event. But they quickly realized that their arrival had not gone unnoticed. Two boys in loincloths with warpainted faces ran toward them from a nearby trail, shouting and chattering with raised spears. The youths skidded to a stop five yards away. The smaller of the two, with purple stars outlining his eyes, held a bunch of white flowers in one hand and a spear in the other. The bigger boy, his face painted to look like a lion, clutched a handful of orange berries to his chest and pointed his spear at the visitors.

Star noticed the white flowers in the smallest boy’s hand. She smiled from behind her headcover and waved.

Neither boy moved.

Bach bent down to their level. “Hi, kids. My name’s Bach; this is Star.”

The boy with the lion-painted face stepped forward and shoved a handful of the orange berries toward Bach’s face. After Bach took them, the youth motioned with his spear for him to share them with Star. Bach handed a portion of the berries to his partner.

With a look of expectation, the boy focused on the Alphamates’ faces as he brought his cupped hand to his mouth and ate the last of the berries. He chewed for a few seconds then opened his mouth and dangled his orange-colored tongue.

The smaller boy moved alongside his brother. Staring from wild-looking eyes, both kids pointed their spears at the intruders.

Bach looked at Star. “I guess we’re supposed to get orange tongues, too. It has to be okay or he wouldn’t have eaten them.”

As the brothers looked on, Bach and Star lifted their headgear just enough to eat the citrusy berries. Then Bach stuck out his orange-tinged tongue. Star hesitated for a moment, then did the same.

Seeming more pleased than his big brother, the smaller boy shuffled his feet in a little dance and stuck the white flowers under his brother’s nose. Then he tauntingly shook the flowers toward Bach and Star and yelled, “Hex.” Both kids yelped gleefully, then beat a hasty retreat along the arena, dust flying from their bare feet as they ran.

Star looked at Bach. “Hex?”

“I think they’re just playing. But I’m trying to figure out why they’re still here if all the children are missing.”

“Those on the other planets said that kids are disappearing slowly. We must check on that as soon as we get home.”

Bach looked around. “We didn’t read much before we got here. What does Baalbek contribute to the co-op effort?”

“Meat, and minerals, and the people have great physical strength.”

The two continued around the clearing’s edge at a safe distance from the event. The sound of a heavy, thumping drumbeat shook their insides, and tinkling rainsticks, warbling wind instruments, and intensifying chants and yells added to the ceremonial composition. Women spectators lined the distant sidelines, and over a hundred body-painted males joined in an ever-circling dance around a five-foot-high bonfire in the center of the arena.

“Just looking at that fire makes me hot,” Bach said. “Startin’ to sweat.”

“Me too,” Star replied. “It must be hotter here than recorded in the logbook. I feel it through the E-suit.”

Bach bobbed along to the drumbeat. “I like this music. Wonder what’s going on?”

“Seems a bit ominous to me,” she replied.

“The celebrants don’t seem to know we’re here,” he said, “but I have a feeling we should stay under cover.”

Star pointed off to one side to a sprawling tree with a makeshift platform nine feet up. “I saw those two boys scurry up a rope ladder on that tree. Maybe they’ll tell us what’s happening.”

Bach and Star headed to the tree tower. When they looked up at the platform, two faces and four black eyes glared down.

Star shouted to the boys over the noise. “Will you come down and talk to us?”

Crouched on their knees, the expressionless children said nothing.

Star stood on her tiptoes and extended her hand, but the boys didn’t move.

Bach noticed Star’s face covered in sweat. “I’m uneasy, too,” he said, moving closer to the tree. “Here, let me try. I know they’ll see me smiling through this headgear.” He yelled up to the kids. “Don’t be afraid. We’re friendly.”

In one quick move, the boy with purple stars around his eyes thrust his hand toward Bach.

Bach jumped back.

The youth gripped the open edge of a giant snail shell and lowered it toward Bach as if he wanted him to take it.

Bach stretched until he hurt, waved his arm back and forth, and came within a fingernail of the shell, but the kid wouldn’t give an inch.

Then the boy’s lips curled up with a smile. He drew the shell to his mouth, and with one long blow produced a hornlike blast that trilled to the skies above Baalbek. The ceremonial music stopped abruptly and hundreds of savage faces focused on Bach and Star at the base of the tree. A lone drumbeat, like a signal, drove the mob of chanting natives with raised spears toward the intruders. A large native emerged from the throng and strode forward. His body seemed a walking wall of muscles.

“Uh-oh. He must be the high chief.” Bach shielded Star with his body.

The stately leader, covered head to toe in shimmering gold paint, looked like a gilded idol wearing a white leather loincloth. A flash of light sparked off of a golden, sun-like medallion embedded in his forehead.

The tribe hummed like a swarm of bees as the chief strode forward, smooth muscles quivering with each step. Three yards from Bach and Star, he stopped and planted his huge bare feet wide apart, and with a flip of his head, flung shoulder-length dreadlocks from his face. He raised his left hand and the aroused natives fell silent.

Bach suddenly felt like he couldn’t swallow. A stream of sweat trickled from his throbbing temples, down his neck, onto his pulsing chest. He hyperventilated and struggled for a breath.

Star latched onto his arm. Weak and perspiring, she whispered, “I feel sick.”

The chief’s dark eyes dissected the pair inch-by-inch.

Bach extended his arm hoping for a handshake, and coughed out the word, “Peace.”

“Do not speak!” bellowed the high chief. He placed his hand on Bach’s shoulder and, with a powerful grip, shoved him to the ceremonial circle and seated him in front of the roaring fire. An underling delivered Star to a spot beside Bach.

Bach could barely speak. “I’m suffocating,” he said to Star. “These E-suits are supposed to withstand higher temperatures than this.” When she didn’t reply he turned to look and saw her face deathly white behind her headgear.

She swayed forward, voice fading. “Not the suits … the orange berries.” In desperation, she peeled off her headgear and gulped in the thick, hot air.

A sharp whistle from the chief summoned a statuesque, bronze-skinned woman from the sidelines. Black ostrich feathers fastened to white cording covered her delicate areas, and thick gold cuffs adorned her neck, wrists, and ankles. So bright were the whites of her eyes and teeth, Bach noticed nothing else of her face. She handed two wooden cups to the chief. He stirred them with his finger, made a cooing sound, then handed them back. She forced the cups into Bach’s and Star’s hands.

Bach eyed the concoction—slimy and red, like a pigeon’s blood. “We can’t drink this!” he stated. “We don’t understand your customs.”

“Elixir increases strength. Reveals most powerful and brave,” the chief declared. “Bravest chooses from possessions and family members, then rules Baalbek.”

Bach’s chest heaved with every breath.

The chief wrapped his huge hands around Bach’s headgear and lifted it off. He pointed his spear to his captive’s forehead and looked at the cup. “Drink!”

Bach’s eyes rolled up in his head. He pushed the cup toward the chief. “Can’t do this … ate berries … no time.”

The chief leaned his massive frame to within a few feet of Bach’s face. The native’s black-eyed gaze came with a push of his spear into Bach’s upper chest, making a wound just deep enough to pierce the skin. A rush of blood spread outward like a target on the white, sweat-soaked E-suit. “Drink!” said the chief. Next, he pointed to Star. “Drink!”

Unable to focus, she gagged. “What is it?”

“Strengthening elixir!”

With closed eyes, she tilted the cup of crimson slime. Words to Bach were a gurgle. “Don’t compete…!” Warlike chanting escalated when she slumped to the ground.

A final effort spewed from Bach’s lips, “I won’t drink this.”

Two underlings hovered over him. Words were unnecessary.

Head spinning, bathed in perspiration, Bach drank from the cup. He held back the swallow as long as he could, but before long his throat spasmed involuntarily and something that felt like a clot of congealed blood slid down his esophagus into his retching stomach. Hundreds of haughty eyes glared, and yelping voices rang in his ears as he entered a mental struggle to control his destiny and fight the effects of the sanguine sludge. When the elixir collided with the anesthetic effects of the orange berries, a final protest rolled off Bach’s thickened tongue and numb lips, “Can’t be part of your planet….” Then his ears rang, the surroundings turned double-imaged, and the ceremonial pyre cast a netherworldly glow on warpainted faces bobbing in and out of his sight. For a split second, a spark flashed from a decorated lance and, in his woozy mind, something looked like the Creator’s symbol. He turned to tell Star, but his thoughts ground to a halt, his head spiraled forward, and reason was no more.

The chief grumbled and flailed his hand above the catatonic pair. “Weak ones! Elixir finds no strength!”

Four natives carried Bach and Star to the base of the lookout tree, and the ceremony resumed. Yodeling men and women joined hands and performed a hopping, foot-stomping march as drumbeats echoed, flames blazed, and the arena swarmed with howling warriors brandishing pugil sticks and hurling boulders toward distant markers in an all-out bid for supremacy. Amid war cries and cheers, young and old battled each other, and round after round of flaming arrows found their marks in tree-stump and animal-skin targets.

An hour had passed when Bach began to awaken and his thought processes registered a distant sound. A drumbeat. I hear it and feel it pulsing in my stomach. Where am I? Teetering between stupor and awareness, he thought he felt something wet trickle over his nose and lips. The sensation was so real he slapped his face. Someone giggled. Flat on his back, he opened one eye, then the other. High above in the lookout tree, the lion-faced boy swung a bucket, splashing more water down on his head. Bach propped himself up against the tree trunk and brushed the water from his E-suit. He noticed the ring of blood and ran his hand over the circular stain. The wound beneath hurt at his touch. A slow, deep breath of the stifling air brought a whisper aloud just to hear himself speak, “I’m still alive … but my head’s splitting.” He reached over and touched Star’s limp body on the ground beside him and gently whisked her long dark hair from her face. That’s when he saw two pairs of bare feet close by, one larger than the other. He looked up.

A muscular, dark-skinned man looked down. Painted silver wings adorned the man’s upper body and brown woven fabric covered him from waist to knees. The pretty woman beside him wore a gauzy yellow tunic that matched painted yellow spirals encircling her arms and legs. She scolded the boys in the tree and chased them away, then knelt beside Bach and passed a cluster of white flowers under his nose. “Inhale,” she instructed. He closed his eyes and did as she said while she talked. “The two brothers are the last children on our planet. Troublesome they are, but they saved you from harm by giving you hex berries. They took you out of competition.” She moved to Star’s side and passed a cluster of white flowers under her nose.

Star awakened to a dizzying hum of sounds inside her head. “Ohhh, what happened?”

“You endured a mix of hex berries and the warrior’s potion,” the woman replied. “The berries prevailed. You’re lucky the elixir of strength didn’t.”

Holding his forehead, Bach groaned and again sniffed the invigorating flowers. “Elixir or not, we don’t have the strength to compete against your people.”

“Strength is our gift,” the man said. His body reflected his statement. “The Creator gives everyone a gift.”

The natives sponged the Alphamates’ dust-coated faces with moist, almond-scented leaves and, as Bach’s and Star’s senses returned, gave them mint-flavored seeds to eat to lower their body temperature and neutralize the effects of both the hex berries and elixir.

Bach looked around to get his bearings and noticed the natives’ spears poked into the ground alongside his and Star’s headgear. The symbol he thought he’d seen on a spear by the fire just before he passed out, hung from both of the spears. Am I still dreaming? Legs wobbling, he stood and touched the crossed circle. “The Creator,” he said. “I don’t believe it … you just said something about the Creator.”

“Yes.” The woman pointed to her mate. “Jett and I commune with him.”

“And your name?” Bach asked.

“Maya.”

“Maya and Jett, we’re here to take you with us.”

“We cannot leave,” Maya whispered. “Jett must win the challenge.”

Jett nodded. “Then I will decree sovereignty for my planet.”

To be sure that no one else could hear, Bach moved close to the natives. “My name is Bach. Star and I are under instructions from the Creator to find two chosen ones from Baalbek.” He pointed to the symbol. “This is the sign we seek to fulfill a special mission. Please come with us.”

Maya spoke with hushed excitement. “A special mission! Jett saw a bright light in the sky outlining clouds that formed that symbol. He claimed it as a sign of the four winds guiding us. Now I understand. It was the Creator’s signal.”

“Yes, his calling. The time has come,” Bach said.

As if planned, the noisy competition stopped—no gongs, no snail shell signals, just an unexpected end. From twenty yards away, a group of natives pressed forward like animals with hungry eyes, waiting for a signal from their leader to charge.

Maya and Jett stood stock-still with Bach and Star beside them.

Faint war cries rose from the pack and the two pint-sized snitches pushed their way to the forefront, jabbing the air with their little spears as they moved to the chief’s side with their tiny white teeth bared.

The chief burned a long gaze at Jett from across the distance and raised his lance horizontally over his head in a confrontational stance.

Jett accepted the challenge, pointing his spear at the crowd as he walked to the right. Maya grabbed Bach’s and Star’s headgear from the ground and handed it to them, then used her spear as a barrier to usher them around the arena’s perimeter. “Stay behind us.”

Midway around the ceremonial circle, Jett stopped, stepped forward, and faced the high chief with his left fist pressed to his heart. Hundreds of stunned faces looked on. Without waiting for reaction, Jett lunged and thrust his spear with Herculean strength toward the man-shaped rock target. The weapon sliced across the arena, the two target guards scattered, and Jett’s bullseye in the red fabric heart set in motion a ground-rattling thunder of yowls and stomps.

Maya whispered, “A bullseye has never been achieved from this distance. A spear in the idol’s heart is the final test in deciding who rules. Competition should take place much closer to the target.”

The chief grew angry that Jett had bypassed the preliminary competitions with marksmanship above any opponent’s who might reach the deciding challenge. He thumped his feet on the ground and let out a long, piercing cry. Silence followed.

Using Maya’s spear, Jett struck the ground three times, then turned his back and walked away—an indication he would battle the final victor and the chief.

A loud, continuous yodel rose from the crowd.

Jett and Maya slowly led Bach and Star toward the main pathway. Jett spoke in a half-whisper, “Now I have time to plan a getaway.”

Bach pressed to Jett’s side. “Animals. We need animals from Baalbek. How can we get them before the ritual ends without your leaders knowing?”

Jett pushed him along. “Our two most perfect of all breeds are nearby—held for sacrifice. I’ll remain here as if awaiting the final challenge while Maya leads you there.”

Maya squeezed Jett’s hand and stared into his eyes with concern. “Move swiftly to flee just before the next event.”

“Our ship is at the co-op crews’ landing site,” Bach added.

Jett nodded. “I saw you land.”

*****

Bach, Star, Maya, and the animals made it to the Alpha without incident. Star led Maya to the E-module, then secured the animals while Bach readied for takeoff and watched the monitor for Jett.

But when a worrisome length of time had passed with no sign of Jett on the monitor, Bach feared something had gone wrong. An adrenaline rush propelled him from his seat. “Jett’s in trouble, Star. I’m going back for him.”

She grabbed his arm. “You don’t stand a chance against all those natives. Enlarge the view area on the monitor. He might be coming in a different way.”

Star was right. Jett had zigzagged through the jungle, and now, like a track star with angry competitors on his heels, neared Alpha on a different footpath. Jett bellowed Bach’s and Star’s names from an eighth of a mile away, and a minute later let out a war cry as he raced up the ramp.

Star fired the thrusters and pointed to a wall alcove. “Strap down there, Jett.”

Spears and arrows glanced off of Alpha’s hull as Bach lifted her off.

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

With Alpha flying on auto, Bach added Maya’s and Jett’s names to the roster. Obbo and Ivy, the short statured couple from mystical planet Gihon, came to the flight deck just as they said they would. Obbo paced with excitement. “Can’t wait to watch and learn. Can’t wait. We’ve been in the E-pod too long and have explored everything and welcomed the newest arrivals.”

Bach helped the two onto the bench seat. “There’s not much we can show you right now. The ship’s programmed to fly itself.” He got up and stood behind them. “Slide over here into the pilot’s seat and see what it’s like to fly the ship. Just don’t touch anything.”

The huge control panel loomed like a mountain in front of Ivy and Obbo. Unable to see out, they sat up as high as they could and watched the viewscreens. The two questioned Bach on the function of dozens of devices, then pretended to fly the ship.

“Where to go? Where to go?” said Obbo.

“Somewhere from never before. Never before,” Ivy replied, enthralled.

“Never been anywhere before. Never before,” he said, chuckling.

Bach spoke from behind the mock pilots, “Earlier, when we took the long way around, we lost time. We’re farther from Shushan than we should be … have some catching up to do, but it gives me time for a little nap.” He leaned over Star’s shoulder. “The ship’s on inertial guidance. I’ll be in a hammock.”

“You’ll sleep better in a privacy room.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, but in there I’d probably never wake up. Better stay out here in a hammock.”

Star enjoyed Ivy and Obbo’s playful banter as they monitored the flight data indicators and rattled off statistics to each other. She commented over her shoulder, “You certainly caught on fast.”

“Love it, love it.” Obbo chortled with glee.

“Just remember,” Star added, “the Kingship is programmed to fly by itself, so don’t touch anything.”

The passageway door slid open and Urich and Rain entered the main cabin, giggling and holding hands like typical newlyweds. Urich headed to the cockpit. “Star, is there anything we can help with on this mission?”

“Thanks for asking,” she said, “but our plans keep changing as we go.” She hoisted the travel journal from its slot, “Let’s see what our next planet, Shushan, has in store.”

“Oh, let me read it,” Rain said. “There wasn’t much to read on my planet and I love to read and learn.”

“Great. I’ll take a little break.” Star handed the journal to Rain, then settled into a hammock near Bach at mid ship.

Rain caressed the book’s pages with her hands. Just touching the written words seemed to bring her pleasure. With Urich at her side, she began reading about Shushan. In a few minutes, the story of cold weather and inhabitants with similar characteristics intrigued Obbo and Ivy and they stepped away from the flight deck to hear more. Rain’s deep, full voice pouring over the words held everyone’s interest.

Obbo touched Rain’s arm. “You just read something about similar characteristics of Shushan’s people. What does that mean?”

She looked back at the page. “It doesn’t say.”

“And you read about cold.” Urich added. “I don’t understand what cold would be like.”

“One time I saw cold in my crystal ball,” Ivy interjected. “A vision. Something solid falling through the air, tiny white fluffs drifting down. Drifting, drifting, more and more, piling higher, higher.” Her voice grew dramatic and intense, and fluttering hands punctuated her speech. “Turning vicious … swirling, blowing, pounding the land. Things shriveled, animals froze, then….”

“Then? Then what?” Urich asked.

“My globe cleared.”

“What’s a globe?”

“A crystal ball. I brought one … want to see?”

“Oh, no,” Urich said, as if issuing a warning. “Sounds bad. I don’t want to see it.”

Rain interrupted, “Oh, here. I found something in the log. It says, ‘Experimentation by the Ultimate World altered their genetic code, creating similar characteristics.’” She looked over at Star, who was slumped sideways, fast asleep. “Our leaders are getting much-needed rest.”

Urich tapped on the journal to get Rain’s attention. “What does Shushan contribute to the co-op exchange? If it’s cold there all the time, what could survive?”

“It says water is their main product. ‘It’s purity and clarity is like no other.’ They also provide fish and animals.” She read on, “‘Dura’s crews taught Shushan’s residents to operate simple mechanical devices. They continue to provide improved energy sources for power, light, and heat.’” She closed the journal. “That’s it.”

Rain returned the log to the cockpit as Obbo followed along. “Rain, Rain, an interesting name. Why is it Rain?” he asked.

“My name? My mother died on the day of my birth and the sky opened up and wept, pouring forth rain needed for twenty phases. It is said that my birth holds a special connection to the Creator and his gift of rain. Our family totem is a star embraced by a water droplet.”

At the mention of rain, something tapped against the Kingship’s metal hull. The craft’s speed decreased significantly, but no one was at the controls. Urich jumped up and looked out the windows with Rain, Ivy, and Obbo alongside.

A funnel of hail swirled around the ship, and the windows iced over before their eyes, plunging the cabin into near darkness. Alarms bonged and lights flashed in the cockpit as the four rushed to roust the dead-to-the-world pilots from their sleep.

Ivy jostled Star.

Obbo tugged at Bach’s feet. “Up, up, doom is near.”

Half awake, Bach’s subconscious processed the machine-gun-like noise. That’s not random tinks like when space debris collides. This is coming hard, and faster by the second.

“Hurry, Bach,” Urich pled, “something terrible’s happening.”

With bells and buzzers sounding, Bach raced to the controls. “An ice storm with hail; a comet’s tail!” he snorted. “We’re not pre-programmed to handle anything this sudden or fierce. Hurry everyone, back into the E-module.”

Star analyzed a glut of stats scrolling down a laser screen. “What’s going on? We’re in airspace above planet Shushan. How did we get here? We haven’t been airborne long enough to have come this far.”

Bach focused on the electro-brain panel. “This is crazy. It’s like we just cut the middle out of the trip.”

Star shook her head as if trying to clear cobwebs from her brain. “It’s not feasible!”

“We’ll figure it out later,” he said. “We gotta get through this ice storm. The whole planet’s surrounded. Defrost system’s on full bore, but it’s coming so fast it’s replacing what was defrosted.”

“Data shows we’re right where we should be to set down at the co-op crews’ site, and the engine de-icing system’s working,” she said. “Let’s descend through it and land.”

“Not sure we should try that,” Bach replied.

“We don’t have enough time or fuel to leave and come back.”

With his attention split between warning lights and Star’s challenge to land in a whiteout, Bach said, “Let her hover, I have an idea.” He grabbed a toolbox and climbed onto the cockpit bench seat. Holding onto an overhead rack, he removed a foot-square wall panel and, as if he had thought it all out beforehand, gingerly pulled out a tray of electrical equipment. He picked through a tangle of wires that looked like a serving of spaghetti then, as tense as a bomb squad technician, loosened several screws. Five minutes passed while he rearranged parts, but to Bach every minute seemed an hour. Blinking nervous sweat from his eyes, he left the strange conglomeration hanging outside the original tray and hopped off the bench rubbing his hands together. “Okay, Shushan, comin’ at ya!”

Star stared at the circuit boards and wires dangling from the device. “What did you do to that component?”

“Made a tactical adjustment … and prayed.”

“What kind of tactical adjustment?”

“Put the lasers on broad beam and boosted voltage.”

“So they’ll burn a path for us?”

He pointed to the porthole. “Look out.”

“I don’t see anything.”

He turned on external running lights. “Look again.”

“I see it! A clearing. We’re cutting a path straight through the ice storm.”

“Yeah, and probably terrifying everyone on the planet.”

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A gentle landing through the treacherous storm calmed the Alphamates’ nerves, but when they stepped outside, an ambush of blizzard-driven hail slammed against their spacesuits, and gnawing winds tried to lift them from their feet. Even with the E-suits and headgear it was plain that Shushan’s thermostat was set at stun.

With brittle, knee-deep, ice-coated snow crunching like broken glass beneath their boots, Bach grumbled and swiped his glove across his visor. “I can’t keep my headgear clear long enough to see where I’m going.”

Star held fast to her partner’s arm to steady against the vicious wind. “Everything’s blanketed in ice. Should we go back and wait until this lets up?”

“Not yet.”

With visibility near zero, they walked through the white-walled unknown for what seemed a half-mile without knowing what lay ahead. Random glimpses of snow-covered mounds and grotesque, ice-glazed rocks left plenty to the imagination. Star looked into the raging blizzard, raised her hands, and pled as if speaking to the Creator, “Help, we can’t find our way.”

No sooner had she cried out than the brutal wind tapered off and gave way to huge, lofty snowflakes floating down like feathers from above.

Bach stared at her. “Boy, someone up there likes you. Are all your requests answered on the spot?”

He didn’t see her satisfied smile behind her snow-covered headgear. “Only the important ones.”

The bleak, bitter-cold surroundings took on a fantasy look as the gentle snowfall and beams of light breaking through made it seem as if a band of winter sprites had danced across the land, frosting everything with shimmery icicles and turning evergreens into ice castles.

“It’s beautiful, but way too cold,” Bach said.

“And no signs of anything or anyone,” Star added. “But who’d be out in weather like this anyway?”

“Crazies like us.” He dipped down and picked up a gloveful of snow, scrunched it into a snowball, dropped back, then scored a direct hit on her backside.

She gasped in surprise and brushed herself off with a confused stare.

Eyes riveted to his target, grin not showing behind his headgear, Bach scooped another handful. His second effort splattered off Star’s knees in a spray of white.

Her hesitation quickly gave way to a childlike squeal as she dove for a handful of snow and returned fire with a wad that disintegrated before impact.

Bach laughed out loud and sauntered to his crewmate’s side. “This,” he said, squeezing snow into a ball and bouncing it up and down in his hand with a mischievous grin, “is a snowball. And it’s time you had a lesson in the joys and perils of snowball fighting.” He stockpiled an arsenal for Star’s use, then darted away and knelt to ready his own stash.

Whap! Whap! One snowball after another plastered the unprepared victim. Star howled with delight at her marksmanship.

Bach’s return fire launched a dozen snow missiles in her direction.

Star rallied with a furious barrage. One splatted full-force onto Bach’s faceplate.

With the unexpected yowl of a wounded animal, he staggered about with arms groping, then flopped to the ground and went still as a stone.

She stared for a moment then called out, “Bach?”

No answer.

She rushed to him calling, “Bach? Bach! Are you okay?”

No sound or movement.

Horrified, she whispered, “What have I done? I didn’t know they were dangerous.” She knelt at his side, cradled his head on her lap and brushed the snow from his faceplate. His eyes were closed and his mouth open in a zero expression. Holding him close, she rocked back and forth. “Oh, Bach. I’m so sorry … I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She looked around for help and started to get up. “I’ll find help.”

“Gotcha,” he growled, wrestling her to the ground and piling snow on her flailing body.

Her shriek, cough, and gasp for breath all came at once. When her enchanting blue eyes opened, Bach’s handsome face was inches from hers—separated by the transparent headgear. For a moment in time, through softly falling snow, they gazed at each other with unspoken affection.

Grappling with the attraction, Bach sprang to his feet, grabbed a fistful of snow, and made one final toss.

Laughing, Star fired a torrent of snowballs in his direction. “Meanie.” She stopped suddenly and turned around. “Listen. Do you hear something … like a motor?”

He lifted his headgear slightly. “A hum. Something electrical.”

The veil of snow concealed distant objects, but the sound carried through the crisp air and gave them a direction to follow to the left. About a quarter mile ahead where everything was crystal-coated and white, a tiny halo of yellow light flickered with the motor’s hum. They picked up the pace and hurried toward the sound, but a minute later the motor died, the light went out, and the vision faded away.

“Keep looking at that spot, there’s someone there,” Bach said.

They hastened onward, and little by little, a two-story brick building came into view.

“That’s the supply station built for the co-op exchanges,” Star said.

As they neared the building, Bach noticed what looked like a community of igloos beyond the supply station. He pointed it out to Star. “A residential area.”

“Ice houses, like the one in the E-module,” she said.

He laughed. “Ice houses? Or … igloos?”

*****

Bach and Star entered the darkened supply station where four couples were huddled in a circle on the cluttered floor bartering furs by lamplight. The traders didn’t seem to notice the new arrivals, and a shopkeeper hurrying around lighting oil lamps said nothing. Bach had expected to see Eskimos, but instead found the “remarkable resemblance” spelled out in the journal’s notes manifest in the residents as common round faces with downturned eyes, and plump bodies with small hands and feet, like people on Earth with Down syndrome.

Star crouched beside the fur traders. “Do you have severe storms here often?” The preoccupied men and women didn’t answer. She took off her headgear and stood with Bach. “I wish they’d talk to us.”

The shopkeeper moved toward the Alphamates with an empty lantern. “First our power went down, then generators ran out of fuel in the storm. Wish I could get more fuel from Rooks.”

Bach stopped him. “Fuel from Rooks? Dura provides your fuel—we made those generators.”

“Rooks take your fuel, give us better.”

“The Rooks take our fuel? Do you know when they’re coming back?”

“Don’t know.” The man hurried off and added logs to three fireplaces.

Bach gnashed his teeth. “That irks me about the Rooks trading their fuel for ours. They think they’ll find something of benefit in our standard fuel, but they won’t.”

Star changed the subject. “I hope they find fuel soon. Those fireplaces won’t keep this big store warm for long.”

The bartering couples displayed their furs and blankets on the floor as Bach watched from above. There seemed little chance of finding a symbol on their dark, unadorned clothing. But minutes later when one of the couples spread their pelts side by side in a circular pattern, Bach motioned for Star to have a look.

“Only three lines intersecting,” she whispered.

Bach crouched down and waited for a lull in the traders’ haggling. “We’re looking for…” he motioned for Star to bend down, then pointed to the symbol formed by her necklaces, “something that looks like this. Have you seen this symbol anywhere?”

All shook their heads.

A door swung open in the rear of the building and a short, stocky woman with pale skin and long blond hair came from the back room. She walked right up to Bach and Star. “I wish to serve you warm drinks, but power is out. Tobit trying to find more fuel.”

“Tobit?” Bach asked.

The woman motioned toward the dark-haired male shopkeeper. “My mate.” She turned to walk away, but Star stopped her.

“Where will you go if Tobit doesn’t find fuel? You can’t stay here. It will turn cold quickly.”

The woman replied, “We will stay with friends in their igloo.”

Relieved to learn that the shopkeepers had alternate shelter, Star had more to ask. “I know there are long periods of dark and light on Shushan,” she said to the lady. “The sky is bright now, but I feel like it should be late. Is this your early or late time?”

“It is late.”

“When will the others come out of their homes? We need to talk to them.”

The woman shook her head. “Most are sleeping. Storm halted fishing—even fishermen sleep now.”

Tobit motioned to the traders to gather their furs from the floor and waved his hand at Bach at the same time. “Come back tomorrow, everyone. Time to go home. No power, closing time for Zerah and me.”

Star picked up her headgear and looked at Bach. “We’ll have to go door to door for our search.”

He sighed, then shook his head. “And it’s their bedtime.”

They left the store and traveled over mounds and moguls on the way to the igloo community. An off-key song drifted from under Bach’s headgear. “Oh, where, oh, where, can our hope symbol be?”

Nearing the igloos, Bach noticed movement a few yards ahead. A large ice-block door slid outward on one home and a man and woman emerged with several bags of trash, which they deposited into a holding compartment. “Let’s go,” Bach yelped to Star as he ran ahead and called out, “Wait. Stop. How long will everyone sleep?”

“We sleep until the bells,” the woman said. Her frosty breath almost obscured her face.

“Bells? What kind of bells? Church bells?” asked Bach.

“Just bells.”

“Are there church services somewhere?”

The pair entered their igloo and the man replied, “No more.” He pulled the ice block into the opening behind them.

Bach sat on a snow mound and glanced around. “We have to find out about the bells. When are they rung and what happens next?”

The silent, cold, igloo community, and the frigid planet’s all-white environment, stifled any hope of finding a symbol.

“Sure wish someone else would come out,” he said. “I don’t want to wake them all.”

Star stepped onto an icy mound to look beyond the igloos. “The only thing around is the supply station. But remember the lady said that the storm halted the fishing? Now that the worst is over, maybe the fishermen will be out again. Let’s look for a lake.”

The door of another igloo slid open and a gloved hand set an empty lantern outside. Bach ran ahead and rushed to the igloo. “Wait! We need your help.” He got on his hands and knees in front of the door. Star knelt beside him. A man peered out, and a woman looked over his shoulder. Bach pointed to the crossed-circle formed by Star’s pendants. “Do you know anyone with something that looks like this?”

“No,” said the man, looking at his mate as if to ask her the question. She shook her head, and the two backed inside and slid the door closed.

“Wait!” Bach banged hard on the ice door with his gloved fist. “Where can we find the lake? I know there’s a lake somewhere.”

Muffled words seeped through the thick walls. “Go to supply station.”

“We’ve been to the supply station.”

There was no reply.

“That must be the central meeting place,” Star said. “Maybe they’ll gather there after they wake up. Let’s head back and look for a lake as we go.”

Halfway back to the supply station, Bach pointed out what looked like a partially frozen lake off to the left. The two scrambled over dozens of moguls, but as they neared, the image blended in with the surroundings. What had seemed a smooth, dark lake was nothing more than a crater and shadows at play. Bach grumbled, “A mirage!”

From the frosty quiet emerged a distant sound of hammers or axes striking a hard surface. Within seconds the number of strikes doubled, then tripled. Bach and Star followed the hammering sound and arrived at a frozen lake a few yards in front of the supply station. There, a dozen fishermen shoveled snow, chopped holes in the ice, and set up their fishing huts.

Bach shook his head, complaining. “The lake was right there, frozen and covered with snow. We just didn’t see it.”

Wasting no time, they shuffled across the frozen lake to the first hut where a little man with a furry hood pulled tightly around his face had made a hole in the ice. Star noticed four pie-shaped ice chips floating within the circle. “May we watch for a while?” she asked.

“Catching food for the co-op,” the round-faced man replied.

Star crouched near the hole for a better look, but before she spoke, the man grabbed the floating ice pieces and flung them across the lake. “Not a good spot. No fish.”

Bach let out a huff. “No fish, no symbol.” Nearby, a little man with an iced-over moustache pulled on his empty fishing line and complained to himself. Bach encouraged him. “You’ll catch something soon.”

The loud ignition of a motor at the supply station drowned out the man’s reply. Everyone jerked around to look at the same time. A bright light from the building’s second-floor window illuminated the frost-tinged air.

The fisherman shook his fist at the building. “Too much noise. No fish.”

Bach looked on in disbelief. “How’d they get that generator going without fuel?” he asked Star.

“The Rooks couldn’t have come and left without our knowing,” she answered.

“Maybe Rooks are living here, with fuel. Something’s not right.” At the same time, he saw the symbol of hope projected onto the ice from the supply station’s window. He led Star forward with his arm around her waist and pointed near the roof to the round window with four triangular panes. Bach beat hard on the supply station door. “Open up!” As he rapped and yelled repeatedly, foggy spurts of warm breath spewed from under his headgear. “Star, what are the shopkeeper’s names? I can’t recall.”

“The man is Tobit, the woman’s name, I can’t think of.”

Bach pounded harder. “Tobit, please open up. We’re here from the Creator.” Then he partially remembered the lady’s name. “Her name is something with a Z.”

“Zerah,” Star offered.

Rustling sounds came from inside before the big door swung open. Tobit bounced around the store, filled with excitement. “Something happened. Generator started working by itself. Fuel was gone. We packed our bags, getting ready to leave for the night. It came on by itself.”

“A sign from our Creator,” Star said. “We’re here to find those with a symbol—like the one in your window. You must come with us.”

“Yes, the Creator speaks,” Zerah said.

“Hurry,” Bach urged. “But we still need animals. Where can we get animals from Shushan?”

Tobit looked at Bach in confusion. “Animals? It’s time for sleep. Animals will not come.”

“Do they come here? How do you get them to come?”

“They come for the waking. Fishers leave parts of their catches for animals’ food.”

“Where?”

“Far side of lake.”

“We have to wait until everyone wakes up?” Bach asked. “That’s too long. We have to go now!”

“Animals know to come for the wake-up bells,” Zerah said.

Star’s eyes widened and she looked at Bach. “The bells the others talked about.” She took Zerah’s hand. “Where are the bells? Who rings them?”

“I ring them.”

“Can you ring them now? Maybe the animals will think it’s time to wake and they’ll come now.”

“Everyone will rise,” Tobit complained.

“It’s the only chance we have to get the animals,” Bach said. “Ring the bells.”

Shaking her head, Zerah climbed a staircase to a belfry. She called back from over the top railing, “Are you sure I must do this?”

“Yes,” Bach replied.

The clanging bells had swung back and forth a half-dozen times when five fishermen stormed into the supply station shouting, “No bells! Not waking time; scaring the fish.”

Bach escorted the men back outside. “The bells will stop soon.” He yelled to the others on the ice-covered lake, “The storm caused a problem. Stay there, keep fishing.”

Tobit and Zerah’s bags were already packed, but Tobit added another bag with goods from the supply station. As soon as Zerah came from the belfry, they fled with Bach and Star. Alpha was in the perfect spot for the animals’ arrival at the back of the lake. The four neared the ship to the sight of a variety of beasts lumbering, scampering, running, and flying toward them. Star opened the ramp with the remote and, with Zerah and Tobit’s help, guided the animals inside to their module.

Bach didn’t make it all the way to the ramp. He stopped alongside the big ship, which was camouflaged by twenty inches of snow, wondering if the extra weight might cause a problem at liftoff. At the same time, he got a surprising revelation. Heat from the running lights had thawed a vertical swath on the ship’s metal hull, exposing the beginning letter on each painted word of ALtemus Rider’s Kingship. The downward message read, ARK. Amazed, he wondered was this planned or a prophecy? He got Star from inside and led her to the side of the ship. “Look.” He pointed and shuffled around with restless energy.

She stared.

“Do you see something awesome?” he asked.

“I see Alpha covered in snow.”

“No,” he said. “Look again, what else?”

“There’s nothing else. Am I supposed to look at the ship?”

“Yes,” he replied, unable to stand still.

She waited a few seconds. “I see Alpha, covered with snow. I see the running lights, working fine, and I see where the lights melted a patch of snow and ice.”

“Yes, yes,” he prodded.

“Bach, what’s wrong with you?”

He huffed, shook his head, and folded his arms across his chest for a moment. Then the confused look in Star’s blue eyes made sense. “Oh, Star, I’m sorry. You wouldn’t know about the ark, it’s an earth thing, you couldn’t know. I was so excited about my discovery, I wanted to share it with you.”

“Ark? The letters a-r-k mean something?”

His smile lit up. “Yeah, they mean something. There’s a story about a mission like ours planned by the Creator. I’ll tell you about it when we get a quiet moment.” He took one last look and talked to himself, “I don’t believe this.”

*****

Inside the ship at the flight deck, Bach spoke into a voice-activated computer and recorded planet Shushan’s search details. While struggling to put into words the discovery of Alpha becoming the Ark, it dawned on him why Altemus had painted a capital letter L after the A. “Star,” he motioned her to his side, “I think I figured it out why Altemus painted the large letter L after the A. He was painting the name ALPHA on the ship and had the first two letters painted when the enemy arrived. So he painted his own name as a ploy and what should have been the Alpha, became Altemus Rider’s Kingship with the capital L.”

“I bet you’re right,” she said.

“Why don’t we call our ship the Ark? It’s fitting and prophetic.”

She nodded. “And now we’ll be Arkmates, with a great group of Arkriders in the modules.”

“Arkmates and Arkriders, perfect!” He cranked up the heaters with a grin. “Boy, this heat feels good.”

“And it’s good to be out of the E-suits and headgear.”

“And all that cold weather.” He sang a little song, “Shushan … is like a constant … three-dog night.”

“Three-dog night? Is that another Ravens’ oddity?”

“No.” He laughed. “It’s an old saying. On Earth, dogs are domestic animals that people keep as pets … like you keep wurrs. Years ago on my home planet during winter weather, before electricity for heat, people piled on blankets and slept together to stay warm. They even took pets to bed as a source of warmth, and to also keep them from freezing. A three-dog night was a bitter cold one—they’d need at least three dogs in bed to stay warm.”

“My wurrs sleep with me,” she said.

He chuckled. “That would be a two-wurr night. And you and Lotus and Arro wouldn’t last long on a cold planet like Shushan.”

She shook her head. “But Tobit and Zerah are happy with their onboard igloo. All the Arkriders are doing great. And, the animals have adjusted with no problems. A bonus is the time we picked up en route to Shushan. I haven’t figured that one out yet.”

“Me neither, but being closer to schedule is a big help.”

While Star readied for liftoff, Bach began bobbing up and down and playfully snapping his fingers in rhythm. He burst into a homemade song, “Oh, Troas, await our arrival, and please make it easy for us, we’ve been hot, cold, threatened and hungry, and are weary on this old sky bus.”

The Ark rumbled through frigid air with Bach singing and Star giggling.

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

During the lengthy flight to Troas, Bach immersed himself in a little personal research. Busy with a hand-held computer, he didn’t see Star approach the flight deck with a lunch tray. She sat beside him and lifted the device from his hands. “Time to take a break.”

He leaned back and stretched. “I’m contemplating the universe.”

“And?”

“The Creator’s realm is more far reaching than I had ever imagined. I’ve been dissecting theories of parallel universes.”

“It’s a fascinating premise.”

“I may never know for sure, but it’s awe-inspiring to think about. What I’ve experienced since leaving Earth surpasses comprehension. Parallel universes, mirror universes. What do you think?”

She smiled and pointed to the food. “I think you need to take a lunch break.”

He nodded and picked up a crispy, flat green triangle. “Mmmm. Space cuisine. Looks like you’re a good cook. Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No. None of them lived past their first meal,” she deadpanned.

Bach hooted.

“Now, back to your question about additional universes. I’ve never seen hard data to substantiate the theory,” she said. “But the Specter’s paranormal appearance stirred an awareness of possible life forms elsewhere in space.”

“I don’t get it,” Bach said. “If he’s another life form from somewhere in space, wouldn’t others of his kind come here too? Or try to find out why he never came back?”

“Good questions.”

“Do you think he was evil from the start, or just someone with the mental capabilities to act on a thirst for power and dominance?”

Star didn’t answer right away. “Shortly after he appeared, the thoughts and emotions of many Durans began deteriorating. We looked for a cause and tied it to the Specter’s paranormal abilities. Data captured from his energy aura indicated a latent evil nature.”

Bach’s sigh seemed a pressure valve release. “I wish the Creator had given me instructions for what to do when we get back to Dura. In his presence I lost focus of everything but him. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t even ask about my crewmates. It’s killing me not knowing where they are and what’s happening to them.”

“The Creator is in control.”

“I know, but I can’t shake an odd feeling.”

She studied his face. “About our mission, or afterward?”

“I’m not sure. But when our countrymen and the enemy find out that Altemus is gone, you know that things will change on Jenesis. I wonder what we’ll find when we get back.”

“No one in Dura could know about this mission yet, or that Dad is gone. But the Specter does. So, on our way home, I’ll configure a communications link tie-in with Dura’s internal transmissions. If anything’s wrong there, we’ll know before our arrival.”

Bach nodded. “Good idea. I don’t want to have to fly this big ship out of there in a hurry.”

“Where would we go with all the Arkriders and animals?”

“We could get to Earth with this technology, but we’d need more fuel, and I’d have to find my crewmates first. I won’t leave them behind.”

“Are you having a little stress-induced anxiety?” she asked. “Everything will be fine.”

“It’s more than anxiety. The Creator gave me seventeen days to complete this mission and we’re two days behind.”

Star gathered the lunch leftovers and headed to the galley. “I’m confident that we’ll return to Jenesis according to the timetable. In the meantime, think about all the wonderful people we’ve picked up, and their diverse skills. I believe that, over time, the talents of all these faithful people working together to improve planet Jenesis will bring about the downfall of the Specter and his Rooks.”

Bach spoke softly so Star wouldn’t hear. “I just hope we don’t have to get out of there fast.”

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY

Bach piloted the Ark by instrument readings through Troas’s fog-filled atmosphere. Once beyond the haze with the planet in view, his expectancy short-circuited. “Whoa!” he shouted. “Look at that! There’s no color. Everything’s black and white! It looks like something from an old-time movie.”

“It’s a colorless planet,” Star advised, looking at a viewscreen image of black, white, and shades of gray draped in a ghostly silver mist. “It happened over time.”

“Colorless?” he mumbled.

Suddenly she cried out, “No, no!” and tapped on the keyboard with her eyes glued to the viewpanel.

Bach slid in beside her and took over. He enlarged the image and his breath stopped for a moment. Colorful shards of a wrecked co-op ship lay scattered like confetti on the grayscale planet. A second ship nearby was unharmed.

Star stared at the monitor, hardly able to speak. “One of our ships … crashed.”

“The Rooks!” Bach pounded his fist on the console.

She computerized an aerial scan. “There’s no Rook ship on the planet or airborne.”

“Then they were here and left.”

Upon landing, the two hurried for a firsthand look from aft ship. Seeing the co-op ship’s remnants, Star choked on emotion. “One of Dura’s crews must be dead….”

Bach feared the worst. Struggling with his own feelings, he pulled Star close and tried to stay focused.

“My countrymen, my friends,” she whispered.

“Maybe they’re okay.”

She found relief in tears. “They couldn’t have lived through a wreck like that.”

He knew she was right, but had a troubling question. “Why would two co-op ships be here at the same time?”

Head shaking, she said, “They’d never be out at the same time.” Trembling, she whispered, “I didn’t expect we’d ever face anything like this.”

“Me neither.”

Star stepped from Bach’s embrace, wiping her eyes on the way to the cockpit to scan the area one more time.

Bach stuck his face close to the viewport. “I’m going out. Open the ramp.”

Star swallowed the lump in her throat and let the ramp down.

Thoughts racing, Bach set foot onto Troas as if entering a vandalized graveyard. Two Durans may be dead. Who were they and why did they crash? He examined the ruins but found no bodies in the wreckage or on the ground. Star waited just inside the Ark’s door. “I can’t tell what happened,” he said on returning. “I hope they’re still alive. Let’s head out and see what we can find.”

“The atmosphere here is continuously semi-dark,” she advised. “Inhabitants can’t tolerate bright light.”

The landing site was bordered by five trails fanning into a misty gray forest of black trees and withered vegetation. None looked more heavily traveled than the others. Bach stared at the colorless roads then turned to Star with a strange look on his face. “What an odd sensation … like someone staring at me … taunting me to choose wisely.”

“Yes, I feel someone watching.”

He walked around and looked down the roads. “I don’t see anyone, and from what little I can see through the fog, none seems a better choice. All seem to go nowhere.”

Contemplating which trail to take, the Arkmates’ mind game unwound further when a huge creature flew from beyond the surrounding woods. The all-white stallion landed nearby, folded its massive wings against its body, and raced forward with a clamber of hooves. Stopping just yards from the pair, it reared skittishly then spread its wings and flew down the middle road. Sparkling silver dust swirled in its wake as it disappeared into the mist.

Bach had to catch his breath. “A pegasus! We told stories about them on Earth. A real pegasus!”

“His name is … Pegasus?” She looked down the center trail. “Let’s follow him.”

*****

Bach and Star walked the foggy middle path for a distance, but never saw the winged horse again. As they neared a large, sloping hill, both heard sounds coming from the other side.

“Listen,” Star said.

Bach nodded. “It’s not people or animals.” He stopped for a moment. “It’s music. Let’s climb up and see who’s over there.”

They looked from the crest of the hill into a shallow valley below where music came from an amphitheater shaped like a giant half-open clamshell. A crowd of four hundred or more spectators had gathered for a concert on the hill’s slope—the closest sitting less than ten yards away.

On the stage, a symphony orchestra played heavy classical music. As the tempo quickened, the audience reacted with choreographed hand movements.

“I sure didn’t expect anything like this,” Bach whispered.

“Me neither,” Star replied. “It’s interesting that all the women are in white clothing, and the men in black.”

In the midst of the solemn, yet passionate concert, Bach suddenly noticed that everyone there had white hair and pale skin. “Even the people lack color,” he said in amazement. Then he whispered as he walked, “We also have people on Earth with white hair and pink-colored eyes, Albinos.”

“Pink eyes would be light-intolerant, so it may be best that the planet is not bright.” She looked down the hill. “Oh, I hope our crews are okay.” She let out a small yelp and grabbed onto Bach. “Look! There they are!” she pointed to an area alongside the clamshell stage. “See, there’s Nova’s red hair and Griffon’s brown hair.”

The Arkmates hurriedly wound their way behind the crowd and inched down the hill.

“They’re standing so still,” she said.

“Something reverent’s going on.”

As they neared Griffon and Nova, the music intensified and the audience rose to its feet in a wave of black and white motion. Then all uncovered glowing glass orbs and held them above their heads. The softball-sized jars twinkled inside with captive fireflies, giving a warm glow to the colorless hillside.

The tone of the event grew more intense, and in what seemed slow motion, two huge white drapes on stage opened to reveal floor-to-ceiling glass boxes containing thousands more twinkling fireflies.

Bach and Star arrived alongside Griffon and Nova, and Star hugged Nova. “I’m so glad we found you. Where’s our other crew?”

Nova pulled away and put her finger to her lips. Her eyes were moist. “Shhh! Can’t speak now.”

Bach persisted. “The wrecked co-op ship….”

“Shhh!”

The concert stopped, and the audience parted to clear an aisle. Two ceremonial leaders in long black robes marched down the embankment from a shrine on the hill. They carried glowing silver staffs to light their path to the stage.

After retrieving two polished white urns from a table, the leaders placed them center stage. Then the orchestra resumed as the men grasped the trailing ends of long black scarves suspended from the rafters. When the music climaxed, the leaders pulled the sashes and the air came alive with whistling percussion from the wings of a hundred white doves set free. The birds flew high above the hillside, hovered like a cloud, then vanished into the hazy sky. The leaders descended the stage and the crowd dispersed. Many wept.

Nova turned to Star and hugged her. “What are you two doing here?”

Bach spoke at the same time. “What’s going on? We saw the crashed ship. Who crashed? Are they okay?”

Griffon draped his arm over Bach’s shoulder and moved him forward with the crowd. It took a moment for him to reply. “Reno and Elan crashed yesterday.”

Star stopped, in shock and whispered to herself, “Reno and Elan.”

“This is a service in their honor before we take their remains back to Dura for burial,” Griffon added.

“Burial?” Bach’s mind drifted back to the night in Dura’s party facility when he first met Elan, the pretty mystery lady, and when his newfound buddy, Reno, rescued him from scheming Lavender Rose. He found it hard to accept that he’d just attended Reno and Elan’s memorial service.

“Why are you here?” Nova asked again. “Everyone thinks you’re in the Ultimate World. Things are tense between Dura and Ulwor. A war could break out.”

Griffon glanced at Bach. “And where’s Altemus? Is he with you?”

Bach didn’t want to tell him, but he had no other believable story. “Altemus won’t be back.”

Griffon pulled him aside and searched his face. “Altemus left a note that said—”

“The note was a temporary solution to a complicated problem.”

Star let it out all at once. “Dad’s dead. The Rooks tried to abduct him and he brought them down in the death lake.”

Griffin gasped, “No!” and looked at Nova’s stunned face.

No one spoke as the foursome solemnly followed the crowd toward a residential area. Then Griffon dashed a few steps out and looked back at Star and Bach. “What are you doing on Troas? How did you get here?”

Bach thought for a moment, wondering how much to share. “We’re on a confidential expedition. I can’t discuss it now. But you and Nova must not tell anyone what you know about Altemus, or that you saw us here.”

Nova spoke up. “You know we’ll keep your confidence, Bach, but we’re brokenhearted over Altemus’s death.”

Bach added, “And regarding how we got here, Griffon, we restored the earthships.”

Griffon walked backwards and stared. “You’re flying that old three-piece relic?”

“Yes, we rebuilt it.” Bach moved alongside Griffon and quickened the pace. “Griffon, we need your help. We’re behind on the time set for this mission, and we have to retrieve certain things to take back to Dura. How well do you know Troas?”

“Things on Troas are slow going. Nothing’s motorized, and everyone travels on two- or three-wheeled cycles. There’s one big residential area, and they have no artificial light. They’re on the outer fringes of the daystars’ ranges … where they receive just enough heat and low levels of light. The fireflies generate one type of illumination the people here can tolerate. But fireflies are dying off. People have health problems and they can barely keep vegetation alive.”

Nova added, “There was no pollution before, then the enemy set up labs on the planet’s back side. He’s tested war weapons here—below and above ground. Deadly emissions—the sand, the water, all contaminated. Underground faults have broken down from the constant detonations.”

“What’s left to share in the co-op?” Star asked.

“Nothing here,” Griffon replied. “But the people have great scientific skills, so the Specter exploits their talents, applying them to deadly chemical and bacteriological experiments. That’s how Reno and Elan crashed. Thousands of birds didn’t live up to the Specter’s research expectations so he released them in a fit of rage. The sky was filled with crazed birds that died slow, agonizing deaths. Birds clogged the control thrusters in Reno and Elan’s ship. That’s what brought them down. We lost two of our best.”

Bach looked at Star. “Remember back in the ship when Ivy warned about many wings? This has to be what she foresaw.”

Griffon continued, “And children are missing. The Specter might be taking them to the Ultimate World to train for his army.”

Nova added, “Little by little, they’re disappearing from every planet.”

“Yes, we’ve heard that too,” Star said. “We must quickly investigate.”

“We’ll launch a surveillance watch when we take Reno’s and Elan’s remains home for burial,” Nova said, “then come back for any children still here to take them to Dura, and to round up any animals remaining on Troas. We’ll move them to other planets, but we’re not sure they’ll survive there either.”

The four continued toward the residential area, following the reverent crowd through a gray and dreary public park lined with black-leafed trees. In the midst of solemness came the faint sound of harp music.

Star looked around. “What beautiful music.”

Nova pointed to a bramblebush hedge and put her finger to her lips. “The spiders I told you about.”

In the spiky black bushes nearby, glowing in the dark, a network of lacy white spider webs looked like spun sugar draped across the twigs and vines. Dozens of phosphorescent spiders, centered within their silken snares, performed like passionate maestros, their jointed legs skillfully plucking their webs like harp strings.

Music seemingly orchestrated from beyond time and space drifted through the somber air. Bach suddenly recalled Star’s mention of the spiders’ music after he’d talked about his favorite group, the Ravens. For some reason, the phenomenon of real spiders making music by plucking their webs struck him as funny. “The spiders. Not at all what I had expected,” he said, stifling a giggle.

The symphony stopped abruptly.

Nova flagged her hand in front of Bach’s face. “Shhh. You’re interrupting.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re on another planet,” she reminded him.

Bach calmed down, and the arachnids resumed their concert.

Star pressed close to him and whispered, “What did you expect?”

He turned to speak in her ear, but now her intoxicating fragrance added to his wonder and he forgot what he was going to say. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then whispered, “Before, when you mentioned the spiders, I was thinking more like the Ravens.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she said, “your ravens have singing voices.”

He smiled.

“C’mon, let’s go.” Griffon spoke quietly. “The memorial dinner is mandatory. Then we’ll retrieve the remains.”

Star stood back, distracted by something only she heard. Then the others noticed and stopped talking. A faint melody, like jingling bells, delicate timpani percussion, and tiny tinkling cymbals drifted around them. “Where’s it coming from?” she asked.

“The willi,” said Griffon. “Wood nymph percussionists.”

Bach’s eyes widened. “Wood nymphs named Willi play percussion?”

Griffon nodded. “The sounds come when they drop dew onto different objects. Before the deadly rays ravaged everything here, the willis’ music served as meditation and relaxation for the soul.” He sighed. “And when plants and flowers still bloomed, their dew music was even more delightful.”

“I can’t imagine it,” Bach replied.

Nova pointed to a dime-sized insect flying among the black leaves right above their heads. “Look, there’s one!”

The translucent, fairylike willi flitted around, opening and closing its pearly, diaphanous wings like tiny fans while precisely dropping from its hands one silvery bead of liquid at a time in melodic rhythm.

“You’re lucky to see them,” Nova said. “They’re on the verge of extinction. It appears that nature’s musicians are performing tonight to mourn the loss of Reno and Elan.”

As they walked on, Bach moved to Griffon’s side and said in an oddly casual manner, “You know, I find the insects’ musical gifts enchanting. I’m going to stay here for a few more minutes. Star and I will catch up with you at the memorial hall.”

Star gave Bach a peculiar look. “We should go there together and come back here later.”

“I want to stay a little longer, and you should too.” He pulled her to his side and looked at Griffon with a phony grin. “We’ll show up in a few minutes.”

“It’ll be disruptive if you arrive late,” Griffon said.

Bach waved them on. “We’ll be there shortly.”

With Griffon and Nova out of earshot, Star stared at Bach. “What are you doing? We should go where the crowds are to look for the symbol.”

He pointed across the street toward a black and white cottage with a fenced yard. The round iron gate had two intersecting spokes.

They crossed the street for a closer look. “That’s it,” Star said, “but they won’t be home if the memorial dinner is mandatory.”

Bach huffed. “So we have to wait for the event to end?” He looked around and paced. “Then what if one person lives here, and someone else has the other symbol?”

“Let’s go to the dinner and search there too. We can come back later.”

He huffed again. “You’re right.”

As they turned to walk away, a man and woman, both with white hair and pink eyes, stepped forward and blocked their path.

Bach moved toward the man with a smile. “Hi, I’m Bach and this is Star. Do you both live here?”

“Yes.” The man was defensive.

Stammering for a friendly opening line, Bach’s silence played a part in the startup of a new musical concert around the house. Two crickets on the arch over the front door rubbed their prickly legs together making the sound of violins, and on the walkway two rabbits, one black, one white, thumped their hind feet in accompaniment. Nearby, dozens of dangling spiders plucked their silky, harp-like webs, and a chorus of night birds warbled in perfect four-part harmony from the overhang. “Peaceful music for all of us,” Bach said, hoping to calm an uncomfortable situation.

The woman’s gentle face, framed by wispy white hair, matched her delicate voice. “Your presence is celebrated by the Creator’s creatures.”

“We’re humbled,” Bach replied.

The pink-eyed man stared at Star’s eternity circle with the Byzantine cross resting within it. He shook Bach’s hand. “I’m Cyrus and this is Wick,” he said, acknowledging his mate.

“Nice to meet both of you. I’m Bach and this is Star, from Dura.”

Cyrus stepped closer to his front door. “Wick and I came back for a diary filled with stories of Reno and Elan’s travels here. We’re going to read from it at the dinner, then give it to Griffon and Nova to take back to Dura so those stories can live on for future generations.”

The delicate music stopped as Wick unlatched the door and ushered the Arkmates into the colorless cottage. “These insects and animals are like friends to me,” she said. “Their music used to lull our baby to sleep.”

Cyrus found the diary. “First our three sons disappeared, then our new baby died from the poison on this planet. Everything we touch, use, it’s all toxic.”

Bach placed his hand on the man’s back. Nodding with understanding, he said, “We’re here to take you away from all this. The Creator has commissioned us to find those with the symbol that’s on your gate. But we must hurry.”

“Can we take the book to the dinner first?” Cyrus asked.

Star took the diary from his hand. “There’s no time to read it at the dinner, but we can take it back to Dura together.”

Cyrus and Wick rushed to gather personal belongings. “What else should we bring?” he asked.

“We need two of all the animals,” Star said.

“Animals? There are few alive. We have only small ones.” Wick opened the front door. “I’ll bring Weaver and Webber, Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins, and—”

“Her spiders and rabbits,” said Cyrus.

“Yes,” Bach said. “Bring them.”

Cyrus went outside and came back a few minutes later with six hollowed-out logs that served as the animals’ homes; two were five feet long, the others shorter.

Wick waved toward the two crickets, “Honey, grab Schroeder and Gree.”

Cyrus plucked the insect violinists from their post above the door, then placed them, along with the rabbits, a jar of fireflies, spiders, birds, willi, and other small critters, into the logs. The frightened menagerie sounded off inside their makeshift dwellings.

Suddenly an ominous rumble shook the small house, rattling every door and window.

“Quake,” yelled Cyrus.

With their feet bouncing like balls on a polished floor, the four grabbed onto tables and furniture—anything within reach to support themselves. A second, more powerful tremor struck, breaking dishes in the kitchen and toppling books from their shelves.

Outside, the toxic ground shuddered as if the planet retaliated against those who had defiled it for decades.

Cyrus crawled on his knees to Bach, shoved the two longest logs filled with animals into his arms, then slid the shorter ones with insects and tiny animals toward Wick and Star. “This will be a big quake.” He scooped up the last two critter-filled logs and yelled, “There’s been much underground testing.”

The house’s foundation heaved in waves and a putrid odor warmed the air. Bach braced himself inside a doorframe to stabilize his skewed equilibrium, and yelled to the others, “Let’s get going. Stay close together.”

Logs tucked under their arms, and their feet barely touching the ground, the four fled across a land splitting into a road map of caverns, cracks, and chasms.

Running through neighborhoods where houses swayed and crumbled into heaps, and trees toppled like twigs, Star shouted to Bach, “What about Griffon and Nova?”

He yelled back, “They’ll make it to their ship … been here enough to know what to do.”

A sudden black flash near Star’s feet split the land three feet wide and flipped her onto her stomach. She screamed and crawled forward as the ground shifted upward at a steep angle and propelled her, feet-first, toward a developing chasm. Desperately clinging to her critter-filled log with one hand, she grabbed onto the rise of splitting ground with the other.

Bach heard her scream and looked back to see her dangling by one hand on the far side of the near-vertical split. He stumbled up the opposing side, latched onto her hand, and used his logs to bridge the four-foot gap. She inched across to safety, but lost her grip on the log she carried. As It rolled past Bach, a cricket escaped. The terrified insect hopped a few feet out, stopped in fear, then made music with its back legs. Bach grabbed the log while Star scrambled on hands and knees after the cricket, snatching it in her cupped hand. Her partner pulled her upright and they labored across the shifting land together, reaching the third trail just seconds behind Cyrus and Wick. The four headed into the Ark with their cargo and Bach noticed that Griffon and Nova’s ship was gone.

Star prepped for liftoff while Bach secured the passengers in the E-module and the menagerie of small animals and insects in their temporary home.

Upon engine ignition, the ship shuddered against heaving and shifting ground. With forty seconds to go before liftoff, Star shouted to Bach, “We don’t have all the animals—there’s no pegasus.”

“We don’t have time, Star!”

“We must take them!”

With the floor rumbling beneath his feet, Bach rushed aft. “Open the ramp.”

As if in answer to the opening door, the pegasus appeared on the crumbling third trail. Mane flying and tale whipping, with sparkling dust swirling behind, the stallion raced toward the Ark and stopped at the foot of the ramp nodding and braying, with its frightened pink eyes focused on Bach.

Bach stepped out to corral the beast, but the wild frenzy of wings and striking legs forced him back into the cabin. He watched in anguish as the beast galloped in a circle, bucking and kicking, then jumped a twelve-foot split in the ground and flew down the third trail. Bach struck at the air with his fist and turned from the doorway in anger. “He was right here, spooked and desperate, but there was no way to catch him. And I didn’t see a mate.”

Wick appeared at the passageway door in the main cabin. Over the body-vibrating rumble she shouted to Bach, “There is just one.”

“What?”

“Magic’s the only one—a mutant—a result of all the testing. There are no others.” She hurried back to the E-module.

Warnings clanged and the passageway security locks snapped closed. Star retracted the ramp and advanced the engines for liftoff.

As the Ark sliced through the ghost-like mist, Bach whispered, “Sorry, Magic. Wish you could’ve come.”

“I do too,” Star said.

Bach sighed hard. “The pegasus will forever remain a myth.”

“A myth? He’s real.”

“On Earth, we depicted them in fantasy as mythical creatures, but we all wanted to believe they existed. I always wondered if someone, somewhere had seen one, and so cherished the memory that the tale of its sighting was passed from generation to generation. Now I saw one—incredible! I’ll never forget him. He understood and was angry about his fate.”

She brushed a tear from her eye. “I’m angry, too. I wanted to bring him along.”

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

On the lengthy flight to Jezreel, Bach and Star found time to eat, rest, and socialize with the passengers in the E-module. The eclectic group had adjusted well to their new living quarters and now shared great camaraderie. The many animals thrived and peacefully coexisted in their protective habitats.

While reviewing incoming data for Jezreel, Star shifted in her seat with a huff. “There’s something strange at the landing site.” She set the viewscreen for wide-angle and enlarged the landing site’s image. “Bach,” she said, without looking up from the electro-brain panel, “what do you make of this? The terrain scan shows our landing pad filled with debris and broken rocks.”

He looked over her shoulder and compared the image to computer data. “That’s recent damage. I’ll check for an alternate site.” His quick terrain query found no other landing sites, but as a rudimentary map spewed from his computer he said, “I found a flat area we can use. I’ve mapped it. Star, what happened here?”

“It’s a sad story. An ill-fated transformation began after the Specter appeared. Jezreel was once a pristine biosphere with rainforests and herb gardens—the only uninhabited planet. But the Specter’s experimentation wreaked havoc with the order and balance of Jezreel and the other planets, creating medical crises, depleting food and water supplies, and creating the need for an alternate fuel source. That’s when Durans sprang into action with interplanetary travel in search of solutions.”

“Not sure I want to hear this,” Bach said.

She continued, “Jezreel’s rainforest vegetation was rich in natural pharmacologies, and we kept up with the bacterial onslaught for a while. But the evil one quickly over-harvested the forests’ herbs for his own purposes.”

“So who lives here now?”

“I wish I could give you a better answer, but the people of Jezreel are the Specter’s castoffs. He seduces followers to his Ultimate World with hedonistic gratification, but many fall victim to excess, so he transports them here, to live out their lives as slaves, working as herb harvesters in controlled gardens.”

#

Bach landed the ship on the plot of ground he’d located earlier on the computer, and they set out using his map. He pointed toward a coppice of dead shrubbery. “That’s the fastest way to get to the populated area.”

The two traveled for more than a mile through jungle-like growth of browned plants, leafless bramblebushes, and tall dry stalks before emerging from the brush near a lake the size of a city block. Dark, polluted water clogged with debris and waste, had the dreadful stench of rotting garbage.

Hoping to come up with a better choice than following the smelly lake’s perimeter, Bach checked his map for an alternate path. If they detoured through an old rainforest, they’d eventually reach the civilized area. They set out through a mix of dead trees and soggy underbrush and eventually came to the depleted forest. At a plateau in the distance, three grimy waterfalls poured over gaunt-faced cliffs into a muddy lagoon below. Bach pointed ahead. “The housing area’s in a valley not far from that lagoon.”

After downclimbing a series of switchbacks through a maze of gnarled, skeletal trees, the two headed toward the housing area. As they approached, a warm, swirling breeze enveloped them in a putrid odor smelling of dead flesh. Ahead was what looked like a concentration camp. Star covered her nose and mouth with one hand and slapped at swarming bugs with the other. Bach held his breath as long as he could. Nostrils stinging from the stench, he moved cautiously into the camp-like area where scores of near-skeletal, unwashed residents in shabby clothing wallowed in filth and misery. Oblivious to their surroundings, some conversed with invisible partners and others stared into space from sunken eyes. Moans and cries of anguish arose sporadically.

The foul air permeated Star’s hair and clothing. She didn’t open her mouth more than necessary to speak, fearing she’d taste it. “This is worse than I could ever have imagined. They’ve been robbed of everything.”

Bach shook his head in disgust. “I don’t think we’ll see the symbol here.” He looked beyond the campsite. “There has to be another housing area, and those who run the co-op exchange. Let’s ask someone.”

A woman sitting on the ground in a makeshift shelter was closest to Star. The rail-thin woman, her skin the color of chalk, had drawn her knees to her chest and stretched her tattered brown dress over them as if to hold her in place. Star knelt alongside. “We need your help,” she said to the tragic figure. The woman reached out, but grabbed only air. Star took her hand. “Where are the ones who run the co-op?”

The woman stared from under corn-colored hair that seemed glued to her head, and erratic words tumbled from her thickened tongue. “I’ken help, if you help me.” She wrapped her arms around her ankles and rocked back and forth.

Star lifted the woman’s chin and looked into her vacant eyes. “We have nothing to give. Please, we need directions.”

A blank stare gave way to more of the woman’s rocking and rambling with her face pressed against her knees. Then she lifted her head and spoke words that seemed coherent. “Don’t go to the village, they kill each other. The leaders are kings—we are slaves. Please … a drink.”

Someone nearby shouted, “The Specter—he bestows carnal pleasures then steals the soul.” The Arkmates turned around to see a black youth lying on a nearby park bench. The teenage boy, his long hair matted in clumps, spoke with the wisdom of an old man. “The dark side’s cultivator kings are faithless.” His chest rattled with congestion. “Don’t believe their lies.”

A gray-haired elderly man clothed in tattered undershorts, with open sores on his body, gazed up from what seemed his home at the base of a tree stump. When he tried to join the conversation, a wracking cough convulsed his bony frame and a thick plug of mucous silenced him. Struggling for breath, he plucked a flowering weed from the dirt and nibbled on the petals in a bid for pleasure.

“This is almost unbearable,” Star said.

“Whew!” Bach sighed hard. “I wish we could help them, but there’s nothing we can do.” He walked to the teenager. “Where’s the co-op?”

The boy looked from matter-filled eyes. “All destroyed.”

“Destroyed?”

“Micro robots in food.”

Bach hated what he just heard. He stared at Star. “Could that be true? Does the enemy have programmable robots small enough to put in people’s food?”

“Anything is possible. It would be a means of total control.”

His heart raced. What if he puts mind control robots in Kaz’s and my crewmates’ food?

The rocking woman shouted without lifting her head from her knees. “No past, no present, no future. I need something to drink!”

Bach yelled to her, “I’m sorry, we have nothing.” Hands flailing in exasperation, he spoke to himself, “Is the whole planet like this?”

The youth replied, “Only for the commoners. The cultivator kings and principals live royally.” He slid his legs over the side of the bench and sat up ramrod straight. “A few beyond the graveyard once worked in the co-op effort.”

Bach looked at the boy. “Graveyard?”

Star looked around. “Where’s the graveyard?”

“Too much rain to tell. It might be that way.” He thumbed over his left shoulder.

The woman blurted out, “Not that way. The kings will kill them.”

The old man chimed in with a song. “Look for goldfish, do be do be do.”

Bach grumped, “Too much rain? His mind’s playing tricks on him.”

“He was our only hope. And I don’t see a graveyard.”

“And no goldfish.”

Star rubbed the teen’s back. “Where else might someone help with the co-op?”

“Some try, but they die,” he replied.

“You’re seeking the co-op group?” came a voice from nowhere.

Bach whipped around and reactively grasped his chest at seeing a well-groomed, dark-haired woman three feet away. “Where’d you come from?”

The woman’s hard-looking face softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I overheard your conversation. You asked about the co-op workers?”

“Yes, yes,” he stammered. “Were you here all this time?”

“No. I just got here. I come each day to care for the alms people. They can no longer help themselves.”

Star spoke up. “This young man seems to have hope.”

“He’s delirious,” said the woman, stepping in front of the teen. “He told you no one helps in the co-op, but he’s wrong.”

Bach extended his hand. “I’m Bach, this is Star. Maybe you can help us.”

“Of course.” The woman shook Bach’s hand. “My name is Sapphira. I deal with your co-op crews. Griffon and Nova are due here soon.”

“Sapphira?” Star mused. “I’ve never heard them mention you, and that’s such a beautiful name, I’m sure I would remember.”

“I’m the new liaison for co-op missions. I walk a fine line to keep in good graces with the cultivator kings. Their wrath is virulent. I often feign addiction just to survive. The lords are ruthless in their quest for total reign, and their substances, forced on all, provide every form of mind control.”

“You seem okay,” Bach said.

“I’m guided. I know the secret to avoiding addiction.”

Bach flashed his electric smile in relief. “Guided! I didn’t think it would be so easy. Do you have a mate—a partner—another guided one?”

Star pressed close to his side. “No symbol.”

Sapphira’s cool demeanor shifted to a slight smile. “Symbols? My brother has symbols—that’s what you want, right?”

Bach hesitated. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’ll go back for my brother. He’s in the city posing as a lord to keep us safe from control. I’d ask you to come along, but it could turn deadly. Where’s your ship? We’ll meet you there.”

Star faked a smile and motioned beyond the herb garden. “We’re by the ocean at the co-op ships’ landing site. It’s damaged, but we fly a different craft and were able to land there anyway. How long before you’ll be back?”

“Oh, it won’t take long at all.”

“Then we’ll wait here for you,” Star said.

Sapphira was barely out of sight when the rocking woman cried out, “No! Don’t stay—the graveyard will end it.”

Bach went to the woman, framed her face with his hands, and tried to make eye contact. “The graveyard will end it? What do you mean ‘the graveyard will end it?’” She rocked and said nothing more. “Please,” he said, jostling her by one shoulder.

The teenager shouted, “Sapphira’s tricking you.”

Star put her arm around the boy. “We don’t trust Sapphira, but I trust you. Why do you keep talking about a graveyard? Which way should we go? Help us.”

His eyes welled with tears and he pointed in the direction opposite of Sapphira’s travel. “Leave now. Hurry. Go to the stream.”

She patted his matted hair. “Thank you, friend.”

Bach looked over his shoulder. “Let’s keep an eye at our backs. We don’t know where Sapphira was headed.” He took Star’s hand. “Better run for it.”

The Arkmates high-stepped over dense weeds and plowed through ravaged herb gardens before stopping on a weed-covered hill. Bach looked around. “I hear trickling water.” He walked to the edge and saw on the plain below a slow-moving brook sculpting soft curves through green hills and valleys. With feet sliding against dry, rocky ground, the two made it down the embankment and headed to the stream. What had appeared greenery from the hill, turned out to be mold and algae coating the rocks and ground. Bach stared at the thick water and rubbed his forehead in agitation. “Look at that pearly sludge floating on top. What a disappointment.” He dragged a twig across the water, then examined the sample. “Looks like oil, but feels waxy, smells toxic.”

“There have been several disasters here,” Star said. “I remember stories about the Ultimate World burying chemicals and unwanted drug experiments in the ocean and under the river beds.” She looked around. “That young man talked about a stream. Maybe this is the one that leads to the co-op unit.”

They followed the murky creek around the base of a hill where it should have fed into a river, but hundreds of dead goldfish floating belly up clogged the narrow channel. Bach held back a shout. “Carp … goldfish! That old man sang about goldfish—this must be the way.”

Then he saw a sprawling plot of land two hundred yards left of the stream. Tangled, withered grapevines clung to arched, wooden frameworks laid out in hundreds of evenly spaced rows. Visible on a hill overlooking the vineyard were dozens of boulders and headstones—the graveyard.

Dreading the navigational challenge ahead, Bach complained. “Picking our way through all those grapevines to get to the graveyard won’t be easy, but there’s no choice.” They jogged toward the grape arbor and had covered more than one hundred yards before the ground beneath their feet suddenly turned marshy and their boots left four-inch deep imprints. “Part of an irrigation system for the vineyard,” he said, breathing hard. “It’s like running across a wet sponge.”

At those words, their feet sank ankle deep in gruel-like muck, and both pitched forward. Star managed to right herself and turn around. She helped Bach stand, but by now he had sunk to his knees.

“Quicksand!” he yelped.

Star tried to take a step, but her legs were in calf-deep. Bach grabbed her around the waist and pulled with all his strength to lift her, but the mire gripped like wet cement. “Sinking fast,” he said with a hard breath. He locked his hands behind his right knee and tried to free his leg, but with the forward shift of motion the quicksand claimed his thighs. “Star, we’re trapped!”

Both struggled in desperation, but with every passing second the unrelenting quicksand pulled them deeper. Bach had sunk to his waist; Star to her thighs. She stretched her arms sideways and stuck her hands into the mire. “Feel underneath. Maybe there’s something we can latch on to and pull ourselves to the side.”

Bach reached beneath the surface. “Left side. I feel something.” He wrapped his hand around what felt like a slimy rope and pulled on it, but the clump of cattail reeds and marsh grass he’d grabbed turned to mush in his hand. Again he strained to the limits of his left arm, this time feeling something like a small tree stump. He wrapped his fingers around it ever so gently and tried to ease himself from the quicksand. The waterlogged stump uprooted and the momentum took him another inch deeper. His anguished cry echoed through the barren vineyard.

Star leaned as close to Bach as she could. “Hold on to me. I’ll try to turn on my side, then maybe I can float on the top and you can push me to the edge.”

The two clung to each other in a bear hug and Star tried to free her legs by kicking up from behind. The upward movement allowed her a glimpse over Bach’s shoulder for a brief moment. Hunkered down a few yards away, a dark-skinned man and woman in shabby clothes watched the Arkmates’ struggle. “Help us!” she called out. “Bach, there are two people over there.”

He couldn’t turn to see, but yelled with all the strength left in his lungs. “Help. Please. Find something to pull us out.”

The man started to stand, but the woman pulled him back.

By now, the quicksand had gulped another three inches, taking Bach chest deep, Star to her waist. “You can’t let us die!” he yelled.

Star struggled to see over Bach’s shoulder.

He yelled again, “Help us.”

“They’re gone,” she said breathlessly.

His heart sank along with another inch of his body, and his head began to throb as pressure increased on his chest and squeezed his lungs. He closed his eyes.

Star tapped his face. “Don’t sleep, Bach! Open your eyes!” She looked around in a panic. The man and woman were back, closer and off to the side.

The haggard-looking man inched toward the quicksand and stopped a few yards away. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Bach reached out in a plea for help but couldn’t speak.

“We’re from Dura,” Star replied loudly, “looking for those who used to run the co-op. Please—”

“Why do you want them?” The man snapped.

The woman stepped forward. Her puffy face and dark-circled eyes looked like she’d been crying for days. “Why haven’t we seen you before?”

Bach’s breaths came fast and short. “We’re on a special mission … the regular crew isn’t here … need to find the co-op … to help your people.”

The man glared. “We don’t want your help. Everything here turns out bad.”

“Please give us a chance,” Star begged.

The couple looked around fearfully and whispered to each other, then headed to the vineyard where they knotted old grapevines into a lifeline, carried it back to the quicksand pit, and tossed one end to Bach. He slipped it around Star’s upper body and the couple pulled her from the mire. He was next.

The Arkmates stood motionless as lumps of quicksand slid down their silver jumpsuits and pooled around their boots. Bach could barely speak. “Thank you.”

The man’s eyes moved uneasily across the land. He took the woman by the hand and started to walk away.

“Don’t go,” Star pled. “Please help us find the co-op area. My name is Star, and this is Bach. We’re from Dura.”

The couple stopped but didn’t turn around. The man’s body started shaking and he sobbed. “This planet is in evil hands. Cultivators have everything.” He turned and looked Bach in the eyes. “Your exchange crews are in great danger.”

Star stepped to his side. “A lady named Sapphira wanted to help us. Who is she?”

The woman gasped. “Sapphira? You spoke to Sapphira, the deceptive queen leader?”

“I sensed her deceit,” Star replied. “We’ve led her astray.”

The man whispered to the woman. She nodded. “I’m Hope, and this is my mate, Freeman,” she said. “We were the last commoners to help with the co-op effort before the takeover. We hid the food and supplies from the last two co-op deliveries in the graveyard. At night we sneak into the campsite to feed the alms people. They’re dangerously undernourished.”

Freeman added, “We’re in great peril—our lives in danger. The lords are looking for us. We’ve been hiding.”

Bach stared at the bedraggled pair. Could they be the chosen ones? But there’s no symbol. He pointed to Star’s necklaces. “Have you ever seen anything that looks like this?”

“We commoners have no jewelry,” Freeman replied. “Everything’s been taken from us.”

“No—it doesn’t have to be jewelry,” Bach added. “It can be anything … anything that looks like this … a crossed circle.”

“A crossed circle? No,” Freeman replied weakly. He stared at the symbol then pulled Hope aside and talked in private. “We can think of only one thing,” he said quietly. “But you’ll have to come to our hiding place to see if it’s what you seek.”

“Where’s your hiding place?” Bach asked.

“Behind a waterfall.”

“Waterfall?” Bach groaned and plowed his dirty hands through his hair. “We’re short on time.”

Star said, “We passed a cliff with three waterfalls after leaving our ship.”

“Those are the ones,” Freeman answered.

Bach pulled the map from his pocket and showed it to Freeman. “We’re parked here, but we’ve covered a lot of ground since we passed the waterfalls. What’s the quickest way there?”

“A back trail. Follow me.”

#

Freeman and Hope’s hideout was in one of two caverns behind the waterfalls. The few remaining animals lived in the other. As soon as she entered, Hope cleared pebbles from an area of the floor and dug in the dirt to uncover a small, round, clay box. “This is all I can think of that looks like your symbol.” She handed the box to Star.

Star lifted the round lid. The box had two crisscrossing dividers inside. “This looks right. It’s a symbol.”

“Our oldest daughter, Kyrie, made it to hold four family treasures—one from each grandparent.” Hope’s eyes teared. “Our elders fought hard to break free of this planet, but there’s no way to freedom. Our children hid the last of our animals here in the cavern and cared for them. When our shelter burned down, all three children went missing. We’ve hidden here ever since.”

Star comforted Hope with a hug. “Children are missing from all of the planets. I’m going to find out why. How old were they?”

“Nine, eleven, and twelve.”

“Come with us now. You’ll be safe,” Star said. “We’ll do our best to find your children.”

#

Bach and Freeman boarded the animals, and Star led Hope to the E-module.

As the big ship lifted off, Bach enlarged an area of interest on the viewscreen. His devious smirk came at seeing Sapphira and her scheming posse of evildoers forging toward the ocean in terrain-runner vehicles.

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

From afar, Zarephath looked like a giant spinning top encircled by a multitude of halos. As Bach maneuvered the Ark through layers of ochre-colored particulates surrounding the planet, the view from the windows became obscured by the haze. His topography analysis showed twenty-three large and small volcanoes spread across the planet, and hilly terrain riddled with channels carved by a liquid. Additional data indicated a blanket of smoke, ash, and toxic pollutants.

As the Arkmates neared touchdown and the view cleared, the ship passed over a canyon darkened by a column of smoke climbing from a large, smoldering volcano. Two lesser mounds nearby spewed fiery pitch and a rain of black ash.

“Darn. We can’t use the co-op ships’ site,” Bach complained to Star. “It’s too close to an active volcano. But there’s a small valley close by that’ll work.”

After landing, Bach turned on the filtration system to prevent smoke from entering the cabin when they opened the door, then he and Star disembarked wearing E-suits to protect against the pollution. Finding no signs of life where they landed, he walked ahead about fifty yards and scaled the spine of a thirty-foot-high, rocky ridge to see what lay beyond. In the foreground, numerous sandstone and limestone mounts and cliffs, with trails leading up and around them, stretched across the terrain, the nearest with a cluster of cave-like openings and passageways at its base. More than a dozen large mountains loomed miles in the distance.

Then something flashed across his eyes, like the glint of the sun off metal. He squinted for a moment, then looked for the source. Nearby was a strange path inlaid with fragments of colored jewels that looked like they’d fallen from inside a kaleidoscope. As random volcanic flares illuminated the gemstones, colorful sparks danced across the terrain like those from a disco ball.

Fascinated by what he saw, Bach inched down the back side of the ridge and headed to the mosaic trail. He squatted down and ran his hands over an array of transparent gemstones in colors of yellow, red, green, blue, and purple, and others in opaque opalescent hues. Amazing! Someone purposely inlaid these stones as a picture. He followed the trail a few yards out. The inlaid image ended and the pathway became a footpath of hardened clay leading through larger limestone hills. Heading back to the ridge, he yelled to Star. “Star, come here! I found something awesome.”

She climbed the ridge and worked her way down the far side to where Bach stood shaking his head in wonder. Neither spoke as they absorbed the sight of sparkling jewels inlaid in the pattern of a comet trailing a multicolored tail across a blue sky.

Anxious to explore, he said, “The trail winds through a crevasse, but continues after the comet’s tail ends. Let’s see where it goes.” He closed the ship’s ramp with the remote control and the two set out along the gemstone-encrusted walkway.

Beyond the mosaic image, the two came to a narrow opening between two rocky ledges. Star followed behind as Bach squeezed through. The passage opened into a large arena where dozens of flat boulders stood upright like billboards. Their smooth stone surfaces featured carved hieroglyphics and depictions of Jurassic-era animals. Bach could barely contain his excitement. My imagination’s on overtime. Is this a museum from the Paleolithic era? He wandered closer to the boulders and touched the etched designs, whispering questions in his mind that he wished he could answer. Are they from the past? Or is this the present?

He recalled his college research on Neanderthal man. “I studied ancient art like this when I was in school,” he told Star. “These pictures are communication—family history, possessions, warnings, even spiritual beliefs.”

She ran her hand across a stick figure standing on a mountain with outstretched arms. “I have an overpowering feeling that this is a place of reverence.”

Bach nodded. “Yes, I feel a spiritual connection.”

The two moved among more limestone boulders and came to a Y-shaped divide. Bach pointed to the right. “I’ll check this way first.” He passed through a winding, three-foot-wide pathway when the rocks separated again. But ahead were only more crevasses and rocky ledges. He went back and reported, “No signs of civilization that way. Let’s try the left trail.”

They walked the trail for a short distance, then the crevasse opened into a high plain where fifty or more miniature volcanoes, the largest the size of a compact car, the smallest like a molehill, rose from the blackened soil. A few feet away, a dozen cavemen in loincloths squatted in a circle. Oblivious to Bach and Star’s presence, the ancient men seemed poised as cats ready to pounce on a basketball-sized mound emitting a confetti-like spray of ash.

The Arkmates moved closer.

As if on schedule, the small mound erupted with a bang, sending a burst of smoke ten feet high and enveloping the ancient cadre in a thick cover of dust. The men sprang to life with yelps of joy. But their excitement soon turned to shouting and shoving as they jockeyed for a prime spot above the steaming mound to ensure maximum smoke inhalation.

“I can’t believe my eyes,” Star said. “Fighting to inhale smoke?”

“It’s called smoking, but it’s most often done with, uh, little tobacco-filled paper cylinders….”

Star shivered. “Why would anyone choose to concentrate smoke in their lungs?”

Bach shrugged and shook his head at the same time. “They find it pleasurable.”

“Pleasurable? Look at the smoke coming from their mouths and noses. I’m glad we have the headgear. The smell must be awful.”

“It has a stimulating effect for some,” he offered. “But it becomes addictive and it’s toxic, and it shortens their lives. The log said that women are more susceptible to the smoke’s adverse effects. I figured it meant the atmospheric smoke. Anyway, there are few women left.”

They focused on the cavemen in hopes of seeing a symbol, but the men wore nothing but unadorned loincloths. As soon as the smoke from the small volcano dissipated, the ancients jumped up, squawking and grumbling, and ran to a two-foot-high mound near Star and Bach. Within seconds, the tiny volcano erupted, and the men pushed and shoved to reach the new source of smoke.

Bach said, “I read that in the past, the smaller volcanoes were used for glassmaking and mineral refining for the co-op. But glassmaking and ore processing are rare now. Zarephath’s men spend their time in combat for the smoke.”

“What can we do? If the eruptions continue, we’ll never get close to them.”

“Let’s move on and see what else we can find.”

The ancients paid no attention as the Arkmates headed across the clearing to a mountainous area. The two were halfway around the first mountain’s base when Bach stopped short and held Star back. Just yards ahead, an enormous pterodactyl lay writhing on its side on the ground.

Star moved closer behind Bach and watched as the bird struggled to lift one huge wing as if flapping a last goodbye. “How sad.”

“Sad and unbelievable at the same time,” he said. “Like stepping back to when time began.”

The bird let out a low cry.

“I can’t watch any longer,” she said. “We have to find the symbol.”

“I saw an outlying mountain with passageways and caves from the top of that ridge in front of where we landed,” Bach said. “We should be close to that area now. Let’s climb this mount and have a look from the top … find those caves.”

The rock climb was precarious right from the start, but was made more difficult by fallen tree branches and slippery, decaying leaves. The two eventually reached a trail of large limestone slabs stacked one on top of another, like a motionless escalator. After climbing dozens of steps, as they neared the summit on aching legs, Bach delivered a mournful song, “Oh, I wish I were a mountain goat, so I could reach the top.” As if in response to his lament, an inhuman bellow rang out. The sound hung in the air and echoed from cliff to cliff. He looked back down. “Whoa. I wonder what that was. I don’t see anything below. Let’s get to the top so we can see all around.”

On a plateau at the summit they found the source of the desperate cry—a felled brontosaurus lying on its side gasping for breath. The mighty beast’s nostrils flared as it strained to lift its huge head, which rose a little, then flopped back on the ground.

Star stepped back as Bach crept forward. The brontosaurus’s amber eye followed his every move. Bach crouched close to the primeval creature and inched his hand toward the beast’s head. “I’m so sorry, buddy.” He patted its neck. “I’d love to give you back your life, to see you roam and eat your vegetables. It’s just too late.”

The dinosaur went still at the touch of never-before-felt human kindness. Then its breathing tapered off, its huge eyes rolled closed, and its suffering body sagged and went motionless. Haaarraaggh! A final blast of air spurted from its nose. Bach waited for a moment, then reverently stroked the dead beast’s head. “Must have starved.” He looked at Star with a lump in his throat, then released frustration in a long breath before he spoke. “The animals here are huge. We’ll never be able to capture them, much less board them.”

“Let’s find the chosen ones. There are many questions in need of answers,” she replied.

Bach checked the far side of the mountain beyond the brontosaurus’s carcass. “Good news,” he yelled to Star, “a stair-like formation cut into the rocks leads to the caves I saw.”

As the two neared the bottom of the mount, an ancient-looking woman ran shrieking from a nearby cave. Dozens of cave dwellers poured from their caverns, and the area swarmed with panicked people. Three primitive men raced to an alcove and pounded circular metal gongs with huge clubs.

“Oh, no,” Bach said, “they’re afraid of us.”

In the midst of the alarm, an explosive flash lit up the sky miles beyond the caves to the right, and waves of heat rocked the air as a large volcano unleashed its fury, spewing flame and rock five miles high. Before their eyes, a blistering avalanche of boiling rain and brimstone rocketed down the fuming mount’s slope like an electric-red cake frosting.

With the volcano’s mighty power reverberating through his body, Bach’s mind clicked off the distance between the oncoming flow and safety. He took Star’s hand and hurriedly led her to one of the larger caves. It seemed empty, but he moved deeper inside to be sure.

In the semi-dark cavern, Star noticed a four-foot-high opening on one side that led to an adjoining chamber. She bent down and yelled into the darkness, “Hello, is anyone here?”

No reply.

Bach crouched down and felt his way into the room. He returned minutes later. “I couldn’t see, and couldn’t find much by touch.”

Star motioned him back to the entranceway. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the sight of mountains, sky, and caves illuminated in orange and red light from the blinding magma flow. “It’s terrifying and somehow beautiful at the same time,” she said, holding back fear. As the scorching crimson tide thundered down the volcano’s side, the clay floor shuddered beneath their feet. Star looked at Bach. “What if it comes this far?”

“Don’t think about that right now.” He turned her around. “Let’s go deeper inside where it’s cooler.” He led her to the adjoining chamber. On the chance cave dwellers were inside but too frightened to show themselves, Bach yelled again as they stepped into the room. “Anybody here?”

No answer.

As amber light from the perdition beyond flickered through fractures in the walls, the chamber slowly grew warmer and brighter. When Bach’s eyes adjusted to the eerie glow, he thought he was seeing things. Sparkling amethyst gemstones covered the walls. “Oh, my gosh,” he whispered, “We’re inside a giant geode.” Exploring deeper, he found a well-worn upright crevice that led into a narrow third room where an inch-high flame burning in a small pit of rocks cast just enough light for him to look around. A large box-like table with a heavy rectangular slab on top occupied most of the floor space in the room. He touched it. Why would anyone need this large table in such a narrow room? Looking around, he found the walls etched and painted with petroglyphs and rebuses, and the ceiling painted with Paleolithic art that made the room look like a prehistoric Sistine Chapel. I don’t believe this. “Star!” he yelled, “come here and look at this.”

She stepped through the crevice, and he excitedly pointed to rows of lines and dots drawn on the wall. “Look! This is similar to an ogham alphabet—various dots for vowels and differing lines for consonants. Much like modern-day bar codes on Earth, but it’s an alphabet.”

She ran her hand across the design. “This is fascinating. But I can’t concentrate right now. Let’s go back to the other room and keep watch. I’m worried about how we’ll search with this volcano bearing down.”

The two looked from the cave’s entranceway into the desolate area beyond where a red-hot river of molten rock surged down the mountainside, coating everything in its path with a glowing orange crust. But what seemed the end of all life suddenly took a surprising turn when, through stifling hot air reeking of death, a woman ran past the cave chasing after a black furry blur, frantically trying to catch it with a net of twigs. She’d almost snared the tiny animal when it withdrew its inch-long legs, curled into a ball, and rolled in circles in front of the caves.

“Phroo! Phroo!” the cavewoman shouted. “Stop, little phroo, don’t die!” As heat exhaustion weakened the woman, she dropped to the ground and crawled on hands and knees after the squealing phroo. With a wild scoop of her net she snared the elusive critter, then staggered into the cave with the writhing phroo clutched to her chest. Star and Bach were at the entrance.

Heart pounding, the woman gasped. “You’re not Rooks….”

Bach replied, “No, we’re from Dura.”

The cavewoman held the noisy, black furball by the scruff of its neck and tried to calm it by stroking the circular patch of gray fluff on its stomach. “Have you seen the other phroo?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. The tiny rodent’s huge purple eyes peeked from behind a collar of unruly gray fur framing a face that looked like a baby cheetah’s.

Star shook her head. “No, we haven’t.”

Bach reached out to touch the little critter, but it pulled in its legs, tucked its head under, and rolled into a ball in the woman’s hands.

“It’s a phroo?” Star asked.

Still trying to catch her breath, the woman didn’t answer for a moment. “Yes. There’s a white one too, a male. I have to find him. They’re the last ones. They search underground for gemstones to line their burrows. We watch where they enter and exit. The jewels keep us in the evil one’s good graces.” Her voice intensified. “The phroos locate bountiful lodes after the lava cools—carbon crystals, beryl, quartz, jasper, and other minerals, which we cleave into objects of beauty to please the Specter and his Rooks.” The critter squirmed, so she closed both hands around it. “People became greedy—tried to tame the phroos so they would search just for them. But these little ones don’t live long in captivity, and now phroos are extinct, except for two.” She put the furball in a small cage made from twigs. “Their underground searches often set off minor eruptions, which cause the smaller mounds to smoke. But those subterranean areas have weakened, and this major eruption is the tragic consequence.” Head shaking, she added, “These two are still young. Most of our animals have already died.”

“What happened to them?” Star asked.

“Over time, many of us refused to join the Specter’s army. He vented his anger by using our volcanoes as his dumpsite. He flaunts his power by coming back and discarding toxic waste. It aggravates the volcanoes, and chemicals spew like lethal rain. We’ve been safe in our caves, but everything outside has slowly withered and died, and so did the animals. Much of our water is contaminated. The poisons have taken a toll.”

Star shook her head. “I’m so sorry to hear of the evil he’s done.” She looked at Bach. “That explains the oil splotches that hit the ship when we tried to reach Zarephath a few days ago, and the rings around the planet.”

“All the animals are dead?” Bach asked.

“Yes, the adults. But I have some of their babies—trying to keep them alive.”

“You have baby animals?”

“Those I could rescue, but many are lost forever. I have eggs of the largest. They’re a long time in hatching, so Ptero constructed a safe nesting place for them.”

“Is Ptero your mate?” he asked. “Where is he?”

The woman pointed outside. “He’ll be here. He knows the dangers of Zarephath.”

The three huddled in the arched doorway, straining to see through air heavy with embers and smoke. A staggering figure approached from the distance, struggling under the weight of two metal buckets suspended from a pole across his shoulders. At his back, the three-mile-long ruby river incinerated everything from the largest tree to the smallest unseen organism.

Bach rushed into the ash and smoke yelling to the man, “Hold on!” He carried one bucket, and the man carried the other.

As soon as they reached the cave, Bach moved everyone into the amethyst chamber, away from the acrid smell and visual horror approaching just hundreds of yards away. He couldn’t help but notice a pouch hanging from Ptero’s shoulder with something moving inside. Yet he was more interested in the two metal buckets—out of place in such a prehistoric setting.

Noting Bach’s stare, the cavewoman slid one of the buckets toward his feet and pointed inside. “Food for the baby animals. Ptero cooked the fruits and vegetables we had left after the last co-op exchange.”

Bach examined the contents of the bucket. A four-partitioned divider that looked like the symbol separated the different foods. “Uh … uh,” he stammered, realizing he didn’t know the woman’s name. “Your name?”

“Xian.” She pronounced it like Shan.

“Xian, where did you get these buckets?”

Ptero answered instead. “Made them at the fire furnace—to help with my feeding formula. I cook it all over the same fire but separate the different foods, so I made dividers.”

While the primitive couple held Bach in conversation, Star felt compelled to return to the narrow room. She slipped through the crevice for one more look at the ogham alphabet, then studied various hieroglyphs on the walls. She easily interpreted some: a man and woman locking hands, a dinosaur with a baby, a series of eclipse phases taken from a nearby planet, a volcanic eruption. But among the painted and chiseled designs she noticed a different art form: a heat-branded image depicting a right hand with a cross and circle in the palm. The symbol of hope. She rushed to tell Bach, but as soon as she stepped back into the amethyst chamber, he motioned for her to examine the bucket.

Star noted the symbol Bach had found, then led him, Ptero, and Xian to the wall in the narrow room and pointed out the right hand with the crossed circle. Bach touched it and felt a form of energy coming from it. “Our sign!” He spoke excitedly to Xian and Ptero. “We’re here to take you with us. We’re on a mission from the Creator and we’ve come to take chosen people back to Dura—both of you.”

“When will we leave?” asked Ptero.

“As quickly as possible,” Bach said. “And we must bring your animals. But we weren’t expecting a volcano in the middle of everything. Where are those baby animals? We have to hurry.”

The ancient pair motioned for Bach and Star to step back from the box-like stone table, then Ptero slid the heavy rectangular slab from the top. The huge slab rolled away with little effort, amazing Bach. On closer look, he noticed a carved trench around the table’s top with marble-sized stones inside that worked like ball bearings. More surprising was seeing dozens of baby prehistoric animals—none larger than the tennis-ball-sized phroo—and various-sized eggs inside the box.

Ptero pulled nine small, twig cages and six animal-skin pouches from beneath the table, then caught a baby dinosaur the size of a chameleon and handed it to Bach. “I’ve found a way to keep animals small so they’ll not require as much food.”

Bach marveled at the miniaturized Stone Age animals as he helped put them into the twig cages and pouches.

Star cradled the squirming black phroo in her hands, then held it at eye level and looked into its big purple eyes. The frightened critter squealed and rolled into a ball. “It’s good the animals are all small. I don’t know where we would have put those larger species at full size,” she said.

Star had barely finished her sentence when Ptero swung the pouch from his shoulder. “Look,” he said, removing the writhing white phroo from the bag. “Caught him.” The wriggling furball sprang from his hand and scurried across the floor into the main chamber. Bach and Ptero hurried after it, but weren’t fast enough. The phroo balled up and rolled behind a boulder the size of a refrigerator. Ptero dropped to his knees and strained to reach behind the boulder. “Come back,” he cried out. He looked at Bach. “We’ll never get him.”

Bach grumbled, “We have to.” He slapped his hands on the boulder, trying to scare the phroo from hiding, but the critter stayed put. “Let’s put his mate’s cage nearby. Maybe he’ll come out for her.” An explosive blast outside seemed to respond to his plan. The cave’s walls and floor shook, and Star and Xian hurried to the entranceway. A second volcano had erupted to the left of the caves.

Knowing that the two walls of lava bearing down on the caves would soon enclose them, Ptero rushed to a granite slab standing upright alongside the door. “Hurry,” he bellowed to the others. The four lined up shoulder-to-shoulder and leaned on the slab with all their weight, but it didn’t move.

Determined, they pushed again and again, feet sliding, falling down, and shoving until their insides hurt. Finally, Bach yelled, “Push in short bursts! Heave-HO!” The slab slid an inch. The next “Heave-HO,” gained another inch, then another, until the doorway was sealed. Yellow and red lights flickered through cracks in the rocks like flashbulbs, and a wave of lava slammed against the cave. Within seconds, the darkened cavern seemed a merciless purgatory.

The thought of roasting to death propelled Bach onward. “Quick,” he snapped, herding everyone into the narrow chamber. “It’ll stay cool there the longest.” He turned back to the main room. “I’ll plug up the cracks. Gotta keep out the smoke and lava.”

Wearing his E-suit space gloves, Bach stuffed every pebble and stone he could find into crevices around the slab. In the savage heat, the cave’s oxygen level fell to a critical low. Drenched in sweat, he grew light-headed and confused. His eyes flickered open and shut and he staggered backwards, leaning against the wall as he slid to the floor. The white phroo scurried past his feet. The white phroo? Am I hallucinating? Then he saw it again, pawing at its mate’s cage. The little critter’s purple eyes focused on him as if pleading for help before it scurried back behind the boulder. The caged female lay panting on her side.

Bach mulled over the white phroo’s appearance in his foggy mind. NASA’s “think-aloud protocol” kicked in. “That phroo came for his mate, but didn’t stay. Why’d he go back?” Wobbling to his feet, he grabbed the caged female and moved her to the cooler inner chamber. Then he headed back to the boulder, snatched off a glove, and wedged his arm behind the crevice all the way up to his elbow. The air inside felt cool and clammy, almost refrigerated.

Leaning hard on the huge rock, he pushed with all his might, but it didn’t budge. He bellowed from scalding lungs, “Star! Everyone! Out here. Hurry!”

The others rushed to the boulder and, together, rocked it back and forth until momentum rolled it aside, exposing a cool, dark passageway two feet wide and five feet high. A chilly draft streamed from the shaft into the sweltering cave, swirling the stifling air into a foggy mist. Bach saw the white phroo balled up three feet inside the shaft. He scooped it up and handed it to Xian.

Bach and Star hurriedly removed their headgear, and all four revived themselves with deep breaths of the tunnel’s cool, subterranean air. Then Bach hunched over and stepped into the shaft. “I’ll be right back.”

“Careful,” Star said.

After he’d moved a few feet in, the others lost sight of him. When several minutes passed with no communication, Star, Xian, and Ptero eyed each other without words.

Star yelled into the shaft. “Bach, hurry.”

No reply.

Pacing, she nervously rubbed her hands on her hips, then leaned in and yelled again. “Bach?” She looked at the others. “Something’s wrong.” She entered the passageway, calling into the darkness. “Bach?”

No answer.

Farther in, she called again, “Bach, where are you?”

His voice echoed back as if he were a mile away. “It’s cool all the way—continues on. Get the others and the animals.”

Star stepped back into the cave and helped Xian and Ptero gather the twig cages and pouches. The three were ready to go when Bach returned.

“Hurry!” he said as he set foot inside the ovenish cave.

Star entered the shaft first, followed by Xian, then Bach and Ptero, all carrying pouches and cages. “Careful,” Bach warned, “It’s a gradual incline through slippery muck.” Bending low and unable to see, the four moved deeper and deeper into the tunnel. The only sounds were their struggling breaths, and from their feet sucking up and down in the sediment.

Feeling her way along the slime-coated walls with one hand while carrying one cage under her other arm and another in her hand, Star came to a narrow area where she had to angle her body and reposition the cages to fit though. She called back to the others, but at the same time pitched forward with an unexpected cry.

“Star, you okay?” came the sound of Bach’s voice.

“I’m okay. I caught my foot on flat rocks and dropped the two cages.”

“I found them,” Xian said from behind.

Star rustled around in the darkness. “I’ll move the rocks.” An odd silence followed. “Bach. They’re etched or inscribed.”

Bach squeezed past Xian and ran his hand over two flat limestone tablets. When he added them to his load, an ominous rumble shook the tunnel. “Another one’s erupted. Let’s move!”

The four pressed on in the darkness, crouching, crawling, and climbing through the narrow cavity of oozing muck. The loads they carried now weighed like millstones around their necks, and Bach complained. “This has to end somewhere. It’s taking too long.”

Minutes later, warm air and a faint orange light flowed into the shaft from above.

Then, with hands and legs covered in slime, the four emerged atop a thirty-foot mount. Two miles at their backs, the pyroclastic flow marked off its territory with a roaring vengeance and the area of caves where they’d been was ablaze.

Bach and Star replaced their headgear. She yelled over the rumbling, “I can’t tell which way to go through all the ash and smoke.”

Bach looked out over the surrounding area. “I can’t either.” He pointed ahead in desperation. “Let’s get more distance between us and the lava and try to figure it out.”

They descended the mount single-file and Ptero caught up with Bach at the bottom. “Isn’t your ship at the co-op landing site?”

“No. There was a small active volcano near there, so we landed several miles beyond in a valley with one barren region.”

Ptero stopped walking. “Did you see a fireball trail?”

Bach slowed and looked back at Ptero. “Fireball trail?”

Ptero nodded. “Our pathway to the place of worship. A fireball made from colored stones.”

“Yes, yes. The trail with the gemstone comet,” Bach said. “It’s right near the ship.”

Ptero pointed straight ahead. “That way.”

#

The four hastened down the comet trail, then stopped at the rocky ridge in front of the ship. Exhausted from carrying the extra load, Bach set the heavy stones on the ground to catch his breath before climbing the mount’s steep face.

Ptero looked at the stone tablets, excited and curious. “Our leaders have searched for these for generations; they’re depicted on our most ancient mount.” He knelt for a closer look. “It is said they are the Creator’s laws.”

“Awesome!” Bach replied. He pulled the remote control from his pocket, reloaded his arms with the cargo, and the four proceeded up the ridge. He had his finger on the button to open the ramp, but stopped short at the top at seeing two huge apes standing near the ship.

Ptero and Xian seemed more shocked than Bach and Star. Ptero looked at Xian in disbelief. “Who are they?”

She eyed them curiously, “I’ve never seen them before.”

The docile apes quietly watched the four on the ridge. The smaller one clutched something in its left hand.

Bach opened the ramp, grumbling. “We don’t have time for this!”

The ancients stumbled down the ridge and raced past the apes into the ship.

Concerned that the apes may cause trouble, Bach descended first, with Star close behind. He set his cargo on the ground and cautiously strode onto the ramp. Both apes stepped onto the ramp at the same time. When they showed no signs of aggression, Star moved to Bach’s side.

Breathing hard with apprehension, Bach looked at Star and shook his head. “Help me get them off the ramp. We have to get out of here!”

“Let’s lead them off.” She set down the twig cages she carried and extended her right hand to the smaller of the two.

The small ape mimicked Star’s outstretched right hand. Inside its leathery palm was what appeared to be a mark made by a branding iron—a cross in a circle.

Bach noticed it first. “What?” he shouted louder than intended as he grabbed the ape’s hand and examined the mark.

The larger ape moved forward.

Trying to get a good breath from behind his headgear, Bach thrust out his hand as if to say, stay back. The ape immediately held up its hand in the same way. It also had a crossed circle seemingly branded into its hand.

“This is crazy!” Bach said, looking at the ape’s hand again. “They have the symbol. But we already have our two people.” He looked around, wildly confused, as the fiery disaster bore down.

Star looked again at the symbol in the primates’ palms. “We can’t leave them.”

The smaller ape stepped closer and looked into Bach’s eyes as if communicating. Then, it was as if the Creator shone a light on Bach’s thought processes and he remembered the instructions he’d received on the mount. “Oh, God!” he yelped excitedly. “Star, this is part of the Creator’s instruction. He said to resolve trials through spiritual discernment. This is a trial.”

“This is when you pray,” she replied.

Bach whispered a prayer. When he opened his eyes, he knew that the symbol in the apes’ palms met the Creator’s requirement for passage onto the Ark. “Hurry,” he said to Star. “We’ll take them.” Yet he couldn’t help wondering, What are apes doing here and how did they get here?

As Bach and Star rushed up the ramp with the primates, the smaller ape stopped for a moment and handed Star a pocket-sized fur pouch closed by a drawstring. Something rattled inside. Star hurriedly tucked it inside her E-suit.

Bach led the animals to their module, and Star retrieved the cages and stone tablets from the ramp. The volcanic air had warmed by ten degrees. She rushed to the cockpit and closed the ramp just as Bach returned from the animals’ module.

Ptero and Xian stood nearby, still suffering from heat fatigue. Ptero coughed up stale smoke. “We don’t know those two. We’ve never seen them before.”

Xian added, “I thought we had all the animal species accounted for.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Bach replied. “Time to get out of here.” He pulled off his E-suit and readied for liftoff.

Star hurried Ptero and Xian to their quarters, then stored her E-suit and headgear and took her place alongside Bach.

The Ark ascended to a diminishing view of half of Zarephath glowing like a molten sun.

*****

Star leaned back in exhaustion. “It’s a miracle we made it through all that,” she said to Bach. “The two creatures we just boarded that you call apes are extremely interesting, of higher intelligence than the other animals.”

“Yes, they are,” he replied. “But they’re too big to use the facilities in the E-module, and there are no specialized chambers left anyway, so I placed them in with the animals.”

Star nodded. “Do you think this is their natural state, or were they once a higher life-form that evolved into creatures able to withstand all the toxic waste on their planet?”

“Interesting question. I wish we could ask them.” Bach was quiet for a moment. “Let me share a different theory about apes with you,” he said. “Some anthropologists on Earth believe that primates were the earliest form of man, and that they evolved into the people we are today.”

After a moment’s thought, Star said, “I believe that evolution could occur in either direction, but not to drastic degrees.”

“That makes sense,” Bach replied.

Star listed Xian’s and Ptero’s names on the roster, but unknowingly misspelled them as Shan and Terro. “What’s next on our mission?”

“Started with seventeen days … two left,” Bach replied. An odd sigh escaped, almost as if he tried to hold it back, but couldn’t. “That includes getting back to Dura. We’re not gonna make it. We don’t have enough fuel.” He flashed a laser pen at the suspended panel. “Look at this. Dividing acceleration, times distance to the last planet into energy available, we’ll be on an empty glide heading back to Dura. I can’t shake a weird feeling.”

“Focus on the goal and pray. The Creator will see this effort and his people through.”

“By the way, what’s in the little pouch that the female ape handed you?” he asked.

“Don’t know. It’s back there with my E-suit. I’ll get it.”

Star carried the jangling fur pouch back to the cockpit, then sat beside Bach and shook it gently over his waiting hands. A dazzling array of sparkling diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and dozens of other colorful gemstones tumbled out.

She examined the jewels one at a time. “It’s amazing that something this beautiful comes from the ground.”

He picked up a round blue gem. “This one’s the color of your eyes.”

Embarrassed, she changed the subject. “We must keep these safe for the apes.”

“Think about the little phroos who seek out these jewels,” Bach offered. “No wonder everyone wants to own a phroo. I hope our two little ones thrive and start a family.”

Star smiled and wrinkled her nose as she put the gemstones back in the bag. “Can you imagine a baby phroo? A little tiny one?”

He nodded with an electric grin. “It would surely be cute.” Then he turned serious. “I’m still in awe of those stone tablets. Ptero said the engravings might be the Creator’s laws.”

“I’ll try to electronically decode them when we get back to Dura. But what made you bring them along?”

“Don’t know. Just overcome with a feeling.”

Monitoring planet Zarephath for the last time after breaking the gravity field, Star cried out in alarm, “Bach! Look! The whole planet’s an inferno!”

Fearing what was to come, Bach advanced the Ark’s engines to full power.

Not three seconds later, the blazing sphere exploded before their eyes, blasting molten debris into space with the velocity of meteors. Viewed from the rapidly ascending Ark, the flaming planetary fragments appeared to inch through space.

Bach’s stony expression spoke volumes. In delivering the ship from disaster, the powerful launch cost most of their fuel.

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

After reading the journal entry for Ashkelon, their last stop, Bach knew that a unique search effort lay ahead. Seventy-five percent of the planet’s surface was covered by water. An aerial view showed suspension bridges connecting five islands that looked like they’d been cut and pasted onto a watery background, and floating buildings, spillways, boats, and dinghies completed the scene. The landing site for co-op ships was near a small island shipyard where vessels were stored and repaired. Bach set the big ship down there, then disembarked with Star.

The two walked more than a hundred yards to a suspended bridge that led from the island they were on to another land mass about an eighth of a mile away. Star commented, “So much water. We’re lucky the sky is clear. The logbook entry said torrential rains come without warning.”

“This land shortage must present huge challenges,” Bach said.

As they neared the end of the bridge, a large sign overhead read MEN ONLY and a security device mounted in a turret continuously scanned the island.

Bach sighed. “A difficult start already.”

Star sat on a concrete wall under the turret. “I’ll wait here.”

Looking around, Bach muttered, “I’m confused.” He stepped onto the island where rolling ripples of water lapped at the eroded shoreline. “The journal said that the residents are separated by gender. If men and women never share the same area, do they live apart forever? How would there be children?”

Star shrugged and shook her head.

Wondering where to begin his search, Bach noticed a medical facility, command posts, and a park-like recreation area. The park was the logical starting point. An event of some kind was in progress and several hundred men wearing yellow, hospital-like uniforms with numbers on the front and back of the left shoulder, had gathered around tables where others were seated in groups of six. Bach walked among the spectators, but not one man spoke to him. A gaming tournament of skill and intellect held their attention. Moving from table to table he noticed identical circular game boards with playing pieces of different shapes and colors. The boards, divided into four pie-shaped sections, looked like the symbol. Can’t be. There are hundreds of them. Face scrunched up in dismay, he walked on.

After he’d searched for more than an hour and found nothing resembling a symbol other than the game boards, Bach headed back to the bridge. Star was still sitting under the turret where he’d left her. “The men are having some kind of contest and nobody’s talking,” he reported. “But the odd thing is, their game boards are round with a design that looks like the symbol. But it can’t be—there are hundreds of them.”

She pointed to a connecting bridge running from the bridge they were on to an adjacent island. “Let’s cross over there and have a look.”

The second bridge hung just inches above the water and as they walked across, their weight took it below the surface. Wet to the ankles, they reached the next island’s sandy shore. There, another security system scanned an area designated WOMEN ONLY. In the distance were several office-like buildings and a women’s medical center. But closer, in an area the size of a soccer field, hundreds of female spectators rooted for participants hovering over dozens of waist-high platforms. Several women monitored the event from a large stage, and all were dressed alike in numbered gray uniforms.

Bach sat at the foot of the bridge and motioned Star on. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Star headed toward the closest platform where a group of twelve women, spaced two feet apart, awaited a given signal. At the sound of a buzzer, each woman set a gyroscope into motion within a marked-off area. The tops spun for minutes on end and the contestants watched intently. A digital readout suspended above the platform displayed elapsed time. As the gyroscopes slowed and stopped one after another, Star moved closer, noting a crossed-bar formation inside the spheres that looked like the symbol. She pondered the discovery while moving farther through the crowd and among the platforms, watching for anyone or anything displaying the sacred icon. But after covering the entire event and finding nothing among the spectators or participants, she returned to Bach. “Something strange is going on,” she said. “They’re competing with identical gyroscopes and each has inside what looks like the symbol. But as you said about all the game boards on the men’s island, all the participants couldn’t have a symbol.”

Bach ran his hand through his hair with a sigh and looked out over the crowd. “Maybe the Rooks got here first and foiled our search.”

“But Rooks wouldn’t know about the symbol.”

A cheer broke from one group and the winner rushed to the stage holding her gyroscope above her head. The crowd applauded her victory and readied for the next match.

“What now?” Star asked.

Bach shrugged. “Maybe we should separate and check the housing areas. You check the women’s while we’re here, and I’ll go back and check the men’s area.”

“Separating is a bad idea.”

“But we can’t go together here,” he complained as he looked back at the group of women. “Maybe we’re supposed to take the game winners.” All of a sudden his mouth dropped open and all the air shot from his lungs. “Oh, oh, my God!” He started forward.

Star grabbed his arm. “Bach, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t explain, but tightened his arm around hers and pulled her into the crowded park. Pushing and shoving through the women and platforms, he lost his grip on her arm the last few yards and sprinted red-faced and yelling, “Kaz! Deni!” But the loud gaming buzzer for the upcoming round drowned out his words. Bach reached his crewmates and pulled Kaz back from a platform. Staring at her face, he said through gasps for breath, “Kaz? I can’t believe it!”

Her expression was one of shock mixed with fear. “Bach?”

Star caught up. “You know them?”

“It’s Kaz, my fiancée, and Deni, my crewmate.”

Deni stepped back from the platform, eyes nervously flashing around the area before nodding acknowledgment.

Without thinking, Kaz embraced Bach.

Deni grabbed her away. “Stop it! Do you want the labor camp? Don’t touch him.”

“Oh, Bach, it’s a nightmare!” Kaz trembled, trying to hold back tears. “I can’t believe you’re here. We’re prisoners, sent here as the Specter’s revenge.”

Bach’s heart sank as he looked into those familiar Hispanic eyes. He cupped his long-lost fiancée’s face in his hands and whispered, “Have you been hurt?”

“No, but it’s torture here. We’re restricted and punished for everything.”

Deni pulled Kaz back. “Stay away from him, Kaz!” She shook her head as she spoke. “Bach, your being here is going to bring trouble.”

He inched backwards. “Are Lynch and G.R. here too?”

“No, just us. The male Rooks were fascinated by Kaz and me—women from the blue planet. The Specter feared we’d manipulate his men, influence them, maybe escape, so he shipped us here.”

“Did you ever see him?” Bach asked.

“Just his face—the apparition.” Deni took a deep breath and tried to speak without visibly mouthing the words. “He extracted samples: blood, small bits of flesh, body fluids, DNA. He’s working on genetically superior supersoldiers. Our diverse genes could either add to that effort or spawn a peasant race to do the hard labor. Could be he’s gone too far with experimentation and needs fresh DNA to correct his mistakes.”

Sniffling, with voice shaking, Kaz whispered, “Bach, we gotta get out of here; everything’s under microscopic control.”

The sight of his fiancée in drab, gray, prison-like clothing ripped at Bach’s emotions. He could barely speak and wasn’t ready to leave. “I’ve missed you terribly.”

Kaz moved to within inches of his face, tears spilling from her eyes. “Please, take us back to Dura.”

“Kaz, I can’t, not now. We’re on a special mission. But I’ll come back for you … and Deni.”

She stopped crying and glared at him. “What mission? What’s more important than rescuing us? You don’t understand what we’ve been through.”

Star moved closer. “We have a critical time limit—the enemy may bring harm to all. Please understand.”

Kaz looked at Star, then Bach, then dropped to her knees, closed her eyes and whispered, “Please help us, God.”

Deni latched onto the neckline of Kaz’s jumpsuit and lifted her from her knees. “Get up!”

Kaz stepped back, straightening her clothes. A necklace now hung outside her gray uniform.

Bach stared at the pendant. A crossed circle—a symbol of hope. He moved as close to Kaz as he dared. “Where did you get that pendant?”

“G.R. made them for all of us from scrap metal when we were confined together at Ulwor. It’s the scientific symbol for planet Earth. We wear them to keep hope and memories of home close to our hearts.”

Scientific symbol for planet Earth? Bach remembered the planetary identifiers from an early science lesson.

Suddenly, a platoon of male guards plowed through the crowd. The contestants and spectators scattered like ants on a stirred mound, and as the women rushed across a bridge to their living quarters, Bach knew that he, Deni, Kaz, and Star were in trouble.

The ten sentries carried heavy firearms and bayonets at their sides and wore menacing black body armor, fashioned of micro-thin chain mail, emblazoned with bold white x’s on the chest and helmet. The tall lead guard stepped forward and shoved his blade to Bach’s throat as the other nine surrounded the helpless four. The lead’s booming voice rocked the air from behind his face shield. “You ignored the segregation statute!” He pointed his bayonet at Kaz. “And you dishonored our directives with your public display of devotion.”

“I didn’t display anything,” she said in a snotty tone, eyes flashing. “I dropped something and knelt to look for it.”

“Start walkin’,” he commanded.

“Everybody move!” shouted an impatient muscular guard.

The guard squad marched Bach, Star, Deni, and Kaz to a third suspension bridge leading to the labor camps on the next island. Desperate to avoid punishment, Kaz stopped short, causing several guards to stumble into each other. While the grumbling guards regrouped, she pled like a scared child. “Don’t take us away. It’s not our fault a man is here. Let me and Deni go back with the women.”

Bach joined in, “Star and I didn’t mean to infringe. Let us return to our ship, and let the other two go back.”

The tall guard’s voice boomed, “Labor camps are the penalty for commingling.”

“It was an accident,” Bach said. “We just got here and we didn’t understand the rules. It won’t happen again.”

The lead pushed him with his bayonet. “Shut up and keep walkin’.”

The four prisoners reluctantly trudged along the bridge, prodded by the guards when they moved too slowly. Bach grew more defensive by the second at thinking of incarceration and further delay. As the two labor camps came into view, the sight of rigid steel buildings surrounded by a deep, wide moat and surveillance structures like airport control towers only heightened his determination to avoid punishment. While the gravity of the situation sank in, something out of place offshore to the right caught his eye. He looked again to be sure he’d really seen a mermaid atop a rocky ledge protruding from the sea about ten yards out. Three feet of silky golden hair cascaded down her half-human body, and her iridescent blue-green fish tail dangled just far enough to stir the seawater with a teasing swish. She looked to shore from glowing green eyes.

“Holy cow!” he said louder than intended. “A mermaid! Look, a mermaid!”

“Quiet!” roared the brawny, broad-shouldered guard.

The mermaid, startled by the shout, slithered into the lagoon’s midnight blue waters.

Star spoke to herself, “Half-fish and half-woman?”

“Do not speak!” commanded the tall lead guard. “Stop here.” He shoved the hostages by the shoulders and lined them up side by side. Then, like an executioner walking with one hand behind his back, he examined them one by one from behind his face shield. Arrogant and stiff, he stopped in front of Bach, raised his bayonet to his captive’s neck, then looked back at his platoon and announced, “They’re mine!” He singled out the burly guard and a short guard as assistants and said to the remaining seven, “We’ll take over. We’ll serve them their proper punishment. You all are dismissed.”

As the surplus sentries marched away, the tall lead motioned to his two assistants to corral Deni, Kaz, and Star with their bayonets. Then he hovered over Bach from behind and shoved him along, repeatedly pushing him as they walked.

Bach short-circuited. He turned around and glared past the eye space of the tall guard’s helmet. Beady blue eyes looked back. He thought about his earlier discovery of his crewmates. This is a trick. Kaz and Deni said they were the only ones here. It can’t be Lynch. Before either made a move, the short guard stepped forward and pushed Bach over with the women.

The lead guard commanded the prisoners to proceed. As they clipped off yardage and neared the labor camps, Bach’s mind ran on overtime. Those are Lynch’s beady eyes and his wiry frame. Is he one of them or one of us? He slowed for another peek at the tall guard’s eyes, but the muscular guard pushed him along.

Standing at the gate of a massive iron fence enclosing the moat, the short guard separated the ladies from Bach by poking him in the ribs with his bayonet. He said, “Here’s where I separate the man from the women. Women, come with me.”

In a near panic, Kaz flailed her arms and shrieked, “I’m not going in there.” She pounded the short guard’s chest. “I don’t care if you kill me, I’m not going.”

The brawny guard pulled Kaz back and restrained her while he spoke to his short counterpart. “Roman, they’re too rebellious. Labor camp would be too easy. In my opinion, they should all be placed in isolation—spend a little time all alone in maximum.”

In my opinion? That familiar phrase caused Bach’s mind to stop, and got the attention of all the captives, except Star. In the doomsday setting, the words were like a father’s voice. Bach, Deni, and Kaz looked beyond the broad-shouldered guard’s headgear and saw G.R.’s Neanderthal brows and dark eyes looking back. He winked.

Intuition hit Kaz and Deni at the same time and they scrutinized the tall, lanky guard on the sly. He had Lynch’s close-set blue eyes.

Kaz whispered, “Lynch?”

He cleared his throat and moved away.

The shorter guard, Roman, sensed something strange and paced around the prisoners. “What’s going on?”

Nobody spoke, but Bach clamped his hand around the back of Kaz’s arm.

Roman strutted back and forth like a peacock in heat. “Yes, I think the isolation jail is the place for you wise guys.”

With the artful dodge of Br’er Rabbit, Bach said, “Oh, please, Roman, don’t send us to isolation. Anything but that.”

Kaz didn’t get the ploy at first and stared at Bach as if he were deranged. Then she got it. “I’ll kill myself if you put me in isolation,” she declared. “I’ve been there before. I’ll kill myself. I mean it!”

“Oh, that would be my pleasure,” Roman said with a snarl as he pricked at her with his bayonet.

She slapped the air. “Stop it.”

“Silence,” he growled.

Star didn’t know that two of the guards were also Bach’s crewmates, but the waste of time annoyed her. She looked at Roman with resolve in her eyes. “An alert will go out in Dura if we don’t return at a scheduled time, and Altemus will eliminate you from the co-op exchanges. You won’t exist long on just seafood.”

He smirked. “You have no leverage with your words.”

Lynch’s familiar southern drawl came from behind his faceplate. “Roman’s right. You whiners deserve isolation for gettin’ outta line.”

G.R. corralled Kaz and Deni, and Lynch pushed Bach and Star toward a prison shuttle boat visible in the distance. While the detainees played their defiant roles to the hilt, Lynch spoke to the short guard. “Good job, Roman. Now you’re dismissed. We’ll handle this. We’ll take ’em to the facility.”

Roman complained. “There are four prisoners—you’re outnumbered.”

Lynch hovered over him. “There are three women and one man. We can handle it. I’m the lead, and I’m tellin’ you, you’re dismissed!”

Roman stormed off in a huff as Lynch and G.R. shoved the “prisoners” toward the boat.

Bach whispered to Star that they were safe—in the hands of his former crewmates.

G.R. monitored Roman’s departure. As soon as Roman crossed the bridge, G.R. quietly said, “Okay guys, we have to make it look official, so keep movin’. I can’t believe we’re all together.”

Lynch’s lanky, uniformed body paced from behind with an authoritative cadence. He spoke in a hush, “As soon as we’re on the boat we gotta think fast. If anyone out there puts two and two together, they’ll be here by the hundreds and I guarantee we’ll never see each other again.”

G.R. contained his excitement, whispering as he walked, “Lynch and I never thought we’d see you again, Bach. We heard you were alive in Dura, but we didn’t trust the word of those in the Ultimate World. We worried that we’d lost Deni and Kaz forever.”

Lynch stepped close to Bach and whispered from the side of his mouth. “They keep us separated here—men and women. Overpopulation, rain, and no land created a crisis. Physical contact between genders is forbidden. Birth is by scientific methods—test tubes. One can’t be born until someone dies.” He waited for a moment then shared another troubling fact. “And the dead aren’t buried or cremated; their tissues ’n’ organs are used in research or converted to usable materials.”

G.R. added, “There’s no feeling between the sexes. Intimate contact is dead.”

With the prison shuttle boat in sight at a small pier ahead, Lynch quickened his pace to Kaz’s side. “I couldn’t wait to find you, honey,” his voice wavered. “I’ve been tryin’ to get to you ever since me ’n’ G.R. got here, that’s why I trained as a guard, thinkin’ maybe somehow I’d find you.”

Kaz wept.

A flashing cringe, like the jolt from a shaving nick, struck Bach’s heart at hearing Lynch profess his affection for Kaz. Eyes focused on nothing, he ambled on half-numb, remembering when the Specter appeared and taunted him with the threat that Kaz would fall in love with Lynch. He thought back to a half-hour earlier when he found Kaz at the gyroscope tournament. She’d shown no affection for him—only a plea for rescue. Bewildered, he snuck glimpses of Kaz and Lynch, trying to picture them together.

No one spoke the rest of the way to the dock. But as soon as they got there, G.R. whispered, “Act reluctant to board the boat. We’ll force you, so let’s make it believable—in case someone’s watching from afar.”

The detainees displayed admirable acting abilities, balking on the walkway and creating a generalized ruckus. Lynch and G.R.’s award-winning performances included tormenting their charges with bayonets and barking stern orders. For no reason, with a strange twist of violence, Lynch confined Bach in a headlock and pushed him aboard.

Somewhere in his psyche, Bach felt his rival’s perverse pleasure in the unnecessary force. He muttered an obscenity under his breath.

G.R. ferried the cabin cruiser from the lagoon. As the island faded from view, he and Lynch tossed off their headgear, Kaz flung herself crying into Lynch’s waiting arms, and Deni brushed tears of relief from her big dark eyes. Bach sat in stunned silence. Star looked on.

The more Bach thought about Lynch’s words to Kaz, the more he struggled to hold his emotions and his tongue. Suddenly, he blurted out, “Kaz, are you under mind control? Are you and Lynch a couple?”

Lynch reacted first. “It’s not mind control, Bach.” He brushed a lock of hair from Kaz’s face. “Our confinement on Ulwor led to trust, and trust led to love.”

Kaz dropped her left hand to her side. “I’m sorry, Bach. The Rooks took the ring you gave me.”

An uncomfortable silence followed and Bach’s clenched jaw seemed set in concrete.

But as the others rushed back into conversation and shared their latest experiences, the chatter escalated. G.R. rose from the captain’s chair with a shout. “Quiet!” Then he snorted a laugh and whispered, “This isn’t a party ship. You’re prisoners, ya know.”

Holding Kaz at his side, Lynch looked out the cabin window. “Cut the motor to half throttle as we near the isolation jail. We need time to come up with a plan.”

Bach hid his resentment and focused on the matter at hand. He looked at the others. “I have to apologize. You all haven’t met Star Rider, Altemus’s daughter.”

“Pleasure,” Lynch said with a gentlemanly nod.

“Star Rider?” G.R. gulped. “Star Rider? There’s a real old song on Earth called ‘Starrider.’ I loved it when I was a little kid. That song sparked my dreams of being an astronaut.”

“I was named for a song about a child who travels on a star,” she said.

G.R. flashed a toothy grin. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman with eyes like blue stars. Pleased to meet you, Star Rider—”

Bach interrupted, “How soon can we get out of here, G.R.? We’re short on time—fulfilling a divine calling.”

“Divine calling?” G.R. mused.

Star added, “The Creator conveyed a message to Bach to pick up two inhabitants and animals from every planet.”

Lynch mumbled, “Bach talked to the Creator?”

“Two people and animals from each of the planets? Where do you put all these people and animals?” Deni asked.

“In our ship, the uh, Ark,” Bach said.

Kaz looked at Bach with huge eyes. “Ark? Are you kidding?”

“Stop it,” snapped Deni, “I want to hear this.”

Kaz wrapped her arms around Lynch. “Like Noah’s ark in the Bible?”

“It’s starting to seem that way,” Bach replied. “Acting on the Creator’s instructions, Star’s father and I reconfigured and restored the space station and the two smaller ships. Now we call it the Ark. It’ll accommodate everyone. It’s a long story.”

“Where are you taking your passengers?” Kaz asked.

“Back to Jenesis, to Dura.”

“So we can go too, right?” Kaz asked.

Bach sighed. “Uh, there’s a problem.”

Lynch narrowed his eyes. “A problem?”

“We can only take one man and one woman, and we’ll recognize them by a certain symbol. All four of you have that symbol.”

“What symbol?” asked G.R.

“The one you’re wearing. To you, it’s planet Earth’s identifier, but here in space the Creator called it a symbol of hope.”

G.R. and Lynch grasped their pendants. Kaz studied hers. “Well,” she said. “You said the Creator sent you, so I want you to know I’ve gotten reverent big time since seeing the Specter’s evil works.” She clung to Lynch, eyes flitting back and forth between Deni and G.R. “Who else are you going to take?”

Deni calmly said, “You aren’t any more reverent than I.” She looked at Bach. “Both Kaz and I communed with the Creator.”

“Now wait just a minute.” Lynch jumped from Kaz’s grasp. “Me ‘n’ G.R. got religion too. G.R. found a grotto where the light beamed down through a crack in the rocks. We’d sit there in a canoe, in the light—it shone right on us. That’s where we got strength to get through this.”

“We all have the symbol.” G.R. flashed his pendant. “Why can’t you take all of us?”

After thinking about G.R.’s comment, Star whispered to Bach. “We still have extra spaces on the roster.”

Bach almost shouted, but caught himself in time. “It’s another challenge! Another time for spiritual discernment.” The crewmates all stared at him. He shifted in his seat and looked Star squarely in the eyes, as if seeking confirmation. “I can’t see where we’d find any other man and woman to bring in this situation—the way the planet is divided. And we didn’t see any other symbols. We have to take them.”

She nodded.

“Plus that,” Kaz said slyly, “I can get you all the sea life. You said you need animals. I can get them for you.”

“Where you gonna get ’em?” asked Lynch. “We can’t go fishin’ now. Then how would we get ’em to the Ark?”

“Deni and I discovered a test lab one day,” Kaz replied. “We were on the supply boat and took a wrong turn, sorta on purpose, my idea, and found dozens of aquariums with babies set aside for experimentation. The mermaid you saw on the way over is a result of the Specter’s pleasure in scientific tampering. She’s the only one he’s raised to adulthood.”

Bach said, “The only one?”

“Yeah, it’s sad. She longingly looks to the shore, but swims away when we try to communicate with her.”

“Then we can’t take her,” he said.

“Why not?” asked Kaz.

“We’re taking two of all species.” He looked around. “Back to business. So the animals we’ll be taking aboard are hatchlings and baby sea life in aquariums?”

“Yeah,” Kaz said. “All marine species are there, categorized by stages of experimentation.”

“How do you know which stage is which?” asked G.R. “In my opinion, we shouldn’t be taking mutants.”

Kaz sighed hard. “It’s obvious, G.R. The newly captured sea life are held in aquariums outside the lab in a screened area with wooden walkways between them. We won’t even have to enter the water or the lab.” Her tone softened when she spoke to Lynch, “Do you know who’ll have guard duty tonight at the labs—male or female?”

“It’s male tonight.”

“Good,” she said. “In your uniforms, you and G.R. can detain them, then stand guard while we smuggle the sea life to the boat. Then we can lower the spillway and get right to the co-op landing site. There are carts there used to load and unload co-op ships and local vessels. It won’t be too hard. So as soon as it gets dark….”

“How long?” Bach asked.

“Should be any time now. The light source here is a man-made satellite that switches on and off automatically. You’ll love it; it just slams to darkness.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that! No dusk, no dawn—just slam, pitch-black night. In the morning, bam!” she clapped her hands. “Daylight!”

“That might be a problem … pitch black,” said Bach.

“No problem,” Deni said. “The satellite switches off at night and the planet’s rotation and dissipating heat create an east wind. We’ll know which way is east. And the main pathways are dimly lit, so we’ll eventually see them.”

#

The isolation jail lay dead ahead—a lone building on a platform on stilts, with iron bars on the windows.

G.R. ferried the cabin cruiser toward the platform’s docking area. He and Lynch put on their uniform helmets before they reached the wooden ladder attached to the pilings.

“We have to time this perfectly,” Lynch said, “unload you as prisoners, then sneak you right back on the boat as soon as night hits.”

Stalling in anticipation of darkness, the four detainees resisted and acted hostile as they climbed from the boat to the dock, but their tactics wasted only a few minutes. Lynch and G.R. dallied as they led them to the solitary prison, then Lynch stood guard outside while G.R. took them just inside the door and waited.

Like a dying flash of lightning, the satellite switched off and the light of day snapped to total blackness. The all-surrounding pit of night erased the last images in the six fugitives’ eyes, and the east wind blew in.

“Whoa! Shocking!” Bach stated.

“See? Slam, instant night, told you.” The chiding voice had to be Kaz’s.

“Let’s go,” Lynch said.

Unable to see even a few inches ahead, the renegades listened to the lapping water and the creaking from the boat rubbing against the pilings, then used their feet to feel along the plank to the ladder. Rung by rung they climbed down to the boat. Then Lynch turned the craft around and set out into the wind at slow speed with no running lights. He spoke in a whisper. “We have to think up an excuse why me and G.R. are at the hatcheries at night—somethin’ good enough to divert the duty guards. Put your brains in gear.”

“Why don’t you just strong-arm them? Tie them up and leave ’em. Someone will find them later.” The voice was Star’s, but the words seemed generated by someone else.

“Huh?” Bach’s voice was higher than usual. “Star … I never thought I’d hear you talk like that.”

“It’s the path of least resistance. We’re in a hurry,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Let me tie them up,” Kaz whispered, rubbing her hands together with an evil grin that no one saw.

They’d covered a short distance when the boat softly ran aground. But the black night made it impossible to tell how near they were to the test lab. The six renegades eased overboard and waded ashore, then linked hands and slipped through the tenebrous wall of night counting every step and turn. They soon sighted a lighted pathway.

A few yards from the laboratory, Lynch and G.R. proceeded with a plan. The two snuck to the front of the facility and positioned themselves on opposite sides of a big, steel entryway door. Lynch unsheathed his bayonet and struck the metal door dead-center. A gong-like reverberation quivered his body. The door swung open and the guards raced out with weapons drawn. The element of surprise worked to the renegades’ favor, and they instantly overpowered and tied up the two watchmen. Lynch stood guard while the others moved in for the heist. G.R. took a light from a guard and went back for the boat. He ferried the craft along the shore to the lab where the outlaws safely boarded the aquariums and young marine life.

The six and their cargo then made their way to the Ark without incident.

#

Bach and Star prepped for liftoff while Deni and G.R. excitedly checked out the astounding renovations to the three ships. Lynch and Kaz stayed outside, caught up in a personal reunion.

Over rumbling pre-flight generators, G.R. yelled from aft cabin, “What incredible technology. I can’t believe what you’ve done to these ships.”

Deni chimed in from a distance, “Awesome. I like the animals’ habitat. I met two very intelligent and friendly apes. And the water-filled chamber running the perimeter is spectacular.”

Bach smiled and waved an imaginary magic wand, “Built to the Creator’s specifications. Still don’t understand why.” He reared back and yelled to Deni and G.R., “Star’s readying for takeoff. Want to watch how we operate?”

“I want to fly it!” Deni rushed to the flight deck and leaned over Star’s shoulder. She couldn’t help but notice the enchanting fragrance surrounding the beautiful Duran.

Bach offered Deni and G.R. headsets, but both declined. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’ll get louder when we fire up the engines. The floor vibrates from the power.” He looked back through the cabin. “Lynch and Kaz come in yet?”

Deni shook her head. “Not yet. They wanted a few minutes alone, but it’s longer than a few minutes.”

G.R. groaned. “In the middle of everything they make time for that?”

“You’d do the same thing,” Deni said.

“Well, go get ’em. It’s time to go,” Bach said.

“I’ll go.” Deni headed to the ramp.

“I’ll go with ya,” G.R. said, following behind and teasingly pinching at her sides. “It’s pitch dark out there and I wouldn’t want the bogeyman man to get ya.”

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

With the generators idling, and minutes from liftoff, Star turned to Bach. “I’m glad we rescued your crewmates. How do you feel about Kaz and Lynch together?”

He closed his eyes. “I got an adrenalin rush when we found her, then a shock at seeing her with Lynch, and it hurts. But so much has happened since we left Earth. We’ve all changed.”

Star nodded. “She doesn’t seem right for Lynch, but I don’t really know either of them yet.”

“She used to detest him.” Bach looked back through the empty cabin. “Where is everybody?”

“They’re all still outside.”

He jumped up. “They won’t hear a yell. I’ll get ’em.”

When Bach stepped onto the ramp and into the darkness, a huge gloved hand slapped hard over his mouth and a powerful, bear-like arm encircled his rib cage with a pressure so strong most of the air rushed from his lungs. He reactively reached back, clasped his hands around the assailant’s neck and bent forward at the same time, flipping the enemy over his head. The struggle moved from the ramp to the ground where a second adversary stepped in to help. Uttering muffled obscenities against a bitter-tasting chain mail glove grinding against his teeth, Bach struggled to free himself from a headlock. But the first assailant regained control and shoved him toward the Ark. Still scuffling, he saw an enemy ship parked nearby. But it wasn’t a red boomerang like the Rooks’ ships. This one looked like a three-dimensional kite resting upside down on its big end.

He tried harder to break free, and in the midst of the conflict noticed the assailants’ white, skin-tight, head-to-toe bodysuits, and bulging, iridescent, fly-eye goggles that made them look like aliens depicted in old science fiction movies.

The captor shook Bach and spoke in an unnatural voice that seemed almost mechanized. “Don’t try to fight. We know you’re unarmed.”

Jaw clenched, Bach asked, “Who are you?”

“Rooks—the new generation.” The Rook pushed Bach onto the ramp. “Lead me to the solid fuel.”

Bach continued to resist. “This ship doesn’t use solid fuel. We burn liquid—changed it to accommodate Earth’s old tech—”

The Rook jerked him, cutting him off. “Liquid fuel! Ha! Are you so void of brain cells that you don’t even know that we hacked into your restoration specs?”

“Those specs were dummied up just for you. I’m tellin’ you it’s liquid fuel.”

The Rook gripped Bach in an elbow lock around his throat and shoved him up the ramp. “Don’t make me mad,” he said. “We know this isn’t a regular mission. And keep your mouth shut.” The accomplice silently followed along toting boxes and silvery sacks.

When the invaders entered the Ark with Bach, Star jumped to her feet. The second Rook rushed to the cockpit and shoved her onto the bench. At the same time, Bach’s captor shouted at her, “Cut the generators, you’re not going anywhere.”

Star looked the invaders up and down, and somehow knew they were Rooks. “How did you get here? We didn’t detect anything incoming.”

“We’re smarter than you. Now kill the generators,” the second one said.

She stared at him, but didn’t react.

His fly-eye goggles focused on her face as he grasped an oval-shaped, light-emitting device hanging from a chain around his neck, then turned and aimed it at Bach. “Okay, have it your way.”

“Don’t,” she yelled, “I’ll deactivate.”

As Star shut down the generators, Bach grappled with his captor. But the Rook prevailed and slammed Bach’s face against the wall. His eyes closed involuntarily as he struggled to breathe through a contorted nose and mouth. The Rook yelled at Star, “Don’t do anything heroic and don’t make any signals. Pack up all the solid fuel—and I mean all. If you don’t comply, if I find one piece after you’re through, it will be very unpleasant for your crewmates.”

“What’ll you do?” Bach grunted. The Rook pushed Bach’s face harder against the wall, bloodying his nose.

“I told you to shut up,” said the Rook. “But let’s just say your crewmates will be ‘dispatched’ into deep space. You and Star, however, could be of use, so you can spend time here on Ashkelon until we’re ready to put you to work.” He threw his head back with an evil laugh. “All those animal species you boarded. Picture it. You and all of them on a planet with no land.” He laughed again. “We’ll hold your country hostage while we analyze the fuel and duplicate the formula. After we take over Dura and put everyone out of their misery, it’s onward to conquer other galactic zones.”

Earlier, when Star shut down the thrusters, she turned on a computerized security program. Although the voice of the Rook restraining Bach was somewhat distorted by the bodysuit, she’d heard it before. Wilde’s name showed up on the ID screen. She faced her former countryman. “Hello, Wilde. Looks like the game is over and you win.”

“Yes, my little Star,” he hissed, “I’ve directed the ultimate coup. Now you’ll answer to me, so stop wasting time and pack up that fuel!” He looked at his accomplice and used his head to motion him to Star’s side. “Watch her every move, Kwan.”

Bach bristled at Wilde’s taunting of Star, and his skin crawled at the thought of his adversary’s hands restraining him. “Waste your time, fool. You’ll never figure out the formula.”

Wilde twisted a fistful of Bach’s hair until his scalp rose, then jammed his knee into his back.

Star stepped to the fuel storage bin and unloaded the fuel like a pickpocket going through a designer suit. “Our travels have consumed all but these last few briquettes,” she lied, as she glanced toward Wilde. “We don’t have enough to get back to Dura.”

He sneered, “How sad. Unload it.”

With two shoebox-sized containers filled with briquettes, Star spent more time than necessary taping the boxes shut as the agitated accomplice bobbed like a child waiting for a birthday surprise. She looked at him with mock kindness. “I wouldn’t want you to spill any.”

“Nice of you to care.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Why do you have to fight Dura?” she blurted out. “Why not take us back as associates? We can work together to restore our zone.”

The accomplice grasped the light-emitting device hanging around his neck and pointed it between her eyes. “Shut up, pitiful Star, or I’ll muddle your brain.”

Two Rooks stormed up the ramp and stopped short inside with a salute. “Chief, we need you back on the ship—a female prisoner’s out of control.”

Wilde blew out a hot breath and yelled, “Get back there and take care of it. What kind of agents are you? How can you not control a female? Put her in restraints.” As the two ran from the ship, Wilde barked at his accomplice, “Make Star hurry up, she’s taking too long with that fuel.”

Star spoke to Wilde without looking at him. “Everything we have is in these two boxes.”

He yelled, “You haven’t emptied the chamber.”

“You won’t need what’s in the chamber,” she said calmly.

“Look, Star, I’m not playin’ around. Get the fuel from the chamber!”

“Look, Wilde…” she opened the shaft, stuck her hand inside, and flung a glob of brown slime on the floor at his feet “…there’s liquid in the chamber. The solid fuel converts to liquid to burn in Alpha’s engines.”

“Told you,” Bach said with a grunt.

Wilde loosened his grip on Bach and motioned to his ally. “Check that out, Kwan. She’s stalling.” He mumbled to himself, “It’s not possible they changed the specs.” Waiting impatiently, he noticed the nameplate from Altemus’s office door just inches from Bach’s face. He reached over with a smirk and tauntingly picked at the raised gold lettering. “Isn’t this a nice touch? The old dictator’s nameplate. He had to lay claim to one final piece of crap.”

Bach’s jaw clenched and his body stiffened. Star froze and held her breath.

Wilde looked at Star, then at Bach, then at the nameplate, and at the same time slowly curled his gloved fingers around the plaque and pulled. When nothing happened, he focused on Star’s emotionless face and tried again, pushing sideways. The plaque slid aside. A puff of air exited his nose. “A secret fuel chamber.” He laughed. “I have to admit, you guys are kinda clever. I’m almost impressed. Now, remove the briquettes.”

“They’re irretrievable—vacuum-drawn into the shaft,” she said.

Wilde’s voice coarsened. “Last warning, Star, stop stalling. There’s no vacuum chamber, and a fuel conversion chamber is a lame ruse. We saw the specs. This old piece of prehistoric rubble couldn’t even be configured to hold the full amount of fuel you’d need. Don’t underestimate the Specter’s army; we did our homework. And in case you don’t know who we are, well, it’s me and Lavender Rose—Bach’s amorous little pursuer.” He shouted harshly at Kwan, “Get the fuel!”

Bach’s bloody nostrils flared in anger, but silence was his only weapon.

Kwan shoved another empty box into Star’s hands and she began ejecting the chamber’s fuel.

The two Rooks stormed in again from outside and one yelled to Wilde, “Come, now! We’ve tried everything, but we can’t control that one!”

Wilde eased his hold on Bach and motioned to the two. “Get over here and keep him restrained while I handle it.” He headed into the night with a snort just as a sky-wide lightning bolt zigzagged through the blackness.

Then came an earsplitting crack of thunder that sounded like it ripped the planet in half, and the sky let loose with blasting, torrential rain, as if the floodgates of heaven had opened.

Kwan handed the boxed fuel to one of the Rooks and sent him back to their ship, then he grabbed Star by the back of the neck. “Check one last time, ’cause I’m going to look, and if you’ve missed any, you die.”

She knocked his hand away, stared at his bug-eyed goggles, and without saying a word stormed aft.

He chased after her, “That’s it! You die!”

She opened a cabinet and held out the iridescent purple box for him to see. “Do you know what this is?” she coolly asked.

Bach watched in shock. “Star! What’re you doing? You can’t give him the EMOG. Star, don’t!”

She pushed the small, weighty box to Kwan’s chest. “Take it! This activates the fuel. It’ll even boost the power of your liquid fuel if you use it correctly.”

The Rook opened the box excitedly and fondled the bright blue EMOG. “So, Altemus’s superior solid fuel was a hoax. The final ingredient isn’t chemical at all—it’s a device.”

The cabin lights dimmed and warnings chimed.

Star closed the box while it was still in Kwan’s hand and blamed the power surge on the rainstorm. “Boy, that storm sure is powerful.”

He pressed close to her and demanded, “Now tell me how to use it on our liquid fuel.”

She continued, as if reluctant. “Always keep it closed so the power doesn’t drain. Then, at liftoff, as soon as you’re airborne, hold it against your generator.”

“Excellent! Now we really will be rulers of other kingdoms!” Still gloating, Kwan pushed Star back to the cockpit and signaled the accomplice to release Bach. The two Rooks headed out the door.

Bach yelled at their backs, “What about our crew? Let them go.”

“We got what we came for,” hissed a voice blending into the raging downpour. “Enjoy life on Ashkelon.”

Bach and Star hurried to the ramp, anxiously waiting for their crewmates. But when minutes flew by and the four didn’t return from the enemy ship, the pair’s concerns grew.

Then, through the darkness in blinding rain and thunder, G.R. raced into the Ark, followed by Lynch and Deni. Star moved to the cockpit to close the ramp.

“No!” Deni shouted. “Kaz is still with the enemy.”

The Arkmates caught glimpses through the storm with each lightning strike, but there was no sign of Kaz.

Bach automatically started out the door. “I’m goin’ to get her.”

Lynch grabbed him. “I’ll get her.”

G.R. pulled Lynch back just as Kaz ran from the Rook’s ship.

She bolted up the ramp and into the Ark shouting, “Quick, close the ramp. They might come back.”

“Come back?” Star closed the ramp.

“Some jerk named Wilde was boastin’ about gettin’ a secret device, leaving us without fuel, and how he tortured Bach, so I delivered him a cruel blow, if you know what I mean.”

“Kaz, they could have killed you!” Deni said with a huff.

“They won’t be back,” Bach stated. “They got what they wanted.”

G.R. groused, “And we’re here on Ashkelon for the rest of our days?”

“In a ship with assorted animals ‘n’ people from other planets all havin’ special environmental needs? This can’t be happenin’,” Lynch said.

“This rain will be catastrophic,” Deni added. “The waterways are already at their limits.”

“Well, I’m not going back to live with that community of women on Ashkelon where I can’t be with Lynch,” Kaz snapped. She moved to within inches of Star’s face. “Didn’t you keep any fuel? You weren’t dumb enough to give them all the fuel were you?”

“I had to give it to them or they would have killed us,” she calmly stated.

Kaz wrung her hands and paced. “Death’s probably better than what’s in store. You haven’t lived on Ashkelon; you don’t know all the rules and restrictions.”

Star looked out a porthole. White-hot flashes of light lit up the sky, highlighting the enemy ship as it ascended into the storm with its high-intensity orange lights pulsating. The craft was barely airborne when a lightning bolt and clap of thunder struck with the force of a concussion bomb. A frazzle of blue-white sparks zipped around the ship’s kite-shaped framework making it look like a high-voltage skeleton momentarily suspended in space. When it plummeted to the ground and exploded, tons of debris propelled hundreds of yards in all directions.

Flaming projectiles hurtled toward the Ark’s portholes and Lynch dodged instinctively. “Damn! They dropped like a rock.”

“Definitely a mechanical malfunction,” G.R. said.

Star checked stats on a computer, talking to herself. “Was it the EMOG or lightning that brought them down?”

“What’s an EMOG?” Deni asked.

“A device developed by my father to detect the death lake’s cycles. But it had a secondary aspect that was unwanted until now. It scrambled instrumentation.”

Bach added, “Altemus made a protective box and put the EMOG aboard. Star gave it to the Rooks and told them it was the final step necessary to activate the solid fuel. She told them it would also boost their liquid fuel. Sure enough, their curiosity did them in. It scrambled more than their instruments.”

“That was the plan,” Star said with a grin. “But I’m not ruling out divine intervention. That miraculous electrical charge lit up the whole planet. The EMOG may have attracted a forcefield.”

Lynch looked into the torrential rain, then signaled Bach and G.R. “C’mon, guys, time to head into the face of the storm and find our fuel.”

The men headed out with Star reminding them, “Make it as quick as you can. The Ultimate World’s security will know their guys are down. When the Rooks don’t respond, they’ll be out looking for them.”

*****

In the black night, white hot flashes of lightning struck all around, and thunder rocked the planet like sonic booms.

Pelted by wind-lashed rain, barely able to see, the three men scoured the waste-strewn area. Bach yelled from the right side, “Anybody find anything?”

Lynch’s words could barely be heard from the left. “No. Rain’s skinnin’ me alive.”

A vertical lightning bolt struck a large metal shard nearby, sending it twisting through the air. Fiery sparks flew and the crewmates ducked in reaction.

Crawling and plowing through the wreckage, Bach found a box of waterlogged fuel. He tucked it under his arm and crouched at a run to Lynch’s side, reaching him just as another bolt struck nearby. The mighty, thunderous reaction knocked them both backwards.

Lynch said something, but his words blew back into his lungs as a wall of wind slammed the area and a sudden temperature drop delivered marble-sized hail that bounced a foot high when it hit.

Bach hollered, “Where’s G.R.?”

“Don’t know!”

Soaked to the bone, eyes driven shut by the frigid rain, they searched and yelled for their crewmate, but no one yelled back. Hunched over, Bach went one way, Lynch the other.

A blinding flash of lightning fractured the air, turning pitch darkness into electric gold for a split-second. Bach and Lynch saw G.R. flat on his back a few yards away—eyes wide open, and with the stricken expression of someone about to die a horrible death on his face. They pulled him to his feet and pushed him back to the ship as he kept repeating that his brother was once struck by lightning.

Star closed the ramp just as Ashkelon’s dams and spillway gates gave way. With oceans and seas cresting in forty-foot waves, the Ark’s landing site quickly flooded from rapidly rising water and was in the danger zone for a washout.

Deni and Kaz treated G.R. for shock while Bach and Lynch headed to the flight deck with the box of wet fuel.

“Just one box.” Frustration hung from Bach’s words.

With rips of thunder sounding like explosions, and blinding lightning dancing around the craft incessantly, there was little time to explore how to get the meager ration of wet fuel to work. Star and Lynch focused on the data center; Bach tried to figure out how to dry the fuel fast.

Challenged by the dilemma, Star grabbed a pen and touchpad. Her hand flew across the surface writing dozens of formulas. A maze of statistics flickered on the glass panel. Her whisper spoke volumes, “No … no! Oh, come on!”

“Can I help?” Lynch asked.

“We need a miracle.”

Lynch moved to Bach’s side. “What about the ingredient Altemus added as the last step, can you add more of that? It might promote combustion.”

Bach shook his head and talked as he worked. “It’s not an ingredient.”

“It’s not? Then how did he activate it?”

“There’s a catacomb under the Skyprisms with dozens of passageways. Altemus used his hovercart to navigate through the burial plots to an exit near the holy hill. Then he’d ride to the summit, place the fuel in the light and pray for the Creator’s blessing. The fuel is powered by the light.”

Lynch gulped. “The last ingredient is power from the light?”

“Yep.” Bach pecked on the keyboard and flipped an overhead switch. “Endowed by the Creator, and foolproof because the Specter won’t go near the mount.”

“We could use that power now,” Lynch replied.

Deni, G.R., and Kaz watched tensely as Star tackled a blitz of calculations on a computer. She wrote on the touchpad. Data flashed on the electro-brain panel. She studied the statistics, then wrote some more. “That’s it! Our miracle!” she announced.

Bach slid across the bench and looked over her shoulder. “Miracle?”

“The fake chamber with the liquid in it. It’s not fake.”

“It’s full of brown slimy stuff.”

“That slimy stuff is a propellant. It’ll significantly extend the solid fuel’s burn time.”

“Extend the burn time? The fuel’s wet,” he complained. “And the briquettes don’t fit in that chamber.”

“They’ll fit now that they’re wet. Load it.”

“Star, if it doesn’t work, we’ll never get it back out. We won’t have another chance.”

“It’ll work,” she said.

Bach reluctantly slid the briquettes into the liquid-filled chamber.

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Frozen in silence, the crew watched as energy from the fuel cell steadily grew in intensity. Then a roaring vibration indicated ignition of the propellant cocktail.

“Lift her off,” Bach yelled to Star.

The Ark ascended over the rising seas of Ashkelon with a strong, steady thrust.

Star calculated the distance to Dura against the sparse measure of fuel and brown slimy stuff now critical to their survival. They’d have enough fuel to make it if no additional demands were made on the engines.

During the flight, the crewmates ate, checked on the passengers and animals in the modules, and slowly unwound. Deni curled up in a wall hammock and massaged her neck with a sigh. “I’m so tired. It seems we’ve lived a lifetime since leaving Earth.”

The mention of Earth got Kaz’s attention. “Hey, Bach. We’ll be going back home soon, right?”

“That was my original plan,” he replied.

“Original plan? What’s changed? With this technology we can make it back to Earth, can’t we? We can’t be stuck here forever. We’ll never survive here; things are too different.”

G.R. spoke up. “Think about it Kaz, it’s not that different.”

“I’m not staying here. I’ll find a way to go home.”

Lynch put his finger to her lips. “Shhh. Let’s talk about it later, honey. It’s a long way off.”

Bach wrestled with whether or not to share something with his crewmates, but his good news couldn’t wait. He stood and announced, “I have a secret in my back pocket!” He flashed a knowing smile and waited until the crewmates focused on him. “When we rebuilt these ships to the Creator’s specifications, I slipped in a spec of my own.”

“Like what?” Lynch asked.

“I built the E-module to fly independently of the mother ship.”

Lynch hollered, “Bingo!”

“As soon as we get back to Dura and you guys are mainstreamed, we’ll put our heads together,” Bach said. “The E-module’s just temporary quarters for those we’ve picked up, so our first move will be to integrate them into the Skyprisms. It might require constructing another Skyprism with the different environments, but I think we can pull off whatever it takes in six months. Then we’ll need to secure enough fuel to take us all the way home.”

“Whoo.” Kaz let out a little yelp. “Outta here in six months?”

Star listened from the cockpit, but said nothing.

Bach continued. “I spent long hours refurbishing that module to withstand the trip to Earth. We’ll have onboard food from the hydroponic gardens, and all the elements we need to sustain life.”

“Let’s do it faster than six months,” Lynch added.

“By the way,” Deni interjected, “has anyone kept track of time? I’d be interested in knowing what month this is—Earth time.”

Kaz said, “My insides tell me it’s around Christmas. Doesn’t it seem like it should be Christmas?”

G.R. rubbed his belly. “Ho, ho, ho.”

Kaz ignored him and asked the others, “If you could have anything you want for Christmas, what would it be?”

Lynch laughed. “Three more wishes.”

“That’s a boring old one,” G.R. complained before offering, “I’m an old-fashioned guy. A conformer bed, popcorn, and plasma video with voice-remote for me.”

“Security,” Deni said. “I hate indefinite things.”

“A safe landing at Dura,” Bach said.

Star leaned over and asked Bach, “What is … Christmas?”

He shook his head and smiled, again reminded of her alien status in a group of earthlings. “Christmas…,” he replied, gesturing with his hands as if talking to a student, “well, it depends on your beliefs. It began as a celebration of the birth of the Creator’s son. The Son was given gifts, so people give each other gifts.”

“Our Creator has a son? Does his son live on Earth?”

“He did once, but not anymore. He sacrificed himself for the deliverance of mankind, then returned to his Father, our Father, in heaven.”

“Where’s heaven?”

“It’s—” Bach started to reply, but Lynch cut him off.

“Let me explain it,” he said. “It’s not a place on a map. Heaven is the Creator’s dwelling place from where mankind and all good things have come. It’s not tangible to mortals. Heaven and the Creator’s energy encompass the infinite bounds of space.”

Bach said, “Star, it’s where the tunnel of light originates … where our Creator lives. Our hope and eternal home.”

Lynch continued in his warm, southern drawl. “Now, back to Christmas. Over time it’s lost its meanin’ and people turned it into a commercial event.”

G.R. smirked. “Yeah, everyone gives each other presents they don’t want, and then they all complain. Only part I like is gettin’ holiday time off from work.”

Kaz rolled her eyes. “Oh, G.R., it’s not that bad. Think of all the happy kids and Santa riding in a sleigh drawn by those cute, flying reindeer.”

“And the one with the flashing red nose.” Lynch laughed. “Hey, Bach, on the subject of animals and people, y’all sure picked up a great selection.”

Bach let out a sigh. “It’s been a challenge getting ’em all aboard.”

Star nodded. “While in the animals’ module a while ago, securing Shushan’s sea life, I had an interesting experience with two of the larger mammals. They were friendly, in a human-like way, and seemed to enjoy my attention. Even responded affectionately to my touch.”

“Those are Dolphins,” Deni replied. “At one time, long ago, they were human species.”

Bach stopped what he was doing with a shout, “What?”

“Dolphins,” Deni offered, “are an example of reverse evolution. With the shortage of land on Ashkelon, long before population control became mandatory, people had no choice but to slowly adapt to living in the water.”

Kaz added, “Nowhere else to go, it became a way of life.”

Deni continued, “As time went on, living in and under the water, they eventually evolved into sea dwellers.”

Bach said, “You’re saying dolphins were once human, and not the other way around as some believe?”

“Pretty much bears out the theory,” Lynch said. “Think about it—little babies are birthed under water, they surface for air, and the cycle begins. But it didn’t happen overnight, now. It took eons of evolvin’.”

“Give me a minute to digest that,” Bach said.

G.R. added, “Well, in my opinion it’s perfectly logical, and the planet’s history and stories handed down through the generations bear witness to what could be called a reverse evolution process. You know, even with all my biology training, I never did buy into the man-from-microscopic-organism thing.”

“Bach and I discussed something similar. That perhaps the apes began as man, but reverse evolved to adapt to their toxic environment.” Star said. “They’re certainly an interesting combination of animal and man.”

“I love pondering unexplainable scientific oddities,” G.R. said.

“Oddities are one thing, but I really hate that the mermaid was experimentally made,” Bach said.

“And Varuna probably hates being a mermaid,” Deni said. “Can you imagine how lonely she is, caught in the middle?”

“Varuna? Beautiful name.” Bach shook his head. “Why can’t man leave well enough alone? First a pegasus, then a mermaid.”

Kaz’s eyes enlarged almost twice the size. “You saw a pegasus?”

“As beautiful as you would imagine.”

“Is it in the animals’ module?”

“No. There was just one, a result of nuclear testing and experimentation on Troas.”

Lynch shifted in his seat. “I’m beginnin’ to understand this ark-like mission. We may be the only ones left who’re safe.”

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

With a precious cargo of Arkmates, Arkriders, and animals, Bach carefully allocated the small amount of fuel and burned only the bare minimum as they headed to planet Jenesis.

Star spent a little time trying to reconcile the roster her father had put aboard, then left it at a mid-ship workstation and headed back to the cockpit. “I can’t figure out why my dad made that roster,” she stated. “There’s no one else to pick up, but we still have five empty letters—a, e, p, q, and x, and there are three duplicates—s, t, and y.”

Kaz looked it over. “So whose name would start with a q or x anyway?”

“Maybe you picked up a few wrong ones,” G.R. said.

Star moaned, “Oh, don’t say that. Our searches were challenging, but everyone had the sign.”

“Why don’t you just forget it?” he added. “Too late to do anything about it.”

Lynch sauntered to Kaz’s side and plucked the roster from her hands. “Here, lemme see that.” He studied it for a minute then drawled, “Maybe Rooks?”

“No,” Bach stated. “I don’t think there are Rooks on board. I just don’t have that feeling.”

Star suddenly cried out, “Bach! Gravity lensing detector picked up an occurrence!”

Bach zeroed in on warnings flashing on the viewpanel and yelled, “Oh, God!” at the same time.

Deni, Lynch, Kaz, and G.R. rushed to the cockpit and pressed in behind Bach and Star to see what they were looking at.

“The spectrometer’s showing a change in the galaxy’s composition,” Bach announced. “All space matter is collapsing toward our Ark, not just the planets, but distant stars as well.” He nervously pointed to the panel. “Look. The images are steadily growing larger with a trajectory straight toward our ship.”

Star’s voice wavered. “My father predicted something like this.”

“What are you saying?” Lynch shouted. “How could he know this was coming?”

“Our entire galaxy has been on the verge of instability for two generations. He said it was inevitable that one day an extraordinary external disturbance would be the catalyst that tipped the zone into collapse—precipitate an implosion that creates a black hole that consumes all. Zarephath’s exploding must have triggered it.”

Lynch grumbled, paced, and looked from window to window. “Nothin’ gets out of a black hole—not even light. We’ll disintegrate into atoms.”

Kaz cried out, “God, help us,” and clasped her hands under her chin, whispering a prayer.

Nobody spoke for a time as second by second all matter in the surrounding galaxies zoomed toward the helpless ship. They would soon be surrounded and consumed along with all matter contained in this galaxy in space.

Deni stepped over the bench seat and sat next to Bach to get a better look at his viewpanel. “Doesn’t seem possible … watching a black hole form.”

“Worse, we’re heading into it,” said G.R.

Bach stared fixedly at the approaching cosmological bodies, then grabbed a handheld device. “This is a crazy idea, but I’m going to monitor the light of an adjacent galaxy to see how it’s being deflected so I can calculate where the mass is being collapsed.”

Deni watched over his shoulder. “Doesn’t sound crazy to me.”

Kaz’s voice cracked. “Bach, what’s going to happen to us? If the planets are destructing, that means Jenesis is gone!”

He turned to speak, his face more determined than they’d ever seen. “I’m remembering theories of Hawking and Penrose, and there may be a way to survive.” He swung around and handed the portable computer with downloaded data to Lynch. “Compute the intersection point and time of collision.”

Lynch sat nearby with the computer in his lap. “Intersection point,” he mumbled, typing feverishly.

“Deni, Kaz, and G.R.,” Bach ordered, “shut off all lights and unnecessary equipment. We’re going to need all the power we can get.” He turned on warning systems and safety devices in the modules while the crewmates hurried to complete their tasks.

Lynch watched the computer screen, his body as tense as a cat’s when it stalks its prey. When the first results appeared, he let out a whistle that carried through the cabin. “This thing is huge. One hour, seventeen minutes to Doomsday.”

“The intersection point!” Bach said impatiently. “I need the predicted point of impact.”

“Barely ten thousand miles away,” Lynch replied. “Not far enough by a light year for the explosion to miss us, or the resulting black hole not to suck us in like a piece of scrap metal pulled by a giant magnet.”

“We’re going to beat this, and everyone will help!” Bach left no room for debate. “Lynch, calculate the precise reading, log it into navigation, then work with Star to minimize the power consumption of less critical systems. We’ll need every last joule of energy to help control our destiny.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “Deni, you, G.R., and Kaz will manually control the directional thrusters.” He pointed to four viewscreen touchpads on the control panel. Each showed what looked like a small digital spacecraft with directional arrows on it. “Here. These controls guide the Ark up, down, left, and right.”

“What are we doing with the thrusters?” G.R. asked.

“You’re navigating.” Bach pecked like a madman on his touchpad. “We’re going through the maw of the black hole.”

Kaz gasped. “What? Through the opening?”

Bach’s eyes stayed riveted to images on a laser panel. He spoke without looking up. “Exactly one hour before impact, there’ll be enough mass in the event horizon around us to produce a singularity. That’s where nothing can escape its boundaries. Yet a conglomeration this size will not have congealed enough to produce a black hole in the purest sense. In that state, we should, if I interpret Hawking and Penrose correctly, and if their theories were right, find space/time so warped that the forces around us will thrust us beyond the singularity into another dimension—like passing through an instantaneous worm hole before the final galaxial collapse.”

“I’m not sure we should do this,” G.R. warned.

Bach slapped his hand on the padded bench. “Sit here, G.R.”

Deni and Kaz automatically followed.

Lynch buckled in at Star’s side.

Now Bach had the early image of the accretion disk preceding the event horizon in focus on the controller panels. “Everyone keep your eyes dead-center on the disk.” He placed Kaz’s right hand on a thruster touchpad. If we’re high, Kaz, you bring us down. He pointed to the touch control in front of G.R. “If we’re low, G.R., you bring us up.”

Deni already had her hands on her controllers. “Bearing left or right, that’s me,” she said.

“I’ll monitor sound speed in the space plasma,” Bach added.

G.R. suddenly stood, scooted around Kaz and sat on her other side. “Trade spots with me. I’m left-handed.”

Her voice raised an octave. “Now I’m low and you’re high?”

Bach shook his finger at the touchpad images. “The arrow shows the direction it controls, Kaz. If we’re low, you’ll bring us up.” His voice grew rushed and forceful. “I want total focus on those navigation screens, and faultless thruster control.” He checked his monitoring device then added, “If we plan it right, we’ll slide through before the deadly action begins.”

“Adjust your backrests and buckle in tight,” Deni said.

In a stress-driven final attempt at humor, G.R. grumbled, “We’re on the off-ramp to the Twilight Zone.”

“Get ready!” Bach commanded.

Within seconds, a comet glanced off the Ark’s trailing edge, turning it ninety degrees. As the navigators fought to right their course, the ship entered a swirling sheet of gas and dust and everything outside went black. Then came a head-numbing noise accompanied by a fist-sized ball of fire that materialized under the flight deck and rolled through the cabin leaving a blackened trail behind. Smoke alarms blared and onboard sprinklers rained down on the fireball. The big ship pitched and yawed like the last car on a roller coaster.

Beyond the cockpit windows raged what looked like a star war orchestrated by a pyrotechnic madman. Hundreds of incendiary planetary fragments ripped through space dragging flaming silvery tails behind them. Souls of the faithful returning to heaven, flashed through Bach’s mind as a white-hot fireball sped toward the ship. Just before impact it veered left and disappeared. “Don’t blink, and be exact with thrust correction.” That was his final instruction to the others.

The Ark, now beyond the accretion disk and within the event horizon, hurtled inescapably toward the maw.

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Bach touched his face with both hands. His fingers felt icy cold against his cheeks. Am I dead or alive? He glanced around the cockpit feeling like he’d awakened from a drugged sleep. The others, slumped on the padded bench as if they’d napped there, stirred.

Star rubbed her eyes and looked through the windows into the black void of deep space. “Where are we?” she muttered. Wondering if the ship’s systems were functional, she switched on the electro-brain. It booted up with a whir and data refreshed on a monitor. She moved in close and studied the details. “We’ve come through the worm hole with our ship’s settings exactly as we had them,” she announced. “We’re on minimal power.”

Bach wiped his hand across a data panel as if trying to clear away something he didn’t like. “The Milky Way is gone,” he said without emotion.

Kaz moved to his side on the bench. “Gone?”

Star pointed to her panel. “Your solar system, our zones, and all other astral markers in the galaxy were consumed by the black hole.”

Head bowed, Kaz whispered, “Oh, please, please tell me Earth is there.”

“There are no remnants of your solar system,” Star replied.

Lynch, Deni, and G.R. unharnessed themselves and gathered in stunned silence.

Trembling, Kaz reached for Lynch. “Earth is gone,” she muttered. “My family … my cats.”

He helped her from the bench and held her close. “We’ve all lost loved ones and everything else, honey. It’s impossible to understand that we’ll never go home again.”

Deni and G.R. silently watched incoming scans of dormant space on the electrobrain. Overwhelmed, G.R. wrapped his arms around her and struggled to speak. “God pushed the big button and brought down the whole world.”

“Why were we spared?” she asked.

Bach noticed Star fighting back tears. He slid around the bench to her side and they reached for each other at the same time.

As minutes passed, each of the Arkmates grappled with the tragedy in his or her own way.

Deni was first to exchange despair for resolve. She stretched her long legs with a walk to aft ship and announced, “The passengers must be terrified, I’m going to check on them.”

All the idle gadgetry and inoperative advanced technology in the cockpit turned Bach’s thoughts back to age five when he pretended to fly his cardboard-box spaceship to distant realms known only to him. I wish it could be that easy now.

Star looked out at the blackness. “What can we do?”

He pointed to the fuel indicator. “We don’t have enough fuel to go anywhere anyway.”

Star wrote in the journal, then voice-recorded events. Later, she looked up and saw something strange on the cockpit windows—a powdery substance, rain-like in appearance, coating the convex panes.

Bach saw it at almost the same time and stood straight up. He touched the window from the inside. “What the heck?”

G.R. watched the silvery powder accumulate on a porthole, then got up for a closer look. “Meteor dust or cosmic particles?”

Lynch checked it out. “Could be we’re driftin’ through a cloud of somethin’.”

Kaz latched onto Lynch. “We’re gonna die. First we end up in a place like hell,” she choked back tears, “now we’re suspended in space. I’m sick of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Actually, it’s the wrong place at the right time,” G.R. said. “If you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing happens.”

“Oh, be quiet!” she snipped through sobs.

Lynch cradled her head and stroked her disheveled hair. “Stay strong, honey.” His own nerves on edge, he yelled at Bach, “What went wrong in carrying out the Creator’s mission and getting us back to Jenesis?”

“I never had instructions to go back there.”

The thick vein of anger divided Lynch’s forehead. “Well, why didn’t you get all the instructions?”

“I followed the instructions exactly as they were given,” he snapped back. “I assumed we’d return to Jenesis, the Creator didn’t reveal it.”

G.R. sat in a hammock, fretfully tapping his feet on the floor. “Lost in space, endured the impossible, black hole, lost in space.”

“Knock it off,” Bach said. “If we’d made it to Jenesis we’d be dead now. Jenesis is gone.” He looked out. “This is part of the Creator’s plan.”

“And now we’re in that dimension between man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge,” G.R. offered.

Bach sighed. “It’s not the Twilight Zone, G.R.”

Lynch narrowed his beady blue eyes. “No. It’s more like biblical history.”

Kaz stared at him. “What do you know about the Bible?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, kid. And I bet you didn’t know that Balal, the name of the galaxy where we were, is an early form of the word, Babylon, and in scripture, Dura was a province of Babylon. Then we’ve all heard of Jenesis, only spelled differently. The other ten planets had names of ancient cities in scripture, too. But it seems to me that this was another case of Babylon’s falling to ruin.”

“So would the Specter be dead? And his army gone?” Kaz asked.

“Guess we’ll find out sooner or later,” Lynch replied.

“Just remember,” Bach said, “we conquered the foe using the ultimate weapon, the mind, and we can do it again. But now, we need to come up with options for all the lives entrusted to us on this ship.”

Star jumped up. “Oh, gosh, Deni’s still in the E-module. I’ll go check on all of them.”

Bach handed her the a to z roster. “I’m still wondering about this puzzle. Maybe you can figure it out while you’re back there.”

*****

When Star and Deni returned from the E-module, the crewmates gathered around two fold-down tables for a conference. “Let’s have good news first,” Bach said.

“Okay,” Deni replied. “No injured passengers or animals.”

“And no serious damage inside the ship,” Star added.

After an oddly quiet time when no one offered more good news, Bach cleared his throat and said, “Okay. Here’s the bad news. The speck of fuel we have left isn’t even enough to start the engines, but with stored power and our food sources we can remain operational in a space-station mode for a while.”

“How long?” Kaz asked.

“I don’t know. Our hydroponic gardens are producing well, but the bottom line is we didn’t build the ship to sustain life indefinitely. The environmental module is built to fly independently; it runs on either electronic or collected heat. But we don’t have a sun to power it.”

Allowing the others time to worry seemed a bad idea, so Star placed the roster in the middle of the group and changed the subject. “Look. We had a few names wrong.”

“What names were wrong?” asked Bach.

“We assumed Ptero and Xian were spelled phonetically, but it’s p-t-e-r-o. And Xian is spelled x-i-a-n. Even the little fuzzy phroo animal—it’s a phroo, with the ph sounding like an f.”

Deni added, “And Yang goes by his middle name. His real name is Quan—with a q. But there’s a Rook named Kwan, with a k, so Yang uses his middle name.”

“Yes, it was Kwan who took our fuel on Ashkelon,” said Star. “I’m glad to forget him. But the problem is, we still have two letters unaccounted for.”

“Which are?” Bach asked.

“A and e.”

“So we’re missing two people?” Kaz asked.

G.R. said, “Yep! Eleven planets … picked up two each from ten planets, and four of us from Ashkelon. Twenty-six letters in the alphabet—two missing.”

“Why bother with the roster anyway?” Lynch asked in his lazy drawl. “We can’t go get anyone else. It’s a done deal.”

Bach said, “Altemus had something in mind when he put that checklist aboard. Why are there two letters open when we have all the inhabitants?”

Kaz jumped from her seat so fast she knocked over a water bottle in her haste. “I know, I know, I’ve figured it out!” She quickly wiped up the spill.

“This should be good,” G.R. deadpanned with a snort.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t have an ‘opinion,’ nor a clue,” she teasingly countered.

“Do tell, Oh Great One.”

With a satisfied smile stuck to her face, Kaz offered, “When Bach said ‘inhabitants’ instead of ‘people,’ didn’t that ring a bell?”

No one responded.

She waved a hand at Bach, “You did that on purpose didn’t you, Bach? You’re so smart. I bet you did that on purpose. You already know what I’m going to say.”

Not wanting to admit he didn’t know, he shook his head slightly.

Kaz wore a cunning look and replied as if answering a Jeopardy question, “Who are the apes?”

“The apes!” Bach shouted.

“You said they weren’t among the animals of their planet, that they showed up from out of nowhere. They must have names, but they can’t tell us,” she said.

Deni digested the comment, then said, “Maybe this is a case of all that pollution causing a higher form to evolve into a different species.”

G.R. said, “Maybe they’re humans who were taken there by the Specter after an experiment gone wrong.”

Kaz said, “That’s scary.”

“Well, hold those thoughts,” Bach said. “We’ll research and document the possibilities later. They’ll make thought-provoking journal entries.”

“Ape women,” G.R. said, trying to stifle his laugh-snort.

Kaz giggled. “Do you have inside info, G.R.?”

Deni sounded like a mother. “Will you two stop it? Now get serious. We need to figure out their names. Obviously they should start with an A and an E.”

“I do like thinking of them as more human,” Star said.

“Yeah, we should name them,” Lynch said. “And that would mean that picking up four of us on Ashkelon was the right thing to do. The roster’s complete with our names included.”

“I’ll check the old co-op crews’ travel journals to see if they mentioned apes or names,” Deni said.

G.R. reared back on his stool, “Okay, a and e, how about Evolution and Atom, a-t-o-m.”

“Dumb,” said Kaz with thumbs down.

“Not dumb. A logical offering—opposite interpretations of mankind’s beginnings.”

“Amour and Eros?” Lynch said with a grin.

G.R. screwed up his face. “Eros?”

“Erotic love … maybe it’s time you learned.” Kaz hooted.

Deni closed the book. “No mention of apes on Zarephath.”

Star shrugged. “We can list them simply as A and E.”

Chuckling, G.R. said, “I’d prefer real names. Maybe Darwin, or how about Hairy, h-a-i-r-y.” His braying laughter ignored by the crew, he tried again. “Hairy,” he said, snorting.

“Darwin? Hairy? What kind of cornball offerings are those?” Kaz yelped. “They don’t start with a or e.”

G.R. sank back on the stool and folded his arms across his burly chest while the others tried to come up with meaningful names.

All of a sudden, Bach stood and flashed his megawatt smile. “Well, the word atom gave me an idea.” He polished his fingernails against his chest. “And, I like it better every minute.”

“What?” Star asked.

“Let’s call them Adam and Eve. Not a-t-o-m, atom, but a-d-a-m, like the real Adam and Eve.”

“Oh, I like that,” Kaz said.

“Love it!” Deni said.

Lynch shrugged. “Why not?”

G.R. fiddled with his symbol necklace. “Works for me.”

Star said, “Adam and Eve?”

The others tried to answer, but Bach dominated. “The first man and woman placed on Earth by God, the Creator, in the beginning of time.”

“Is this another story from your Bible?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad we have it aboard. I want to read it.”

For a moment, Bach seemed to enter another place in time. When he snapped back, he said, “Gosh, mention of the Bible just brought a powerful memory of our crewmate Faith.” He shivered without meaning to. “She loved anything to do with Noah’s ark—collected all kinds of Noah stuff. Now it almost seems we’re living that Bible story right now. Look around. Kaz joked about Noah’s ark back on Ashkelon, but here we are on Bach’s Ark, civilization has ended, and something outside is coming down like rain.”

Lynch broke the silence that followed Bach’s comments. “Actually, this is like a fast-forward scriptural montage where Noah’s ark meets the opening of the sixth and seventh seals in the book of Revelation.”

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Adrift in the rafters of space, with visibility at zero from the downpour of silvery dust, Bach and crew stopped keeping track of time somewhere after the fifth week.

The E-module Arkriders now mingled freely with those from the other planets, and often spent their time sharing personal stories with the crew in the main cabin. Some tended to the hydroponic gardens, while others cared for the animals.

Bach had tried numerous times to instill hope with enthusiastic talks of survival, but hope had long faded and all were weak from lack of exercise and mental stimulation. Most simply went through the motions necessary to maintain status quo and nothing more.

#

After awakening from a catnap in a wall hammock, Bach yawned and stretched as he moved to the middle of the cabin and did a dozen jumping jacks, then dropped to the floor and cranked off a round of pushups before heading to the cockpit to look once more at the instrumentation. He yawned again, almost mesmerized by the silvery dust sliding down the windows.

Star plopped beside him, arms hanging lifelessly at her sides. “I wish there were enough stored power to run computer games. I’d gladly design a few for mental stimulation.”

Bach shifted his eyes sideways, flexed an arm muscle, and said in a robotic, computer-like voice, “I’d beat you every game.”

She leaned back, smiling in amusement. “I’d build ’em with ciphers you’d never figure out.”

He nodded and sighed. “Yeah, and I wouldn’t have the energy to defend my honor.”

“Your honor?”

He patted his shoulders and chest and stuck his hands in his pockets as if searching for something. “I think I still have it,” he said, dead serious. Then he snapped his fingers in a jazzy rhythm and sang in a lounge-singer voice, “I just want to testify, your honor, that I’ve lost my honor.”

The exhausted two giggled like children and Bach soon lost it with a laughing jag he couldn’t stop.

Star snuffed through her nose and breathlessly said, “You’re too silly.”

He wiped tears from his eyes and groaned, “Ohhh, I needed a good laugh.”

She grabbed him by the arm. “Bach!”

“Yeesss, Star?” he teased.

“Look at the windows!” The energy in her voice got his attention.

He looked at the windows and sat bolt upright. The silver rain had ended, and as the windows cleared the once dark and hopeless view became one of blue, almost heavenly, airspace.

“Oh, God, thank you,” he stammered, turning dials to boot up the view panel.

Star checked a printout with incoming data of an exterior scan. “I can’t believe it. The ship’s sparkling clean, as if polished by a cleanser.” She collected more data.

“Hey!” Bach yelled through the cabin to Deni and G.R. who were snoozing in the alcove hammocks. “Wake up. Come here.” He used the intercom to call Kaz and Lynch back from a visit to the E-module.

With the crewmates gathered around, Star used a hand-held device. “Look at this. I don’t understand it, but there’s an anomaly in this realm of space. It affects our fuel’s density. Energy sensors are showing our fuel’s power output at a hundred times greater than normal. It doesn’t seem possible, unless it’s somehow related to the liquid absorption.”

“Some things can’t be scientifically explained,” Bach said with a burst of energy. “I’ll run a couple of sims.”

“Even if we can use the fuel, where will we go?” Kaz asked, peering out a porthole. “Nothing but blue space.”

“It’s blue because something’s creating a source of energy and light,” Bach replied. “If it’s a sun, we can harness the energy with our solar collectors.”

“It could be something like a daystar that’ll disappear and reappear on schedule,” Star offered.

Star and Bach moved to mid ship to work at the control center. “If we collect enough energy to get the main generators up and instrumentation working, we should be able to burn that fuel and take a tour of space.”

Kaz scurried to aft cabin and rummaged through drawers and cabinets. “Where’s that Bible? I want to find out what happened to Noah’s ark after the rain stopped.”

“They wound up on a mountain,” Lynch said. “Some believe it’s on the lost continent of Atlantis, now under water.”

She thumbed through the Bible’s gilt-edged pages. “Lost in space with no mountains—now what?” She stared at Lynch. “How do you know so much about the Bible?”

“I studied for the ministry in my younger days. Then the heavens called in a different way.”

Her voice squeaked. “You, are half-minister? Holy cow! There really is a lot I don’t know about you.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I have lived a few years longer than you.”

Bach shook his head without looking up.

Kaz changed the subject. “I’ve heard the word, ‘Atlantis’ but never knew the legend behind it.”

Lynch continued. “The philosopher Plato described Atlantis as an island empire on the other side of the center of the world. An Eden on Earth from which sprang all the other cultures—the root of all civilizations.”

G.R. spoke up. “In my opinion, it seems we’re the beginning of a new civilization right here on the Ark—a space-platform world of the future.”

Kaz glared at G.R. like an angry drill-sergeant. “I refuse to live out my life confined on this ship, space platform or not. If there’s a speck of land out there big enough to hold Lynch and me, we’re outta here.”

Lynch smiled. “Sounds romantic. Adam and Eve revisited.”

G.R. tauntingly laughed with his tongue hanging over his bottom lip. “Scary thought. Kaz—the mother of a new civilization.”

“I wish you two would coexist peacefully,” Deni said.

“Just tryin’ to keep it interesting.” G.R. chuckled. “Actually, we love each other like brother and sister.”

“In a very unusual family,” Kaz whispered to herself as she turned more pages in the Bible. A few minutes later she asked Bach, “How many days have we been adrift?”

“This is day forty,” he replied.

Lynch shook his head and said, “Well, you’re talkin’ Earth days. Maybe out here there’s a space/time warp. Maybe it’s been a thousand years.”

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Bach bolted from mid ship to the cockpit, leapt over the bench seat, and booted up a computer. “Hallelujah!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Following on his heels, Star didn’t take time to sit down. “Generators and instrumentation’s working,” she announced. “Life support systems updating.”

“Amen!” Lynch muttered, rushing to the cockpit. “Is everything back up?”

“Yep—and it looks normal,” Bach replied. “Go ahead and restart the subsystems back there.”

Lynch, Kaz, and G.R. swung into action. Deni rushed to the cockpit and sat next to Bach. “I can’t believe it! How did you know we were operational?”

He pointed to the overhead panel and tapped on a keyboard at the same time. “The digital pressurization readout lit up.”

“Anything I can help with up here?” she asked.

“Sit with Star for a minute while I monitor the rollover from emergency power.”

Deni adjusted the bench back higher to fit her tall frame, then settled in as if preparing for a feast. She ran her hand across the controls, spoke into the electronic voice interpreter, wrote on the air panel with the laser pen, and measured light intensity displayed as colors and symbols on a monitor. “Star, what’s the purpose of this one?” She pointed to a small instrument with a touchpad, dials and push buttons.

“It shows when radar detects an object, then calculates distance, and—”

Deni cut her off. “It’s detecting something now.”

Star slid across the bench. “Quick, set that scope sixty degrees from center and get a size measurement. Put the cursor on the laser’s blip to check the range indicator.”

“Too much at once,” Deni grumbled. “Help me.”

Bach stepped back to the cockpit, leaned over Deni’s shoulder, and eyed the data panel. “You can do this. Use the touchpad and enter ‘DP’ for the dimensional picture, then follow the onscreen prompts to find out if it’s coming this way.”

“An asteroid?” Star asked.

“Not enough heat,” Deni stated.

“Any movement?” asked Bach.

“Not toward us. More a rotation.”

“Enlarge it,” Star said.

Deni manipulated two dials and the image filled the screen.

“A rogue planet?” Star wondered aloud. “It can’t be.”

Deni gulped. “Urusa!”

“What?” Bach shoved in next to her. “Move over.”

The downloaded image showed a planet encircled by two crisscrossing bands of water and orbiting its own small sun.

“It’s Urusa,” Deni stated. “Look at it. It looks just like the pictures we had when we were headed there from Earth.”

“Urusa?” Bach stared. The hand of God has touched us again.

Deni shouted to the others, “Hey, guys, come here. Something out there looks like Urusa.”

Lynch was first to the cockpit. He leaned in for a look, then stepped back. “I ain’t gettin’ all excited yet.”

Kaz hesitated then said, “Bach, we’re still on the earthship. Did you keep those observatory pictures and logbooks when you rebuilt this thing?”

“Yes, they’re in a lower port side storage bin. We kept everything.”

Kaz darted to aft ship with Lynch following and the two rifled through the storage holds. She found the AstroLab’s old logbook and read from it on the way to the cockpit. “It says Urusa means Place of Peace. And it says the quadrants created by two crisscrossing bands, believed to be water, appear to have distinctly different environmental habitats. Urusa orbits its own small sun.”

“Voila!” Lynch yelled from aft. “Observatory photos.” He waved a bulging, crinkled envelope through the air.

Deni took it from his hands and pulled out a collection of photos showing Urusa and its sun. The crewmates waited on pins and needles as a printout ejected from the electro-brain.

Star analyzed the incoming data and held a photo at arm’s length for all to see. “The planet’s crisscrossing bands are water,” she stated. “And, yes, the quadrants have varying environments.” She sat back and her voice changed to almost a whisper. “The planet looks like the symbol of hope.”

“It does!” Kaz interjected. “Is this a sign from God, or what? So how long are we talkin’ here?”

“What do you mean?” Deni asked.

“Urusa’s our resting place, like Noah’s ark and Atlantis, so how long till we get there?”

“Longer than I’d like,” Bach replied, “but we will go there.”

Star typed on the keyboard. “We’ll have to conserve every fuel fragment, which means minimum acceleration, minimum deceleration, and optimum speed. But we could conceivably make it there in—”

“Calculate it in twenty-four hour Earth days,” Bach interjected, looking at his watch.

“One hundred and fifty days,” she replied.

G.R. moaned. “More time cooped up contemplating our future.”

“Easy, G.R.,” Bach said, “You know we could get there in less time, but we wouldn’t have enough fuel to decelerate and we’d pancake onto Urusa. We don’t want that.”

The crewmates moved to the mid-ship dining area for a celebratory snack. Lynch grabbed a bowl of dehydrated vegetable flakes and sank into an alcove hammock nearby. “Think about this,” he said, “what if there’s already a civilization on Urusa when we arrive? Talk about your integrated family.”

“Well, in my opinion—”

“G.R.!” Kaz cut him off, “I’ll try to be nice. Please don’t say ‘in my opinion’ any more.”

He huffed. “I’ve been saying it all my life.”

“It distracts from what you’re going to say, and we’ve all heard it enough.” She flopped into a hammock across from Lynch.

G.R. stood with his feet apart and his arms folded across his big chest. “Okay, if you ask me, we’d better be careful if we find anyone. Look what happened to us the last time. We never would’ve envisioned the likes of the Specter and his Rooks.”

Kaz said, “Let’s assume Earth’s research is correct and it’s a virgin planet—a perfect new home.”

Bach jumped to his feet and spoke in a comical W.C. Fields voice. “A new home, a new home, it’s a perfect new home!” Giggles and snorts from the others egged him on, so he held an imaginary microphone and, pretending to be a seasoned reporter, gestured dramatically and spoke in broadcaster jargon. “Here they are, the sole inhabitants of a newly discovered planet. The ship’s powerplant becomes the heartbeat of their brave new world….”

Lynch raised his hand for attention. “But, eventually, over time, their clothes deteriorate. And as new generations are born, there’s nothing to wear—no Wal-Mart.”

“Owww, Garden of Eden. I like it,” G.R. yelped.

Star looked at G.R. in confusion. “Garden of Eden?”

“Another Bible story.” He took a deep breath. “But let’s not be thinking about future generations; we need to worry about what’s going to happen to us when we run out of soap. Anybody think about that? We’re almost out of soap now.”

Deni groaned, then said, “At least Star will smell good. Have you all noticed the divine scent she wears? Every time she comes near, it’s a breath of fresh air.”

Star smiled in embarrassment. “Thank you, Deni, but it’s nothing I do purposely. It’s a natural occurrence in the women of Jenesis—a genetic identifier.”

“Wait a minute!” G.R. said. “Your DNA is in fragrance form? You can identify someone by scent?”

“Well, yes.”

The space doctor shook his head. “Amazing! I want to know all about it.”

“I want to know more about your culture too,” she said.

“It’s much like yours might have been a couple of generations ago,” G.R. said while munching dried vegetable bits. “Sure hope there’s lots of food on Urusa.”

Deni scoffed. “You won’t have a choice of restaurants.”

“There better be a Taco Bell. I can’t live without Taco Bell.”

“Then you’ll die, old buddy, ’cause there ain’t gonna be no Taco Bell,” Lynch stated. “But we’d best keep our animals reproducin’.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to farm and breed certain animals for food,” G.R. said.

“Won’t be much else to do,” Lynch replied with a wink.

Kaz playfully nudged G.R. “Poor G.R. There goes your conformer bed, popcorn, and plasma video wishes.”

“But soon,” Star interjected, “our present technology will become obsolete. We’ll lose all hope of communicating outside our immediate area.”

Deni picked at loose trimmings inside the cabin, “The whole ship is going to deteriorate. Future generations on Urusa will regress to primitive lifestyles.”

Lynch joined in, talking like Orson Wells with a southern drawl. “We’ll scatter across the planet in search of shelter. The common language and all native tongues will pass down to new generations. And, before you know it, there’ll be a new earth.”

G.R. groaned. “Do we have to perpetuate your southern vernacular on this new earth? Please don’t pass that down. Sometimes I can’t even understand what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t start with rules and regulations,” Lynch replied. “There’ll be enough natural restrictions to keep it challengin’.”

Bach examined a snack food ball then popped it into his mouth. “We’ll make our own tools—”

G.R. interrupted, “Maybe a few crude guns from the ship’s metal.”

Bach continued, “We’ll find something to make fire, maybe flint.”

“Flintstones!” G.R. yelled with a huge snort that got a giggle even from Kaz.

Star missed the humor. “Metal weaponry will rust and deteriorate.”

“Then we’ll make arrowheads from the scraps,” Bach countered.

“They’ll soon be used up,” she replied.

“Then we’ll go back to ones of stone.”

Deni spoke up. “I’d like it better with no guns. I vote no guns, ever.”

“Guns would be in case of attacking invaders,” G.R. said. “Remember, we’re pretending there’s no one else on our planet except us chosen ones, and we’re non-violent types.”

Bach got up with a clever look in his eyes. He hunched over, walked the floor with a hitch and smoked an imaginary cigar. “Soon the guns become weapons because someone wants more than food—they want your stuff.” He jabbed the invisible cigar at G.R. “Anything you have that they don’t.”

“And, if you’re smart,” G.R. huffed on his fingernails, “you’ve managed to store away some fine provisions.”

“Be advised, I’m going to record all of this so future generations know what to do and not to do,” Kaz said.

“Good,” Bach said. “We must document everything carefully. If we don’t make it in the long haul, we’ll have left a legacy—journals of life after Earth and the black hole that swallowed part of the universe.”

“Whoa! Hold on a minute,” G.R. yelped. “Rewind for a second. My mind’s stuck on Kaz’s comment about future generations. Think about the passengers we have in the E-module and their exquisite mix of genetics. Urusa will be a diverse melting pot.” He nodded, agreeing with himself. “And their talents range from artistic to scientific.”

Lynch scratched his thinning hair and chuckled. “Won’t it be great if we don’t age on Urusa?”

Bach wore a sly grin. “You’d be the first to benefit from that.”

“Well, just so y’all know, I don’t plan to spend the rest of my days on this ship. Me ’n’ Kaz will make our own way. We’ll keep near the ship so we can remain united with the group, but I gotta have privacy.”

“I want a baby,” Kaz said wistfully.

Deni glared at her. “Do not start on that.”

“I’m the youngest of the Earth bunch. The next generation of earthlings could start with me and Lynch.”

G.R. laughed and snorted. “Heaven forbid, a miniature Kaz.”

Deni smiled and added, “And, Kaz, think about this. G.R.’s the doctor; do you want him to deliver your baby?”

“Ahhhg!” she shrieked and crossed her legs.

Lynch dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, squirmed a little, and squinted his beady blue eyes. “Well, ah, sooner or later the winds of passion are gonna blow. We’ll be free from the group. Things will happen.”

“Well, I forbid your having a baby unless you’re married,” Deni said, hands on hips, glaring. “Just forget about those winds of passion. I’m makin’ the first rule: no marriage, no baby.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get married,” Lynch said, groaning. “But who’ll marry us?” He thought about it for a moment. “Hey, I studied for the ministry. I’ll marry myself. You know, marry me and Kaz.”

“Under the circumstances, it’s the best we can do,” Deni said.

Kaz hugged Lynch. “You just proposed!”

Bach’s emotions pinched a little, so he shut out his ex-fiancée’s romantic notions. “By the way, is anybody besides me musically inclined? We have to keep music alive. I just realized that recorded music is gone forever. All the great old rock groups, and my college friends’ band, the Ravens, will be heard from nevermore.”

G.R. yelped, “Ravens … nevermore. Good one, Bach!”

Lynch rolled his eyes and stated, “If you’re musically inclined, Bach, we’re all in trouble.”

Star spoke up. “Don’t forget, Bach, we’ll have music from the spiders, and others from Troas.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He chuckled. “How could I forget them?”

“We have musicians aboard?” Lynch asked.

“Sort of. You have to experience it firsthand. Spiders—arachnids—from planet Troas play what sounds like classical music on their webs and the planet’s animals and other critters join in. It’s a most unusual concert,” Bach said. “On the other hand, I’m gonna write down all the old songs I remember from Earth, but I’ll need help on the lyrics … never get ’em right. Then we can sing with a little help from our Troas friends,” he added with a laugh.

Lynch exaggerated a sigh. “No instruments, and off-key Bach wants to be the musical leader.”

“Straight a cappella. Unplugged!” Bach yelped. “We’ll call ourselves the Astral Plebeians.” His mouth opened with a silent laugh. “I want to keep my reputation for dubious musical talents intact. Hey, maybe we can make a flute or horn from parts of the ship, and drums.”

“Some of our talented passengers can probably make them for you,” G.R. said.

“Maybe they’ll make a guitar for me.” Lynch added.

Kaz eyes widened. “You play guitar?”

“I keep tellin’ you there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Deni said, “Well, if our theory is correct and we’re the first ones on Urusa, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other better.”

Lynch stood and stretched. “Did y’all know that there’s more than one Bible passage sayin’ that after the end of the world there will be a new heaven, and a new earth will come down from heaven, and God’s people will live there in a new Jerusalem?”

“What’s your point?” G.R. asked.

“Bach’s mission began with a divine command. Now, here we are transporting a diverse genetic mix of faithful people toward what’s believed to be a virgin planet. What if Urusa is the new earth—a fresh start at God’s potter’s wheel?”

*****

CHAPTER FORTY

Star’s calculations proved accurate and now, at day one hundred and fifty, planet Urusa loomed large before them.

Kaz and Lynch stood at the viewport, looking at the planet and its sun. She grasped his arm. “I’m scared and excited at the same time.”

He kissed her cheek. “Concentrate on the excited part.”

Bach’s terrain analysis showed an area that seemed made to order for landing—a perfect clearing with plenty of room for the ship to descend vertically. “I feel like Columbus discovering America,” he stated with an energetic smile.

Deni monitored incoming data and images on the view panel. “What an awesome experience.”

“Hope it’s awesome when we get there,” G.R. said to no one.

Star readied for landing. “Time to buckle down.”

#

At touchdown, an excited cheer rose from the crewmates. They cast off their restraints and hurried to the windows and portholes. After a guarded silence, Lynch spoke from forward, starboard. “I see an orchard over there with trees in every shape ’n’ size hangin’ heavy with yellow, orange, red, and green fruits.”

Kaz added from aft starboard, “The sky’s a clear blue canopy over a plush green carpet of grass. And in the distance are hundreds of flowering bushes in shades of pink, purple, yellow, and blue.”

From the forward port G.R. stated, “I got a hilly area with a pristine waterfall over here—”

Deni finished his sentence. “Cascading into an oasis of transparent turquoise water surrounded by pure white sand.”

Star reported from the cockpit. “Beautiful manicured land ahead with rows and rows of what look like grapevines, dipping to the ground from the weight of their bounty.”

“And I see what looks like fields of vegetables ripe for the picking at front left,” Bach added.

“Garden of Eden!” G.R. yelped.

The crewmates broke into a spontaneous dance accompanied by hugs and hoots of joy as they went from the portholes to the windows and back again.

“A dream after all the nightmares,” Kaz said, giddy with glee, “and I’m not gonna waste a minute doing anything but enjoying it.”

Deni headed to the cockpit. “I want to check on a few things.” She sat, looked out, and shouted all at the same time. “Unbelievable! Hey, everyone, a rainbow—and we’re at the end of it. Come look!”

Bach squeezed in beside Deni and draped his arm over her shoulder. The dazzling bands of color arched across the sky in a path ending right on the ship’s windshield. He looked back through the cabin; the drab ship was awash in color.

Kaz flung herself into Lynch’s arms, nearly knocking him down. “My prayers have been answered!”

Having no understanding of the excitement over the rainbow and talk of a Garden of Eden, Star slipped away to the environmental module where, since touchdown, the inhabitants had anxiously waited to learn their fate. They quickly gathered around when Star entered. “We’ve safely arrived at a biospheric planet known as Urusa,” she advised. “We’re running security checks before going out.”

After answering questions and explaining their plans thus far, she moved on to the animals’ module where the various species had adjusted to daily human interaction during the long time adrift. Her wurrs, Lotus and Arro, roaming freely among the other species, ran to her for a daily reunion filled with her loving hugs, and their head-butts and nonstop purrs. She spoke as if they understood. “I can’t wait to take you into the main cabin. But you might get spooked and escape when we open the big door, so stay put for now, and soon you’ll have a beautiful new home to explore.” She kissed her pets on their fuzzy heads. “I’ll be back soon.”

Star headed straight to the cockpit to launch a battery of tests in search of other life forms. “Someone’s caring for this beautiful planet,” she said under her breath.

In the galley area for celebration, Bach uncorked a cylinder of aquamarine sparkling water while the others readied to try the intoxicating, lemony drink. He poured a small amount into a cup and enjoyed his cohorts’ surprise at seeing crackling streams of starlike bubbles rising to the top. With all eyes on him, Bach took the first sip, then passed the cup to Lynch with a warning, “Drink just a drop. Those crackling bubbles have a highly intoxicating effect that hits almost instantly.”

Lynch ignored the warning and, like a swarthy sailor, gulped the popping water without regard. An instant later he looked around in wonder, grinning from ear to ear. “Whew! Wicked stuff. But it released my apprehension.” He handed the cup to G.R.

G.R. watched Lynch for a moment then took a couple of sips. He waited, then grumbled, “It didn’t release my apprehension,” and passed the cup to Deni.

Deni sniffed the crackling aquamarine liquid. Her eyes opened so widely that, against her black skin, they looked twice their normal size. “No thanks.” She passed it on. “I prefer to stay in control.”

Kaz swilled the last few drops, then raised the empty cup high over her head with a smirk. Grinning like the Cheshire cat, she loudly declared, “I’m ready to explore Urusa!”

Suddenly, G.R. yelped, “Woo hoo!” and threw his arm around Kaz’s shoulder.

She looked him in the eyes, put her arm around him, and giggled. “Let’s go. Grab a spacesuit. I’ll go first.” Without another word she bounded to the storage hold on feet barely touching the floor.

Lynch sat back, chuckling at her antics. “My true love wants to find a little green man for her boyfriend.”

Bach pulled her back. “Sooner or later we’ll all go out, Kaz, but now’s not the time.” He led her to Lynch and said, “Pretend he’s your little green man.”

Deni suddenly spoke out, “’All of us?’ Oh, my gosh, we forgot about the passengers. I’ll go check.”

Star stopped her. “Don’t worry, I already checked, and they’re doing great.”

A reality check hit Bach. “That’s it, guys! We were so caught up in our own joy that everyone except Star overlooked the E-module occupants. Time to regroup.” He opened the fold-down table and Deni helped position stools in their bases in the floor. “Kaz, Lynch, and G.R., sit down!” he said. Bach went to the food storage center and returned with a vacuum-sealed packet. He took out three fuzzy red berries. “Firefruits are an antidote for intoxication,” he told the happy crewmates. “Eat them now.”

Star stood by as the tipsy crewmates sucked on the cinnamony fruits. When the three had calmed down, she announced, “Good news. Research shows no problems on Urusa’s other quadrants. As soon as we store enough energy and find it safe for all to live outside, we’ll fly the E-module and explore the other areas. If the passengers eventually want to relocate to those places matching their natural habitats, we’ll organize a four-quadrant food and supply sharing co-operative.”

“I still have an uneasy feeling,” G.R. said. “I can’t help wondering about extraterrestrial life forms and thinking about what happened back on Jenesis when we opened the door.” He waved toward a porthole. “Who do you think tends those gardens and grounds?”

“Oh, no, ” Kaz whispered, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I’ve wondered the same thing,” Star said, “and don’t have an answer yet. But I’ve looked for energy sources and other life forms, and ran fuel emission detection, and found nothing.”

G.R. wiped his face with one hand. “Well, that’s good. But this planet didn’t get this perfect by itself.”

“We have a few more tests to run before going out,” Deni said. “They’ll take about an hour.”

Star added, “So far, I’ve found Earth’s research correct. Urusa rotates, and so does its sun.”

“Answer this one,” Bach said. “Are we in the same universe, or was Einstein right and there are parallel universes?”

“Oh, boy,” Lynch said, “now it’s gettin’ interesting.”

Star sighed. “I believe it’s the same universe, but I have no point of reference because the events generated by the black hole altered the structure of our view of space.”

Lynch asked, “Are there any other planets in this customized universe?”

“It appears,” Star said, “that Urusa and its sun are a zone, or solar system, of two.”

Deni added, “We saw a few stars at times while traversing space to get here. That means we’re also part of a virgin galaxy—an alpha galaxy.”

Star returned to the cockpit. “The electronic brain’s on automatic. We’ll have new download soon.”

“We have a lot to catch up on,” Deni said.

Bach, Lynch, and G.R. stayed at the fold-down table at mid ship. Kaz looked out a porthole. “Hey,” she hollered, flagging her hand at the others to get their attention. “Let’s name our little solar system. We’re in an unknown place in time, and we’ll be here forever, so we can name it anything we want.” When no one responded, she pressed harder. “If you guys don’t make an attempt, I’ll name it something really weird.”

Lynch got up and headed aft. “Lemme get a pad and pen.” He moseyed back to his crewmates, stopped in front of them, and ruffled his hair into an Einstein-like “do.” Then, to their amusement, he paced to and fro, mumbled in a monotone, and scanned the sky from a viewport. “Hmmm. Urusa, a bit of paradise with unknown dangers in a small solar system.” He rubbed his chin, tapped on the notepad, and pointed to G.R. “Name that solar system.”

G.R. raised his primitive-looking brows. “Nirvana!”

Kaz rolled her eyes. “No, more clever. Maybe Oz, from the Wizard of Oz.”

“Not Oz!” Lynch shouted out. “That might signify bad things to come.” He strode to the cockpit. “Star and Deni, you gonna play?”

“You’ll hear from us only if it gets out of hand,” Deni answered.

Bach said, “How about Genesis? This is a new beginning.”

“That’s good,” Kaz said. “Or, how about Heart? It’s an earth anagram. Or, what about Urth? We can make it an acronym for Under Rainbows There’s Hope.”

G.R. whispered, “The Twilight Zone,” in a creepy voice, to a round of laughter.

Inspiration flowed and the crewmates tossed out one suggestion after another, including Paradise, No Mosquito Land, and Tomorrowland. One-by-one the offerings ended in giggles from the dog-tired crew.

Lynch strolled back and forth a few times, then hovered over the cackling crew with a sneer. “Something funny? Want to share it with the class?”

Bach looked up at him, chuckling. “Our galaxy was called the Milky Way. Where did that come from?”

“It came from the Mars family,” Lynch said, amusing only himself.

Kaz giggled. “How about solar system Mirth?”

“Bedrock,” Bach howled.

“Proton,” G.R. yelped.

Minutes of uncontrolled hilarity left Kaz splayed across the table convulsed in laughter, G.R. snorting and holding his sides, and Bach wiping tears from his eyes.

When Lynch could no longer maintain his stern Gestapo act he sat at the table with the others and said, “On a more serious note, how about solar system Atlantis?”

G.R. frowned. “We’ll consider it, Lynch.”

“I kinda like it,” Kaz said. “Remember, Lynch said that Atlantis was like a new Eden.”

“Actually, Plato said that,” G.R. replied, “but Eden didn’t turn out so well, and that was with just two people.”

“Okay,” Lynch said, “then how about Shalom? It’s a greeting of peace and good wishes, said to others when either coming or going.”

Kaz whined a little. “Lynch … remember, Urusa also means Place of Peace. But I guess going for a double-helping of peace can’t hurt.”

“Whoa,” Bach suddenly said. “Say Urusa and Shalom together fast and it sounds like Jerusalem: UrusaShalom.”

Lynch repeated, “UrusaShalom … UrusaShalom … Jerusalem.”

Deni looked back from the cockpit and actually broke a smile. She whispered to Star, “I think Kaz’s youth is good for Lynch. He would never have joined in anything frivolous in the past. It’s interesting to watch.”

Star smiled and nodded.

The Arkmates wore themselves out with ideas before whittling their top-ten list to two. One was Lynch’s suggestion of Atlantis; the other Kaz’s offering of Urth.

Bach wrote both names on slips of paper and approached the cockpit with a ballot gripped in each hand. He looked back and forth between Star and Deni, extended both closed fists and asked, “Who’ll do the honors?”

Deni shook her head and pointed to Star. “She will.”

Star chose the right hand and dragged out the anticipation by taking a peek, then refolding the note before handing it back.

Bach unfolded it, cleared his throat, and spoke as if heralding royalty. “In this infinite universe, in our alpha galaxy, on day one, year zero, herewith it is decreed that we christen our solar system, the foundation of our new civilization, Atlantis.”

A cheer went up and somebody yelled, “Hail, Atlantis!”

G.R. leaned back on his stool and pouted. “I still like Nirvana best.”

Kaz sighed. “Give it up, G.R., Nirvana didn’t even make the top ten.”

“Okay, you all,” he goaded. “Who’ll be first to walk au naturel onto peaceful planet Urusa?”

Kaz let out a yelp. “Au naturel, are you nuts?”

“It’s just an expression meaning no suits. I didn’t mean nude.”

“Hey, quiet!” Bach’s fun turned serious. “The Ark’s testing devices were built for Balal’s zone, so it’s possible they won’t detect, interpret, or display foreign matter here. Before we try to breathe the air on our own, we should send out a bird like Noah did.”

Lynch thought about it. “Sounds like a safe bet. We’ve plenty of birds. Sorta like when the coal miners back home used to take a caged canary into the coal mine and if the bird died, they knew there was poisonous gas in the shaft and they got out.”

Kaz winced. “Ohhh, how cruel.”

“We’re sendin’ the bird,” Lynch drawled. “I’ll go get one.”

Not wanting to hear more, Kaz held her ears and headed aft. “I won’t be a part of this.” She entered the passageway to the E-module.

Lynch placed a white dove into a narrow decompression tube leading to outside, then sealed the inner flap and released the outer flap. The innocent bird pigeon-walked through the pipe, hesitated at the end, eyed the outdoor area, then spread its wings in flight.

“Godspeed,” Bach whispered, watching as the bird ascended into the clear blue sky.

The crew moved from the portholes to the observation windows and back again, trying to keep an eye on the dove as it flew higher and higher. But they soon lost sight of it. After waiting, and waiting for its return, G.R. said, “Something’s wrong.”

“It was a good sign for Noah when his dove didn’t come back,” Lynch said.

“But he wasn’t worried about hazardous conditions,” G.R. retorted, backing away from the porthole. “Good thing we didn’t go out.”

“You don’t know that anything’s wrong,” Deni scolded. “Poor bird’s been cooped up too long. He’s out scouting for a mate in paradise.”

As time passed with no sighting of the dove, one by one the crewmates stepped away from the windows. Star moved to the cockpit and the others waited for results of her tests.

When Kaz came back from the E-module and learned the bird had not returned, tears flowed.

#

The chosen one-hour wait before going out had passed, and Deni was the only one who believed the dove was still alive. She continued to look out from time to time, but wasn’t watching when the bird landed outside the cockpit window.

Star happened to look up and saw the bird with a vine-like twig in its beak as if carrying it to build a nest. The twig looked like the symbol. She excitedly yelled to the others, “He’s back! The dove is back!”

G.R. rushed to the cockpit and put his face so close to the window the dove flew away. It circled and returned. “He’s telling us something,” he said.

“We’re home!” Bach answered.

Without a word, Star lowered the ramp. Beyond the three-piece ship’s confines awaited a lush paradise bathed in the colors of a rainbow.

Lynch stepped forward. “Let’s pray before we go out there.” The others gathered together and all held hands as he prayed. “Heavenly Father, Almighty Creator of the universe and giver of all good things. Thank you for a new beginning and the hope it brings. As we long for eternity with you, we surrender now to your will and seek divine guidance for our future in the shelter of your wings. Amen.”

The crewmates spoke in unison, “Amen.”

#

The six Arkmates stepped onto Urusa.

Deni sank to the ground and ran her hand across the plush, shamrock green grass. “This … is paradise.”

Lynch’s deep breath filled him from head to toe.

G.R. flexed his muscular arms. “Totally pure, the air’s incredible—like I’m not even breathing. Wonder how an aerobic workout would feel here.”

Bach laughed and took a deep breath. “You’ll get plenty of exercise maintaining daily life; you won’t need aerobics.”

Star headed straight to the oasis and peered into the water. “A miracle,” she whispered at seeing her image in the still, clear pond.

Kaz roamed the area, touching and smelling everything in her path with childlike excitement. She headed to the front of the ship and walked among rows of leafy grapevines loaded with foot-long clusters of purple, pink, and green grapes. The tangy, sweet-sour fragrance made her mouth water, and before she knew it she’d pulled a bunch of purple grapes from a vine and popped one into her mouth. The tart ruby liquid burst over her tongue, sending a jolt of pleasure through every taste bud. “Yummm. This is how grapes are supposed to taste,” she joyously announced to no one as she rushed back to the others with the cluster in hand. “Hey, try these. Delicious!”

Deni snatched the grapes from Kaz’s hand. “Stop it, Kaz, maybe we shouldn’t eat them.”

“Why? It’s not an apple. No apple, no snake.”

All the positive energy died and no one spoke.

*****

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

A massive shadow moved across the ground from high overhead. Bach, Star, Lynch, Deni, Kaz, and G.R. raced to each other as if drawn by a magnet and stared at the sky. A spacecraft resembling a cruise ship descended toward Urusa without sound or sensation. The white craft’s three-tiered body had a smaller module on top of two large bottom layers. There were no lights or insignias.

Bach yelled, “Take cover,” and the crewmates ran for the Ark. They were almost there when the big ramp flew upward and closed unaided.

“Oh, my God!” Kaz cried out.

Scrambling around, the six looked for a place to hide, but wound up cowering together on the ground alongside the ship, men shielding the women.

The incoming craft hovered overhead, then a column of blue light with two intersecting lines, like crosshairs in a rifle’s scope, beamed from its underbelly and held a bead on the crewmates. In a soundless vertical descent, the ship set down a hundred yards behind the Ark.

The crewmates fought to contain their fear, but Kaz’s body shook and she cried out, “No! No more bad stuff to endure!”

Bach stared at the spacecraft, then suddenly, with a total loss of reason, giggled like something had struck him outlandishly funny. His body went slack and he started to sing. “A magical mystery ship has come to take us away.”

Lynch clamped his hand over Bach’s mouth from behind. “Not now, Bach.”

A panel slid open in the huge ship’s lower level. As a stairway unfolded, a blinding silver light streamed from the arched doorway. It was hard to see between the bright light and the distance, but a creature of some kind moved forward, then stood motionless at the door frame as if sizing up the situation. Then it slowly descended the stairs. Now the crewmates could tell that it had the form of a man—a tall one.

Kaz whispered, “God, help us!”

The man’s long legs carried him forward swiftly. He stopped about fifty feet away. He wore a white, unadorned spacesuit, and was without a helmet or utility belt.

The six pressed together. Then Star suddenly stepped forward and yelled out to the man. “Are you also a traveler, or have we invaded your home? Please forgive us if that’s the case. We had nowhere else to go.”

The man walked closer. Now the Arkmates could tell he was an elderly man with white hair. At fifteen-feet away the color of his eyes became visible—steely blue, like a Siberian Husky’s.

“I’m Elhannon.” His voice was deep. “And I know who you are.”

“You know us?” Lynch asked.

He nodded. Then he pointed at Bach. “Come with me to my ship.”

A nervous cough preceded Bach’s fake grin. “How about we go into my ship?”

“You’ve been too long in yours.”

Bach looked at his crewmates. “What about the others?”

“Just you for now,” Elhannon said.

Bach stepped forward, but hesitated.

Elhannon waited.

Bach tried to appear relaxed, but as he strode to the man’s side he felt like his feet weren’t moving.

Elhannon put his arm around Bach’s shoulders and led him toward his ship. Neither of them spoke as they walked. At the door of the huge craft, Bach snuck one last look back at his crewmates as he mounted the steps and disappeared inside with Elhannon.

Lynch stepped back from his crewmates. “Quick, we gotta find a way to get the Ark’s ramp open.” He looked up at the spacecraft. “If any E-module occupants are looking out from up there, maybe we can signal them to go to the cockpit and open the lever.”

Kaz shielded her eyes from the sun and backed up, looking toward the viewports in the E-module. She waved, but no return came from the windows. She closed her eyes and put her fingertips on both temples. “I’ll try to send Ivy and Obbo a mental message. They were in the cockpit a couple of times asking about all the instrumentation.”

The ramp opened.

Star, Kaz, Deni, Lynch, and G.R. rushed inside, and Star hurriedly closed the ramp. When she checked the passageway door, it had not been opened, and Ivy and Obbo were nowhere in sight. The ramp had opened by unknown means.

*****

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The crew kept watch over Elhannon’s huge ship from the Ark, wondering what fate had befallen Bach and if he would return.

Lynch looked at his watch. An hour had passed. He jumped up and punched the wall then strode back and forth. “Damn! I shoulda stepped in—demanded more information from Elhannon before lettin’ Bach go off with him to that alien ship.”

Kaz grabbed Lynch’s arm and whispered. “What if they don’t let him come back, or if they’re doing awful tests on him?”

He shook his head, grunted, and punched the wall again.

Star moved to the cockpit. “I don’t feel he’ll be harmed.”

Deni nodded, still looking out. “Same here. I’m more intrigued than frightened by all of this.”

Star scanned Elhannon’s ship for communications signals, and activated voice enhancement equipment to try to pick up conversations from the unusual craft. “Their technology is unidentifiable,” she announced. “Comm systems don’t register at all on our tracking devices.”

Kaz peered from every viewport on the way to aft ship, then headed through the passageway to the E-module. Minutes later, she returned with Obbo and Ivy. “Sit here, please.” She showed them the stools by the table. “Look in your crystal ball and tell me what you see surrounding the strange ship outside.”

Ivy tried several times to look into the crystal ball, but nothing worked. Obbo polished it then waved his arms over it several times, but his efforts were also to no avail.

Kaz crouched beside them. “Try it without the crystal ball. Can you communicate with anyone or pick up anything?”

The little couple faced each other, held hands, and entered what seemed a trance-like state while the others gathered around. After minutes with no reaction, the couple’s tension spread to the crewmates, whose impatience manifest in deep breaths and shifting eyes. Soon, Ivy scowled and shook her head. Then Obbo shook his head.

Kaz tapped on Ivy’s shoulder. “What?”

“Can’t see,” said the little lady.

Obbo opened his eyes. “Something here has stopped our foresight.”

Ivy shook her head again. “Can’t see or hear.”

“Okay,” Kaz said. “Maybe you’ll come up with something when you get back to the E-module. You’ll have to go back there for now until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Lynch pressed his face to an aft porthole. “Bach was clearly in stress shock; not mentally fit. I shouldn’t have let him go alone.” He looked at Star with single-minded determination. “Open the ramp.”

Star clamped her hand over the controller to override security. Weighing the risks, she prayed for divine guidance. A light flashed on the control panel. At the same time, the ship’s security systems deactivated and the ramp opened.

Lynch headed outside ready to rescue Bach, only to see him approaching with Elhannon. Dozens of children of all ages, races, and genetic variances followed the two men.

Bach waved across the distance to his stunned crewmates now waiting at the bottom of the ramp. Nearing the Ark with Elhannon, he pointed to the children and yelled ahead, “The children were rescued from the planets.”

Elhannon turned around and signaled the children to stop, then continued on with Bach.

Bach yelled again as he walked. “Our passengers are parents and relatives of all of these children.” Face beaming, he reached the Ark with Elhannon and excitedly shared more good news. “Elhannon’s commissioned us to raise and nurture them.”

Star stepped forward and stared into Elhannon’s ice-blue eyes. “You’re entrusting us with the care of all of these children?”

“Yes.” He motioned the children forward.

Now the nine couples from the E-module showed up in the doorway and hurried down the ramp with shouts of joy.

Newlyweds Urich and Rain were first into the crowd and found their twin nieces and nephews and other twins from planet En Gedi, including the twin boys and girls who helped Bach and Star.

Ivy and Obbo instinctively knew where to find their two pint-sized daughters in the group. The love between parents and children flowed without words, and the little couple embraced their children and a dozen other little ones dancing around alongside them.

Betrothed couple Yin and Yang searched for missing family members and soon located numerous young relatives and their friends.

The long-lost children from Violet and Noble’s planet were in the arms of taller children.

Maya and Jett found the children from their planet, including the two young brothers who gave Bach and Star the berries. The brothers were the last children rescued by Elhannon.

Wick and Cyrus’s three boys and a group of others rushed forward, their white hair flying back from their faces and their pink eyes filled with joy.

Freeman and Hope’s three children ran to them. They wrestled each other to the ground, hugging and crying with joy.

Although they had no children of their own, Zerah and Tobit teamed up with Xian and Ptero to reconnect with dozens of children from their two planets.

Caught up in the energy, G.R. grabbed Deni and hugged her as if she were his long-lost sister.

Lynch wrapped his arms around Kaz, holding her so close they appeared as one.

Without thinking, Bach took Star in his arms, lifted her from the ground and swung her around, inhaling her enchanting fragrance with delight.

Elhannon stood aside, smiling.

*****

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

While families and friends reunited, Elhannon gathered the six crewmates together for a meeting inside the Ark.

Bach couldn’t wait to tell the others what he’d learned when first taken aboard Elhannon’s ship, and started talking before they sat at the table. “Urusa was formed by the Creator with our mission in mind. Elhannon and his assistants systematically rescued the children from each of the planets by divine commission. He kept them here on Urusa, safe aboard his craft, while they awaited our arrival with the chosen ones—their families and friends. The children, and Elhannon’s assistants, cared for the gardens.”

Star blurted out, “The children are Urusa’s caretakers?” If Elhannon replied, she didn’t hear. She fired off another question. “How did you come and go on all the planets without detection?”

He seemed to smile. “The top portion of my craft flies undetected.”

Star spoke to herself, “’Flies undetected?’”

Deni shifted her eyes back and forth from her crewmates to Elhannon, watching his reaction to their questions, hoping to learn where he’d come from in a universe with no other planets.

Lynch cleared his throat and leaned across the table to speak with the stranger face to face. “Elhannon. Now if you’re leavin’ these kids here with us and all our passengers, we’re gonna be short of shelter—sleepin’ quarters.”

“My ship has adequate provisions.”

“It’s like a small city in there,” Bach said.

Lynch nodded, then locked Elhannon in his stare. “So you’ll be staying with us too?”

“No. But the two bottom layers of my craft will remain.”

Bach spoke up. “I told you it’s like a city in there. A city with a hotel big enough for all of us. There are kitchens, workshops, laboratories, and recreation areas.”

G.R. tapped Elhannon’s shoulder. “Where will you go when you leave?”

Deni interjected, “And where did you come from?”

“Let’s just say I’ll be going home.” Elhannon’s manner of reply left no room for further questions.

*****

When darkness fell, Elhannon took Star to his spacecraft’s top level and closed the door. The small area resembled a comfortable apartment with separate rooms, curved walls, and soft furniture. In the pastel blue and white surroundings, nothing resembled a cockpit. There were no instruments, gauges, headphones, or computers. A comfortable chair with controls on the armrests overlooked a viewing window.

Elhannon placed his hands on Star’s shoulders. His pale blue eyes stared at hers for a halting time before he spoke. “Star…,” his voice was a whisper, “I’m your uncle.”

Goosebumps covered her body. She stared back. “I don’t understand.”

“Altemus is my brother,” he said with a rush of breath.

“My father has a brother?”

Elhannon put his lips to her forehead with a kiss she barely felt. “I never made it all the way to birth.” He looked from loving eyes.

"But, you’re a man … an adult….”

“For those where I live, age is an ongoing choice.”

“You can change your age?”

“Yes.”

Star acted on an overpowering urge to hug him, and it was as if a protective force instantly enveloped her. She nestled her face against his chest and softly asked, “You’re the Creator’s intermediary?”

“I, and others.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.

They embraced for a time, neither willing to break the connection. Then Star stepped back to wipe away tears.

Elhannon took her hand in his, smiling. “Now go to your new family. I’ll depart tonight as you sleep.”

Their soft blue eyes held the connection, neither wanting to look away. When the energy waned from Elhannon’s grasp, Star stepped back, letting her hand slide along his to treasure the last of his touch.

*****

The next morning, after awakening inside Elhannon’s city-like ship, the crewmates rushed outside, wondering if he’d departed undetected. The smaller craft was gone.

Kaz whispered, “He’s out there somewhere.”

Star nodded and glanced skyward, smiling.

“I hardly knew him, but I’ll miss him,” Deni said.

“We’re caretakers of a new earth,” G.R. added.

“In the new Jerusalem,” Lynch replied.

Bach moved to Star’s side and took her hand in his. His other hand moved to the chain around his neck. He touched the tree of life and circle of light pendants and looked into Star’s eyes. “Hope for eternity.”

--END--

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I would be honored if you would post a favorable review.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

I was born in northern Ohio, but have lived most of my life in Florida; Miami being my childhood home, and now living near Cape Canaveral, where shuttle launches visible from my front yard set the stage for Alpha Rising.

Writing has always been part of my life, and I knew one day all my notes and musings regarding deep space, and what lies beyond, would form the foundation for this exciting, entertaining, and provocative space-travel novel.

My hope for the future is that many medical conditions will be successfully treated and cured in space station laboratories.

Enjoy the journey.

G.L. Douglas

Please visit my website: http://www.alpharising.net

#

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE