The Aurora City

  Markman sat next to Cassiopia smiling a victorious smile. John Paul pulled out a chair to join them. Markman could not restrain his jubilation. “So, they were there. We’ve found a point of entry.”

  John Paul nodded. “Yes, Scott. It is finally a breakthrough although it presents more questions than t does answers. But, I must ask you to forgive me. Something has happened. I need to switch subjects. Cassiopia, you must forgive me, also. I did not think it wise to mention this while Scott was still in the suit, but your father has been found and rescued.”

  Cassiopia stood. “He’s been rescued? Where is he? Is he alright?”

  “He is under the protection of our group. There are a few details. Please, you should sit.”

  Cassiopia sank slowly back in her seat with one hand against her mouth and a distrusting look. “Tell me.”

  “He was being held prisoner at the Greenbrier resort in West Virginia in one of our hidden underground bunkers there. It is a facility normally kept on standby. You may have heard of the Greenbrier facility. It is much more expansive than anyone knows. Yesterday, your father emerged briefly into the sunlight and was immediately picked up by our surveillance. Last night and this morning a rescue plan was put into effect and was successful. We have moved him to room 212 at the Greenbrier. He is under constant surveillance by our people posing as hotel employees. He is resting comfortably awaiting your arrival.”

  Markman spoke one word. “Who did it?”

  “Three individuals we have been pursuing for a very long time. It is as we suspected. They needed your father to complete work on some inter-dimensional physics. We were able to apprehend one of the three. The others were not present and are still at large.”

  Cassiopia stood again. “Let’s go.”

  John Paul spoke patiently. “Cassiopia, you should sit. There’s more.”

  Cassiopia sat back down, giving John Paul a fearful sideward glance.

  “We have a limousine and driver upstairs waiting for the two of you. It will be available for as long as you need it. Obviously, we would not bring your father here. He has not been indoctrinated, but there is something else that would preclude that anyway. Cassiopia, your father made an escape attempt from his abductors at some point and was recaptured. That brief escape was what gave us the break we needed. The attempt required quite a bit of physical exertion. Add to that the stress of the situation he was under and obviously it all took a toll on him. He needs to be taken directly to Virginia Commonwealth University Medical Center in Richmond. Bypass surgery is needed immediately. We have arranged for all of that. It will be more than one procedure. He is not in any danger right now, but that surgery cannot be put off any longer. I suspect he knew about this all along and kept it from you.”

  Cassiopia choked back fear.

  “As I’ve said, he’s in no danger, but now is the time, not later. You may need to help convince him.”

  Cassiopia looked at John Paul with annoyance. “John Paul, you could cure him right here without surgery, couldn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Cassiopia, your father is still a member of society. He has not joined us, yet. It would be very awkward to have a mysterious cure added to his medical records, but that’s not the real reason we cannot treat him.”

  “Then what?”

  “You would have us do this. Next, let us imagine your friend Brenda in Florida suddenly needs life-saving treatment that only we can provide. You’d have us do that as well, would you not?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then another close friend, Ann Rogers becomes injured in the line of duty. She will not make it unless we intervene. You’d want us to help her, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “But we can’t help everyone out there, can we?”

  “No. There are too many.”

  “So at that point, you become the person who decides who will live and who will die. You decide who gets the special treatment and who does not.”

  “But….”

  “You must consider this. You would also be deciding how long certain people live. You would be in control of their life span. These decisions are relegated to others much higher than you or me. We are not fit to decide such things.”

  “But if he joined the organization, you’d be able to help him?”

  “Yes, with approval from higher authorities. That would come after he was no longer a member of society. His life will have taken a new path. There is one thing I can tell you that will help, however. Your father’s procedures will be successful without incident, and he will make a full recovery and be in better health than he was before. I can promise you that. You might consider scolding him for keeping his condition from you, though.”

  Cassiopia considered John Paul’s words. She decided to trust him once again. “You can be sure there will be a scolding. Can we go?”

  John Paul raised his hand. “One more thing. Please give me both of your cell phones.”

  With inquisitive stares, Cassiopia and Markman slid their phones across the table. John Paul reached into his pocket and drew out two new phones. He slid them back.

  “These are special. Instructions are contained within. Please read through them as soon as you get time. The limo ride might be a good time perhaps. These phones have special attributes. You will never be cut off. You will always have service. They cannot be damaged. Once you have spoken to someone on your phone, the phone stores the other person’s voice and you can use it to make calls. There are too many features to name. Please, each of you, turn yours on now.”

  Cassiopia and Markman looked down at their newest toys and switched them on.

  John Paul said, “Scott let me have yours back. I’ll show you something else. In fact, I love this part.” John Paul took Markman’s new phone, went to a nearby planter and dropped it in the foliage. “Let’s leave that for now and go up and check on your ride.”

  Markman mumbled, “Great, now I don’t have a phone at all!”

  The ride in the elevator became quiet. Cassiopia fidgeted impatiently. John Paul eyed Markman. “Scott, Cassiopia will need to remain with her father. If you find a point where you feel you can break away, we need to continue the Salantian work. Now that you’ve found at least some evidence, the mystery has only deepened. At least, we have a real starting point. I still have a bad feeling about this situation.”

  Markman looked over at Cassiopia. “I’ll stand by you as long as you need me.”

  Cassiopia nodded. “John Paul is right. For some reason, I am worried about the invasion, also.”

  Outside, a large black limo waited. John Paul opened a back door. “This vehicle will provide you with anything you need. You will want to spend the night at the Greenbrier and transfer your father in the morning after he has had time to rest. We’ll be here working on the data collected so far, and will await your return, Scott.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  “Oh Scott, may I borrow your cell phone for a minute?”

  Markman laughed. “You’ve been working too hard, John Paul. You dumped it in the planter downstairs.”

  “Did I really?”

  Markman slapped at the pocket of his jeans. There was a rectangular lump. He reached in and drew out the same phone John Paul had left downstairs. “How…?”

  John Paul laughed longer than usual. “You cannot lose your phones. When you first turned them on, they isolated you and bonded with you. No matter where they are, they will locate you and return. It’s my favorite joke. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

  Markman stared down in disbelief at the phone in his hand as he climbed in next to Cassiopia. John Paul continued to laugh and shut the door.

  The reunion between Cassiopia and her father was so emotional it embarrassed Markman. He stood in one corner of the hotel room with his hands in his pockets trying to pretend he was not paying attention. W
hen Cassiopia finally began wiping away the tears, and her father released her from his arms, the pair turned to acknowledge him. He simply nodded and smiled.

  An adjoining room had been reserved, although Cassiopia fell asleep in a chair in her father’s room worrying about his upcoming surgery. Markman lay in bed alone for hours trying to piece together the strange story of Salantians on Crillia. The rusted over vortport he had found was glaring proof of the catastrophic invasion. Why had no other evidence been found? The mystery needled him. More exploration was needed.

  The Professor’s limo ride to Richmond arrived late in the afternoon the following day. To everyone’s surprise, a surgical team was there, prep’d and ready. The Professor began his final objections and was pushed away in a wheelchair midway through them.

  As John Paul had promised, the procedure went flawlessly. There would be a second operation in two days. Cassiopia pampered her father relentlessly, leaving Markman to wander around Richmond still lost in thought. The telltale Salantian vortport locked away in a forgotten tunnel deep beneath the oldest building in Aurora was a mind-twister he could not put aside. On the morning of the second day, impatient to get back to Culpeper, he found himself sitting in a small diner a block from the hospital. The local classified’s flyer was no match for the riddle plaguing him. He slowly turned his coffee cup in a circle, watching concentric rings in the coffee radiate outward forming designs and images in his mind. A waitress interrupted with a refill. She smiled invitingly, then stepped away to the next table.

  The old-fashioned glass sugar dispenser in his booth was empty. He turned to ask the server for another, but she was already gone. No one was sitting at the small round table next to him. That sugar dispenser was full. No harm in borrowing it. As he leaned out from the booth and reached for the dispenser, something on the Thrifty Nickel caught his eye. A small column near the bottom of the front page declared, “Blue Moon on Tuesday.” Markman brought in the sugar dispenser from the adjacent table and poured sugar into his spoon, still reading the article. A sudden realization caused him to take pause.

  He stopped pouring and stared at the dispenser. It had been on the opposite side of the neighboring table, well out of reach. He had intended to stand to retrieve it. How had he grabbed it without even looking away from the advertising flyer?

  It must have been a brain glitch. Maybe someone had put it in his hand while he was distracted. He looked around. There was no one nearby. The other patrons were entirely focused on their own business. Perhaps he stood partially and grabbed the thing without realizing it. He finished adding sugar to his coffee, stood and placed the dispenser back on its rightful table. He tried to return his attention to the blue moon article, but could not. The borrowed sugar dispenser sat tasking him.

  Finally, he could stand it no longer. He checked around to be sure no one was watching, then leaned over and held out his open hand on the edge of the adjacent table. He focused on the sugar dispenser, a good two feet beyond his reach.

  For a moment there was nothing. Then, a sudden jerk by the dispenser startled him. He held his place and watched the dispenser ever so slowly begin to slide. It picked up speed as it went and crossed the table, coming to rest in his open hand. He quickly withdrew into his booth and stared at the heavy glass container in disbelief. He looked around again to be sure no one had noticed. He placed it on his table and stared in bewilderment. Perhaps the other table was on an incline or had a bad support. He could have tilted it without realizing it. A quick grab of the table edge proved it was solid.

  Markman pushed the sugar dispenser away. He looked around once more for privacy, then held his hand open on the table top, concentrating again on the sugar dispenser. Once again, the dispenser obediently slid across the table and into his hand.

  Markman sat back, his heart racing. What was happening here? Was he still in a sensesuit and didn’t realize it? He touched his face. No helmet. His stomach was full from eating real world food. He looked at his chest. No gold triangle. He was wearing jeans and athletic shoes and his Jets T-shirt. This was the real world.

  How could this be? Had he really just moved a real world object with his mind? He thought back to the Coffer of Dreams. The placard on the gate to the garden. ‘Such radiant treasure win, to die is to have sinned.' That was all supposed to be within the make-believe world of the sensesuit, wasn’t it? But, he had been debating all along with John Paul whether or not Crillia was a real place and not just a simulation. Now a power bestowed on him within the computer world of Crillia seemed to be just as applicable to the outside world.

  This had to be a delusion. Markman focused on the sugar dispenser again. Keeping his hand low near the table top, he pointed at it with one finger and concentrated. Slowly the dispenser rose an inch off the table and hung there, suspended. Markman flinched at the sight of it. The dispenser tipped and fell sideways to the table, rolling over the edge, crashing to the floor. Markman lunged too late to grab it. The thick glass did not break but rolled along the tile floor leaving a tiny trail of sugar. Other patrons stopped what they were doing and stared. A server near the front counter hurried around and stooped down to help Markman recover.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Markman. “I slipped.”

  “It’s okay. All in a day,” said the woman, and she wiped up the trail of sugar as Markman sat back down with the dispenser.

  “It’s my fault,” she added. “I see yours is empty. I should have noticed. I’ll bring another in just a minute.”

  Markman sat back, his heart again racing. This was no delusion. It was clear he had acquired some sort of thought control over physical objects. What did this mean? How much power did he possess? He had suspended a giant statue of a horse in the Aurora City. Did he have that much power here? What else had the beam from the Coffer of Dreams done to him? Could there be ill effects from it? John Paul had done those scans to be sure everything was alright. They had found nothing. But, they hadn’t seen this power, either. John Paul might know what all this meant. That was probably the next best step, call John Paul and tell him about this.

  Markman reached down for his phone but stopped abruptly. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. The problem with secrets was that once you gave them away, you could never get them back. What would they do once they knew about this power? Would there be experiments? Medical tests? Would they restrict his freedom? Markman quickly decided he would not be telling anyone, even Cassiopia. If she knew, it might change how she viewed him. She might see him as a different person. That would be the worst of all. It was his secret now, and he needed to guard it. There was a lot more to learn before making any decisions. Maybe somehow he could figure out what was happening and why.

  He pulled an appropriate amount of cash from his back pocket and dropped it on the table. He stood and walked out of the eatery, still dazed by what was happening. Outside, it was a beautiful Richmond day. The sidewalk was red stamped concrete, bordering a white paved main road. Cars seemed to be traveling along casually; others waited by the curb. He turned and walked along the windowed brick wall of the restaurant, asking himself if life felt the same or had somehow changed. Thoughts of the newly discovered power kept overtaking his mind.

  Ahead, a beautiful three-story white building with tall columns partially adjoined the restaurant. There was a narrow alley between the two. Halfway down the alley, an empty tin garbage can lay on its side on black asphalt. Doubt began to persuade him. What if he had dreamed everything that happened in the restaurant? Maybe he had nodded off without realizing it and was awakened by the sugar dispenser falling off the table? Markman looked around to be sure the coast was clear. He held out one hand, palm-up, and concentrated on the can. Immediately, it began to shake and rattle and finally tipped itself back upright, a stark confirmation that he was not imagining these things.

  Further down the sidewalk, in front of a courthouse building, a cat was perched amid the white apple blossoms on the limb of a beautiful roadside tree. It
was meowing for help. Markman paused. Everything else he had experimented on had been inanimate objects. This was a living creature. There was no way he would test his power here. There were decorative bricks around the base of the tree. He stepped up on one and held out his hand to the cat. It hesitated, then jumped onto his shoulder and down to the ground. It ran off down the alley, no thanks given.

  Markman made his way back to the hospital and took the elevator up. A man in a dark, English-styled suit using an umbrella as a cane, read a magazine on the way. Cassiopia was waiting in the OR receiving area in a white shift, fidgeting with her new cell phone. She looked up and smiled as he entered. She stood and embraced him. Markman kissed her before she had time to speak.

  “He went in for the second procedure a half hour ago. He seemed fine about it.”

  “How about you?”

  “Okay, I think. I start worrying about things that could go wrong; then I remember John Paul’s promise that everything will be okay, then I realize I trust John Paul, then I start worrying about trusting John Paul.”

  “Wow, a vicious circle.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Do I need to run down and get you anything?”

  “No. There’s plenty of machines around the corner. Don’t want anything anyway.”

  “How long will this one take?”

  “They said a couple hours. Maybe less.”

  “You sure I can’t go get you something?”

  “You need to be getting back to Culpeper.”

  “That’s important, but there’s nothing more important than you.”

  Cassiopia smiled. “Just stay here with me until he comes out and we know he’s okay. Then I’ll stay, and you can go solve the mystery of the caves of Aurora.”

  “They took the limo back and left me Core. So, I’ve got a ride, but I’m not real comfortable about leaving you.”

  “They want my father here for several days of observation. Then new plans will need to be made.”

  “I wonder how safe it really is here.”

  “John Paul has sent me half a dozen texts. He says my father is under heavy guard here even though we don’t see it. He will fill me in later. The cell phone is crazy. Somehow it knows when you’ve finished reading a John Paul text and it deletes it immediately.”

  “Yeah, at the restaurant, every time the waitress approached my table it vibrated a warning.”

  “Scott, what do you think will happen to us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How can we return home? As John Paul has said, my father seems to have become too important to the wrong kind of people, and even I could be used to influence him. What have we gotten ourselves into? Have we become so immersed in John Paul’s world that we can never go back? Has he tricked us into this? Where can we go when we leave the hospital? What has happened to the lives we used to lead?”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not worried at all.”

  “How can you not be worried?”

  “I have a slight advantage over you in all of this.”

  “What?”

  “The only thing important to me is to be with you. Nothing else matters much.”

  Cassiopia looked at Markman with an expression he had never seen. It was like looking the best friend he ever had squarely in the eye. There was as much feeling stirring within those deep eyes as if she was speaking out loud. Cassiopia gave a tiny smile. “Still, it’s scary not knowing the plan.”

  “But wasn’t it you who once told me our plan would be not to have a plan?”

  “Did I say that? I did, didn’t I.”

  “And you know my attitude about these things.”

  “Remind me.”

  “We only think we control our lives and our destinies. It’s the biggest fallacy of all.”

  “I may be starting to believe you, Socrates.”

  “I still don’t know the man, but I’m sure he’s not a relative.”

  Cassiopia laughed out loud. She smiled with a twinkle in her eye and suddenly felt as though there was a chance things could be alright.

  They took seats and passed the time stealing amorous glances at each other, pretending to be occupied by other things. Cassiopia tried to study. Markman made a nuisance of himself walking the halls past the nursing station too often. Mercifully, the Professor’s surgery went faster than expected. When the surgeon finally appeared in the waiting room, he was smiling and shaking his head.

  “Your father tends to take charge,” he said. “Even under the influence of strong sedatives.”

  “Can I see him?” asked Cassiopia, ignoring the doctor’s attempt at humor.

  “They’re just cleaning him up. As soon as they’re done, you can follow him back to the room. He should be back asleep by then, hopefully….”

  “And it went well?”

  “Perfectly. Just as expected. The biggest problem now I suspect will be keeping him in bed.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” said Cassiopia.

  Markman nodded. “She will, too.”

  The doctor smiled in doubt. He turned and left.

  “You should go,” said Cassiopia.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Just send me a text every few minutes. Otherwise I’ll be nervous about you, too.”

  “I could stay longer….”

  “The invasion thing is just as dangerous as everything else. I’ll watch over my father and keep studying the system. You guys can update me on what you find. We need to keep at it.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed.” Markman moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. He looked down and wiped away a smudge of lipstick at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not crazy about leaving you two here, even though Culpeper is only about an hour away.”

  “You know John Paul’s group is watching over us like hawks, even though we don’t see any of them.”

  “Yes. I’ll be watching, too. There’s a tracking function on the new cell phones. It shows me your position every second. I’ll have it on all the time.”

  “And, John Paul certainly arrived fast when I called for him after the accident.”

  “Yeah, another John Paul magic trick. Lucky the man’s on our side.”

  Markman leaned over and kissed Cassiopia and hugged her tightly. As they pulled apart, he whispered, “I love you.”

  Cassiopia smiled. “I love you.”

  Hip to hip, they walked out of the waiting room and down the hall to the locked security doors that led to Recovery. After another extended hug, Markman backed away a few steps, waved and turned away. The elevator waited at the end of the hall. He began to have more doubts about going but the logic of it was too compelling. Halfway down the hall, a nurse had parked her service cart and gone into a room to take blood samples. The cart was messy. A rack of test tube holders sat atop it, most filled with samples.

  A noise at the elevators distracted Markman. A man in a gray-stripped suit emerged in a panic as the doors opened. His long dark hair was a mess. He pushed his way through people with an expression of worry. He trotted haphazardly down the hall weaving through visitors and orderlies. As he passed the cart, he brushed by it. A stack of sealed test tubes teetered and tipped toward the edge. They bounced on the corner of the cart and went over the side.

  Instinctively, Markman stopped and raised one hand, intending to freeze the falling glass test tubes in midair. Just as quickly, he withdrew and watched the test tubes crash to the floor, exploding and scattering everywhere in a terrible red-glass fragment mess.

  The nurse who owned the offended cart came rushing out, making unintelligible, sordid comments. Everyone else paused to silently appraise the damage then went back to what they had been doing. Markman excused himself around the nurse and her mess as she struggled to recover what she could.

  But, the incident perplexed him. He had instinctively reacted to use his new found power to save the test tubes. It seemed this new power had already become a reflexive part of him. Had he used i
t, all those people would have seen something unexplainable. It would have attracted a great deal of attention. He would need to be more careful. The consequences of someone finding out about this power were too troubling to risk.

  At the hotel, Markman gathered up his pack and headed for the parking garage. On the third floor, he found Core with its engine already running. As he approached, the driver’s door popped open. He laughed out loud getting in. In response, the door shut itself.

  The drive to Culpeper offered a good time to think. The afternoon sun cast shadows from the woodlands along I95. Cumulus clouds were picking up an orange tint against pale blue sky. The road was open, most traffic in the southbound. Core hummed more smoothly beneath him than any car he had ever driven. But, despite the wonder and freedom of it, Markman’s mind could not escape thoughts of the power he had so unexpectedly inherited. How far did it go? How much could he lift with only his mind? The large statue in the Aurora City had taken both hands and more mental exertion than he was used to. Size did seem to matter. There would need to be more experimenting to know just what could and could not be done.

  What was he supposed to do with this power? He had already decided it needed to be kept secret. There was no second guessing that. What could it be safely used for? Perhaps in emergencies, it could sometimes be used without his being discovered. Could he watch for situations where it would benefit someone? If there was an accident on the news, should he try to go there and do something? That was starting to sound like a superhero role. That seemed ridiculous. He would have to take things one day at a time. That was the only answer.

  In Culpeper, he stopped at the hotel, showered, changed into black jeans and his favorite black turtleneck, then found a seat at Cassiopia’s favorite restaurant. Throughout the meal he played around, sliding things across the table or levitating them from spot to spot, being careful that no one was watching. With a little practice, he found he could spin or twirl things in mid air. It had almost become fun.

  As he finished his sandwich, a text came from John Paul. Coffee’s on me. Commissary. Whenever you’re ready. Markman piled up his used napkins and headed for the lab.

  John Paul was sitting back at the usual table in the commissary, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, wincing from the great taste of his meal. Markman went to the serving counter and joined him with coffee. The two men sat drinking for a few moments without speaking. John Paul took a final sip and spoke with food still in his mouth. “How is she holding up?” He chewed and stared with great interest for the answer.

  “The surgery went just as you said it would. I think she’s okay. It bothers her how much she’s come to trust you.”

  John Paul stopped chewing abruptly as though offended. “It’s not wrong to trust,” he replied, and he raised his cup and sipped again.

  “I’ve heard that,” said Markman.

  “Which brings me to the first item you and I need to discuss; Professor Cassell. Three individuals were holding him, one named Palermo, a second named Ballard, and a third who calls himself Moriana. During the rescue, only one of the three were captured; Ballard. The other two managed to elude us. As we suspected, they had been forcing the Professor to work on equations--equations related to inter-dimensional physics. From what the Professor told us afterward, I personally suspect he could have completed those formulas but pretended to be unable to do so to stall these men. They probably knew it.”

  “The man does not take orders well,” said Markman.

  “Yes, just ask the surgeon in charge of his bypass surgery. In any case, the point is, two of the three individuals who abducted the Professor are still out there, and the Professor probably remains the only man on Earth who can help them.”

  “You think they’ll try something else?”

  “They have no choice.”

  “You have him out in the open. He’s a sitting duck.”

  “No. He’s a decoy.”

  “You’re using him as bait?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re endangering his life and Cassiopia’s.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “They are being watched from above.”

  “I’d feel better if I was there watching from below.”

  “That’s one thing I need to talk to you about, Scott. I need to again impress upon you not to participate in the capture of these individuals, were that opportunity to arise.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “We are talking about creatures who, though they may look human, are not of the Earth, nor are they bound by its rules. You seem to have an uncanny ability for tracking down bad guys and taking them on yourself. That must not happen this time. You must resist your instincts to do so. You lack the necessary powers to deal with these kinds of adversaries.”

  “Why don’t you educate me about them? Then I’ll know what I’m up against.”

  “Not a practical idea. There is too much to know, and too much of it is unearthly. You must trust me. If you somehow get involved with these individuals, back out and contact me. Do not confront them.”

  “That might get hard to do, but okay. Tell me something, what if you don’t get these guys? What if they eventually escape?”

  “That can’t be allowed. These individuals are evil. Wherever they go, evil happens. Take the 9/11 attacks. Do you think evil wasn’t involved then? That is the kind of thing that happens anywhere these individuals take refuge. They have a thirst for chaos, the renunciation of truth and goodness. That is their code.” John Paul took something from the inside pocket of his outdated jacket. He handed it across to Markman. It was two photographs. A reasonably normal-looking man was on each, one with silver hair, green eyes, and a weathered expression. The other had ivory hair, dark eyes, a narrow mouth, and pasty white skin. “That’s them. Do not let their somewhat average-looking appearance fool you. They are the most dangerous pair on the planet. Do not tangle with them. Leave that to others.”

  “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point. It’s only a little over an hour to Richmond, though. I’d still like to spend my off-time with Cassiopia. That going to be a problem?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Okay then. I think we’re good.”

  John Paul rose, went to the serving counter and came back with two fresh coffees. He gently pushed one across the table to Markman. They both tested the mix and set the cups down.

  John Paul spoke. “We did not have time to debrief after your last insertion into the Crillian simulation.”

  “You’re still convinced it’s a simulation?”

  “No, but let’s suffer the description until we pursue the theology of it further. You made a significant breakthrough on that last visit, but it is one that leaves more questions than answers, and something very unexpected also materialized.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We watched as the computer allowed you the power to levitate physical objects within the system. You caused quite a stir on the Main Square during the last Terran quake.”

  “Oh yeah, that. Talk about weird. It’s like I have super powers in there.”

  “That may benefit us greatly in the future. By saving those Crillian citizens, you may become a more trusted visitor. We may get answers from characters in there we would not otherwise have. I would also hope it provides you with additional protection in any dangerous situations that might arise.”

  “I don’t know about the trust thing. The Crillian Convention talk show seems less than happy with me.”

  John Paul gave a smirk and continued. “Let us hope we can solve the Salantian riddle quickly. The strange thing is, you have now found a very old, sealed vortport. That has to be a verification of the invasion of Salantians on the Crillian people, but it does not fit. We know that most, or all, of the Crillian population was eliminated by the Salantian invasion, yet that’s not what we see. We need to date the vortport you found. We need to know how long ago it was used. I s
uspect that someone on Crillia knows more than they’re saying. If you pick up a hint that someone knows something, you should pursue that. Written records are obviously leaving out anything to do with the vortport you found. We may be grasping at straws, but we need to find some elders or some historian somewhere who knows more than is written.”

  “They have a big-time fear of the underground. Kind of seems like people trying to avoid a bad memory.”

  “Yes. The other strange component is that the Salantians tried their first invasion of Earth just recently. We had thought they came directly from Crillia after laying waste to it. But the vortport you found on Crillia is old. There is a time discrepancy here. We need to solve that.”

  “Well, I’m ready. You want to suit up this evening?”

  “Can you handle it? Is it too much in one day?”

  “I’d prefer it. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 12