‘I do see you, Lucian, I do,’ she declared, most sincerely, before returning to hide behind her work facade. ‘But if dating you means you quit, refusing to date you means that you may as well stay.’
Lucian lost his humour. ‘Don’t you ever take that damn business hat off?’
An argument; this was a promising development in Taren’s eyes. She was running out of time, and the willpower to keep her distance from him. ‘I do apologise,’ she faked being affronted, ‘but personal favours were not in the contract.’
Lucian was insulted, frustrated, and finally just embarrassed. ‘You’re right.’ He stood. ‘I won’t keep you from your interests any longer.’
‘Most appreciated.’ Taren’s heart ached and her head gave a cheer to see Lucian exit the front door, which he slammed a little bit louder than necessary.
Taren winced, but did not pause to take a breath before messaging Anselm to ensure it was not too late in the day to make the transfer.
Her father immediately responded with a ‘we’re still good to go’, whereupon Taren envisaged herself at her father’s side, and tingled all over as the molecular world complied to her prompt.
What an idiot! Lucian could hardly believe he’d read the situation so wrongly, or been so unprofessional! Dr Lennox was absolutely right to be annoyed at him. Still, it wasn’t like he’d accosted her — he’d only brought her dinner. It did make sense to keep their relationship on a business level, but the thought of working with Taren and remaining detached was inconceivable! Heaven forbid if he had to watch her date someone else! He dreamt of her often and he thought about her all the time — how was he supposed to keep it on a business level for a decade?
Why her? He appealed to common sense, as he entered his own dwelling, situated down the beach next to Taren’s. He’d never been this attracted to another human being — so why did he have to choose the one woman who was vital to the survival of his project?
Yes, it is a gamble that could go horribly wrong, he conceded. However … if we could make it work, it could be the perfect situation for both of us. How he wished he’d said that to her face. Had she even conceived of that possibility? Lucian knew, from the way he caught Dr Lennox looking at him sometimes, that she was interested, and she claimed she was not dating anyone else. He’d been so sure the attraction was mutual. Perhaps she is just putting her professional priorities before her personal ones, like I used to be able to do. Lucian scolded himself and took a breath to accept that he was in the wrong in this instance. Taren wished to be left alone to work this evening; she’d made that very clear and he’d intruded anyway. He’d hoped that she might have been waiting for him to make the first move — so he had and clearly she was still not interested in seeing him outside of business hours.
An apology is in order. Lucian did an about face and headed straight back over to Dr Lennox’s unit. Obviously he would be disturbing her, yet again, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he’d resolved the situation.
He knocked then stood rehearsing his apology in his mind. Once he’d been over it a few times, he knocked again, and several minutes later there was still no response. The entry pad said the door was unlocked.
Perhaps Taren is on her important call to Anselm, and I should come back later?
He took a few steps toward home.
Still, even if she was on a call, she would acknowledge a knock on the door?
Lucian stopped in his tracks and turned about.
What if she has hurt herself?
At the risk of looking like a stalker, Lucian opened the door and entered his colleague’s unit.
The door to the front veranda was still open and the warm evening breeze blew through the dark interior, which was otherwise deathly quiet. ‘Dr Lennox?’
When Taren arrived inside the personal office of her father’s private home, she wasted no time with niceties. Taren found her working relationship with her father far more comfortable than being his daughter — all memory of him had been erased from her memory banks by the MSS up until a couple of months ago. ‘What is going on? Why has it taken so long for you to grant me an audience?’
Anselm, who had come to expect the direct approach from his daughter, motioned for her to take a seat. ‘Maladaan has rejected the proposal to decriminalise psychic powers.’
‘What?’ Taren, devastated, sunk into a seat. ‘So what will Sermetica do now?’
‘I intend to forge ahead with the new laws here and make Sermetica a working test case for our cause,’ Anselm assured her, although the decision was not going to be without its ramifications.
‘The Phemorians will admire you for your stance.’ It would please Taren to see her parents getting along — if only in a political sense.
‘But Maladaan may withdraw from the United System’s council, if Sermetica does not,’ Anselm said, outlining the downside.
‘Who do you think Frujia will side with?’ Taren hoped that their project was not about to get kicked off their adopted planet.
‘That’s difficult to predict,’ Anselm said. ‘Chief Matan-tu-hoo has no love for psychics, but I believe he has even less love for Maladaan. Weighing up our mineral resources verses Maladaan’s technology, I believe the Chief of Frujia will side with us.’
As alarming as these developments were, Taren had another, more pressing concern. ‘Where is Bob?’
‘If you don’t know, I certainly don’t.’ Anselm appeared as confused as she was. ‘I thought you had directed him somewhere. His partner is missing too.’
Taren was perturbed, but if both Zeven and Mythric had disappeared, the chances were that they were together. ‘Did he leave any message?’
‘No. However, I have felt a disconnection from him that I had not expected.’ Her father placed a hand to his heart — only Taren knew that was where he kept his piece of Juju.
‘I noted that too,’ Taren concurred. ‘Is he okay, do you think?’
‘From reports, he is, but as to where he is or who he is with now, I couldn’t tell you. And it is better perhaps that I do not know. The enemy is too close to me and anyone close to me is bound to come to his attention.’ Anselm forced a grin. ‘I had hoped to stay in contact with you, but I fear that too is a risk we should no longer take.’
Taren hadn’t expected that prospect to hurt as much as it did.
‘It’s too important, it’s too big,’ he stated sensibly, but not without a tear. ‘I am so proud, but I will not be the one to expose our greatest hope for universal justice and peace. I have to let go.’
Tears were welling and falling down Taren’s face also. ‘Good call.’ She also thought that any private meeting between them was tempting fate. ‘But I still expect you to attend the project functions, you realise?’ She sniffled back her emotion.
‘You know I’ll be there, with bells on,’ he concluded with a smile.
Taren stood and, although this would be their last meeting in some time, she suppressed her urge to be emotional. ‘Thanks for the heads up on the state of the nation. I’ll be watching the developments with great anticipation.’
‘One more thing.’ Anselm waylaid her. ‘I need to ask you about Starman’s girl.’
‘What about her?’
‘She has requested to enter the service, and as she is a girl of many talents, she would be a great asset to me. Any objection?’
Taren couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. ‘By all means train her up, if that is what she wants, but in five years’ time, she belongs to AMIE.’
‘I shall direct her there myself,’ Anselm agreed, whereupon Taren materialised a piece of Juju in her hand and handed it to her father. ‘For her protection, tell her the rules — wear it in contact with her skin, never take it off, never let anyone see it.’
‘I’ll make sure it is understood. Good luck finding Bob,’ Anselm said with a friendly nod of his head. ‘I dare say he’ll find you, the very mention of you always got him a bit hot and steamy under th —’
&nb
sp; Taren gasped, as a flash of her hot and steamy encounter with Zeven on Oceane, once upon another time line, was revealed. ‘I think I know where he is.’
Although Taren had lost her psychic link to Zeven, she had an open channel to Mythric and, envisioning him, she braced herself for the pelting warm rains of Oceane.
The warmth of sunshine upon her form before she was even fully present made Taren wonder if she’d guessed her destination entirely wrong! Still, water up to her thighs was consistent with her memories of Oceane.
She found Mythric floating atop the floodwater on a sun lounge, soaking up some rays. His eyes were closed and he seemed blissfully oblivious to her arrival.
It appeared as if they were in an invisible tube of clear weather, around which the normal storm activity on Oceane still raged. Yet the light that was pouring down on them was not that of the local sun, but the bright blue-light glow of their over-soul, Azazèl-mindos-coomra-dorchi, who was tending to the development of life on this planet.
In her original time line, the AMIE project had discovered Oceane and this being ten years into the future. Taren had only become aware of her spiritual connection to what to the naked eye appeared as a colourful gas during the course of her adventures across time, dimension and universes. Whenever she stood in the presence of Azazèl-mindos-coomra-dorchi, she felt filled to the brim with all the higher emotions — the pure joy of being a contributing member to existence.
To one end of the good weather area was a very comfortable dwelling up on poles, where Mythric and Zeven were obviously now basing themselves. ‘Well, nice to see you’ve been working on those manifestation skills, boys.’
Mythric was startled out of his wits, but seemed pleased to see her as he threw a leg over each side of his buoyant seat and sat upright. ‘What do you mean boys, this is all my doing?’
Taren was surprised that Zeven had left all the decorating to his partner.
‘You haven’t heard then?’ Mythric removed his shades. ‘Starman has lost his spark.’
‘Tell me you are joking.’ Taren was alarmed, as she knew how Zeven would feel about that development, but it did explain why she no longer felt connected to him. ‘How?’
‘It seems our mutual over-soul believes that Starman may be more of a hindrance than a help to our cause, and has withdrawn protection and support until he proves himself wise enough to again be connected to the rest of the Zagriata.’
The news about Zeven was terrible, yet Taren had never before heard anyone refer to the legend in a group sense and the implication was a great relief to her. ‘The legend refers to many,’ she stated to be sure she understood, although she’d always felt that in her soul. She could not achieve all she must alone and it seemed that the universe did not expect her to.
Mythric nodded and smiled, sensing her relief. ‘You are just our timekeeper, who, like an alarm clock, is here to wake us up.’
The relief descended in waves upon Taren. ‘How do you know?’
‘Because we are not the first wave of Zagriata to have been born, as the Dowager Duchess Maiara Vidor will tell you,’ Mythric said, and Taren was confused.
‘And how do you know the grand old duchess of Sermetica?’ she asked, knowing the woman was her own father’s great aunt.
‘I am her grandson, Spyridon Vidor.’ He sounded none too thrilled to admit it.
Taren had heard the story of this royal. ‘The one who killed his lover and their child?’ she squeaked, unable to believe him capable of such a thing.
Mythric was pained by his legacy, but was glad to be able to finally set the record straight. ‘Khalid killed Satomi —’
Taren gasped on her empathy as she suddenly realised Mythric was kindred — and yet another of her bloodline who’d had his life ruined by Khalid.
‘Zeven is the child who Maiara prophesied would defeat Khalid,’ Mythric added, ‘and he would have died by Khalid’s hand that night also, but Maiara saved him, with the help of a young healer.’
‘Oh my …’ Taren made the connection between Zeven and herself suddenly, and he was indeed her cousin! ‘Satomi was my mother’s older sister.’
Mythric nodded to concur.
‘So, you are my uncle,’ she deduced, quite delighted.
‘Only by marriage.’ He raised both brows suggestively, to lighten the heavy mood.
‘Now I know where Zeven gets it from.’ Despite the sad history, she was pleased that Zeven had finally found where he fitted into the universe. Now that the connection had been made, Taren could see that Zeven and Mythric were very much alike. ‘Where is he?’
‘In bed,’ Mythric advised, motioning up to the house. ‘I can’t get him out, not even the dry spell got him motivated.’
‘Oh dear.’ Taren rose up to stand on the surface of the water and then walked toward the stairs.
‘Sheesh.’ Mythric smacked himself in the head as he witnessed her feat. ‘I’ve been wading around for days,’ he explained his annoyance.
‘That’s what happens when you suppress your Powers long enough, you forget how to use them,’ Taren said with a laugh.
‘And I thought I was doing so well.’ Mythric motioned around to his clear weather area and home, and then shook his head.
‘If it makes you feel any better it took me a few visits here to work it out too.’
‘Well, I’m supposed to be smarter than you, you’re my baby niece,’ he grumbled.
‘You thought to bring Starman here, that’s pretty smart,’ she said. This was the one place in the universe no one would find Zeven, and Oceane was rich with their soul-mind’s energy — if Zeven would heal anywhere it was here.
‘Actually, this place was the boy’s idea.’ Mythric put on his sunglasses and reclined back into his sun lounge. ‘So I guess all you kids are smarter than me.’
Taren had chuckled, but did not dispute the claim, as she headed up the stairs onto a large covered veranda and then inside to a dry, spacious dwelling.
The inside of the abode reflected the minimalist island furnishings of the native dwellings of the Frujian isles. The dividing walls were made of matting that allowed air to move freely through the dwelling. One of the rooms was darker than the others, with all its blinds drawn, and therein Taren found Zeven.
‘You haven’t given up on us, have you?’ Taren raised the matted cover at the entrance to the room and tied it off so that she could enter.
‘They gave up on me,’ he retorted with a groan, as he rolled onto his back, appearing disinclined to raise himself.
‘Way to go proving that the powers-that-be are wrong about you.’ She raised the blind abruptly. Zeven was showered in light, which appeared to cause him pain, as he rolled away from it.
‘I’ve been here for days. I’ve appealed, I’ve repented, I’ve meditated and I’ve begged …’ He escaped out the shady side of the bed and stood in the shadows. ‘… and nothing!’ Zeven yelled out his frustration. ‘I’m still useless!’
Taren, who stood in the light of Azazèl-mindos-coomra-dorchi, did not react to Zeven’s anger. ‘Your remorse is not what is needed; it’s your intention that counts. What is your intention, Zeven?’
‘What do you mean?’ Zeven argued. ‘How does my intention matter, if I’m not allowed to do anything?’
‘You are not allowed to do anything that will draw attention to the Zagriata,’ Taren stated, although the words she spoke with such conviction were not coming from her own understanding; she felt Azazèl-mindos-coomra-dorchi was speaking through her, for she had no true understanding of Zeven’s spiritual predicament herself.
‘What is the point of doing anything if you cannot excel at it?’ Zeven voiced his beef rather strongly, unaware that he was attempting to win an argument against his higher self.
Taren shook her head, disappointed by his narrow-mindedness and ego. ‘If everyone else within the ranks of the Zagriata can achieve what they must quietly, why do you find it so impossible?’
Zeven pulled his hea
d in, suddenly sensing he was not reasoning with Taren anymore. ‘I’m a test pilot, or at least I was. I get paid to take risks and excel, and when you excel, you stand out!’
‘A talent that will serve you in the future,’ she agreed, ‘but that now, nearly exposed the Zagriata.’
‘But I don’t know how to do anything else?’ he said in desperation.
‘Exactly. So would this not appear the opportune time to find a new vocation?’ she suggested, but Zeven appeared disgruntled. ‘There is nothing to stop you quietly achieving other skills that could serve our future aspirations.’
‘I want to be a pilot on AMIE.’ Zeven already had all the skills he needed to achieve that. ‘And I’m the best there is!’
‘So you can think of nothing more constructive than lying around here for the next five years, feeling sorry for yourself while you wait for AMIE to be constructed? What about serving others, without seeking recognition? There is no greater way back into universal favour.’
‘But I am powerless?’ Zeven said; he’d once considered having the Powers as a disability, and now he felt the same about not having them.
‘Psychic skill is not the source of personal power,’ she replied. ‘As long as you live and breathe, you have influence in the physical world, for better or worse.’
Zeven was getting teary, knowing he was not going to be told what he wanted to hear. ‘I’m lost,’ he admitted, throwing his hands up. ‘I thought I knew my destiny, to make a stand with the Zagriata, but now I’ve screwed up, my path forward is not so clear.’
‘Was it ever really clear how these extra years you’ve acquired would be spent?’
The query made Zeven think. ‘I guess not.’
‘If you were on the wrong path, then what you perceive now as misfortune could put you on the right one.’
‘You think?’ Zeven motioned to his isolated location.
Taren gave a firm nod. ‘Setbacks are a chance to collaborate with fate,’ she told him. ‘But the first thing you need to do is accept that you may never get your supernatural powers back.’
‘What?’ Zeven freaked.