Ashlyn Chronicles 1: 2287 A.D. (16 page)

***

The fugue exploded, releasing enormous waves of raw energy. Even to the naked eye, such was the surge of power that their auras were both aglow. The fugue joined them, encasing them in a bubble of radiant, swirling colors, a spectacular outward display of their internal passions.

Their talents and abilities would now begin to grow, launching them into their new life together.

Yet, from somewhere deep inside Steven’s mind, things began to go horribly wrong. Without the inhibitor, there was nothing to govern the fugue taking control of him. It continued to accelerate exponentially, going far beyond its intended limits, pushing him into a bottomless abyss of desperate desire. What should have transpired naturally over a period of months happened in an instant, during the thump of a single heartbeat.

His mind fractured, splintering into hundreds of disconnected pieces. Reaching out, he tried to grasp onto the single thing he could still comprehend, the only thing that was within reach—Ashlyn.

As his trembling fingers reached out, seeking to touch her face, he collapsed to the ground. His body curled itself into a fetal position. Weeping uncontrollably, his body shaking like that of a frightened child, his mind succumbed to the frightful nightmare from which there was no escape.

Ashlyn knelt beside him, taking his hands in hers. “Steven, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Steven!”

Her words never reached his ears. His sanity had fled from him.

Ashlyn’s heart jolted with pain, fearing for his life. “Steven, look at me. Look at me, Steven!”

He lay in the sand, devastated by despair.

Ashlyn gently put her hands upon his face, urging him to look at her. She stroked his cheek. “Look at me. My love, look at me,” she whispered. “Look at me, Steven. Please.”

The faint spark of the man he had once been saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes, though he could not see from where it shone.

With their eyes locked, their auras melded. As his mind opened to her, Ashlyn guided him, helping him to focus his thoughts upon the physical sensations of power flowing from the fugue through her fingers, touching his face, his hands.

During his time of distraction, she searched his mind trying to understand the cyclonic demons that had driven him into the pit of madness. She saw the moment that Steven had discovered Tynabo’s broken vial in his cabin.
Oh my god,
the dampener. He never took the dampener.

Though surprised that she had not realized it sooner, she now understood the reason for his madness, for without the vial’s dampener, the spark had unleashed a hunger inside him that was greater than any human had ever known—a desperation deeper than any man had ever been asked to bear.

Instinctively, Ashlyn knew she could help him. Relaxing his mind, she guided him into a state of deep slumber.

Scanning his memory, she erased each of his tortured, fractured, visual images and his mind-altered thoughts. He would remember their discussion and their kneeling together on the sand, and the soft touch of her hand atop his.

He would awaken happy, refreshed.

***

Steven awoke, roused by the tingling sensation of Ashlyn’s left hand grasping his. Her touch was that of a thief, for it had stolen his heart. He was shocked to see that three full hours had passed since the conference had ended. Rising quickly, they headed for the shuttle. Though they were alone, they rode in silence, experiencing an awkwardness that spoke of their struggle to publicly repress their intense passions. Only after Ashlyn had exited the shuttle and the doors had slid closed behind her, did Steven allow himself to collapse in a feverish sweat to the seat beside him. Unfastening his collar, Steven hoped it would free him from his suffocation. It didn’t. Though she had left, his heart still beat like tribal drums. His legs felt weak, exhausted.

There was no doubt within his mind but that he and Ashlyn were one. His life was now her life.

Steven’s return to his quarters was tarnished by Renee’s moody silence. It was unsettling, chilling.

Phillip and Sandee had ear-to-ear smiles at having their father home again, but under Renee’s disquieting mood, their excitement evaporated like water in a steam kettle. At Steven’s request, the kids scampered out of the room, giving him a chance to talk with Renee. “Ren, what is it? What’s wrong?”

After a brief pause she said, “I’m going to miss you, that’s all.”

Steven knew it went deeper, but something inside stopped him from pressing the issue.

That night, though he and Renee had made love, it passed slowly for Steven as he lay awake. He dared not fall asleep for fear that he might dream and Ashlyn would come to him.

As dawn approached, Steven gave both Phillip and Sandee a kiss on their forehead, saying a second silent goodbye to them while they slept—knowing he might never see them again. The mission was a dangerous one and the odds were against them. The vision, if it held true, would deny his return.

He neared the door. “Renee, I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I’ll be fine. Take this.” Renee then placed her antique Harry Potter book into Steven’s hand, and with a single finger upon his lips, said, “Go now, before I lose the strength to let you fulfill our destiny.”

Surprised by her words and haunted by the intense solemnness with which she had spoken them, Steven melted before her unshakable will. He had not the resolve to question her. The look of mourning in her eyes as the door slid closed shook him like nothing before ever had.

Before heading to Avenger’s transport Steven went to the bio-med lab to see his friend, Victor Gregor.

Entering the lab quietly, making sure not to disturb the ongoing research in progress, he found Victor alone, sitting atop a small stool, cataloguing a vial of blue liquid.

Victor was a rotund man, die-cut from the stereotypical, scientific mold, wearing a knee length white smock and black wingtip anti-slip shoes.

Steven cleared his throat. It was as gentle an interruption as he could think to make.

“Hey—Steven! I was wondering if you were going to stop by.” Victor threw his arms around Steven in a warm hug. “Sorry I couldn’t make the ceremony. I was in the middle of a timed experiment. By the way, congratulations on the victory!”

After the pleasantries, Victor excitedly began talking about the recent developments. “The DNA samples you sent us are remarkable. You wouldn’t believe their chemistry. Their blood is similar to the basic components found in seawater. I can hardly wait until Renee gets down here to see the analysis. This is what she’s been waiting for all these years, and I’d be willing to wager that within two months she’ll find a way to destroy them.”

Steven admired Victor’s passion for his work. “That’s great, Victor, it really is, but I need to talk to you about Commander Parker. About me.”

Victor took a seat. “Are you referring to the vial Tynabo gave you? I’m assuming you took it.”

“No. It broke during the shockwave that hit Avenger. That’s the thing. When I met Ashlyn today for the first time, when our hands touched, nothing happened, nothing at all—and I don’t understand why?”

Victor thought for a moment. “That’s a big question. I can think of a dozen possible reasons. Going out on a bit of a limb, I would venture to say that you should be okay. Do you feel any different?”

“That’s the strange part. I do. I’m feeling great. I know that the touch deepened the connection between us, and yes, I feel even more drawn to her—but I also feel stronger, more focused. Like I said, I am feeling great. All the bad side effects that I’d had these last two months—the dizziness and headaches—they went away the moment Ashlyn touched my hand. I feel better than I ever have.”

Victor shrugged. “You’ll never see a doctor complaining ‘bout good news, but you should keep in mind that Tynabo was referring to intimate contact.”

Victor went to the computer. After typing in a few words and pushing a few buttons, he shook his head. “The scanners we inserted in each of your wrists after you returned from Denver show that both of your hormone levels are still growing exponentially. The two of you are still changing, still merging. You will soon reach the point where you can’t stop yourself. Like Tynabo said, your needs will become too strong. Hell, as a man, it’s even hard for me to be around Ashlyn—so I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you.”

“Yeah. So far so good. But honestly, I feel like I’m drowning,” confided Steven.

“Under the circumstances, that’s understandable. Just remember, none of this is your fault. You are acting in accordance with the way they made you. As your doctor, obviously, I would help you if I could, but there isn’t a damn thing I can do. Some things are out of our control.

“And Steven—Renee knows that. She’s seen the readouts. Didn’t she talk to you about it?”

“No.” Steven’s head dipped. He acquiesced. With a hug, they said their goodbyes.

Aboard the transport, Steven reviewed the details he needed to go over with Brooks. Avenger was little more than an hour away from launch, and if all went well, they would be on the ship for seven to ten weeks, though due to time dilation—faster-than-light travel—fourteen to sixteen months would transpire for his family back on Earth.

He glanced down at the book Renee had given him. It warmed his heart, bringing her closer to him. He recalled her parting words, ‘Go now, before I lose the strength to let you fulfill our destiny.’

It was only now that he realized Renee had said
our
destiny, instead of
your
destiny.
Perhaps Victor was right.
She knew more than she was letting on. He was now sure of it.

“One minute ‘til docking, Admiral,” said Robbie.

Broken from his thoughts of Renee, Steven stared out the port window at the star-filled heavens. It brought back fond childhood memories of the warm, summer nights when he had watched the sky with his father and his dog, Boomer, from atop the water tower on the ranch. He remembered how he and his father had playfully sat for hours swinging their legs from the tower’s platform walkway.

The nights had been so peaceful, the air so crisp, the stars so bright. They were the nights in which his father had told him stories of glorious adventures and of slaying alien monsters. They were the days of his innocence. They were the days when the weight of the world wasn’t riding upon his shoulders.

Steven remembered how badly he had wanted to visit the massive ISC-3 as it traveled overhead each night, its three large rings easily visible with the naked eye from almost any point on Earth. It had been his inspiration for wanting to attend the Academy.

Outside, the great hulk of the captured alien flagship came into view, replacing his view of the distant stars. Her design was sleek, efficient and far more pleasing to the eye than was Avenger. Her triangular shaped hull seemed built for speed and she had virtually no external, visible arrays or protruding structures.

Seconds later the transport entered the bay. Her magnetic skids settled onto the deck of Defender, the new name given only that morning to the alien ship. At the base of the transport’s exit ramp stood Brooks, poised like a faithful dog. Steven had an urge to pat him on the head and tell him, “Good boy.”

Glancing about the bay, Steven took note of just how quickly Defender was transforming into a vessel that had all the earmarks of having been made by human hands. Steven had requisitioned fifteen hundred people from Sea Base to be brought aboard to help with the extensive refit. Workers moved about, speedily remodeling her interior, painting and labeling machines and devices, which might otherwise have appeared to be as foreign as the reading of Braille to the sighted.

“Welcome aboard, Admiral,” said Brooks with a formal salute.

“Thanks, Leslie. I had no idea the shuttle bay was so large.” Steven was truly impressed. “I wish I had time for a full tour, but I’ve only got time to see the bridge.”

One thing that was unique to Defender was her transportation system. It was something akin to a small train that ran along the center of the hull. It was an automated, relatively slow moving chain of cars that cycled endlessly down the length of the ship. You just simply hopped on or off, in the direction you needed. Riding along, though the leisurely pace made Steven feel a bit lazy, it lent itself to the conversation that he needed to have with Brooks.

Steven told Brooks about Victor’s expectations of finding a virus, which would be Earth’s best defense against a future attack.

They spoke of the need for Brooks to remain vigilant. They both knew that the element of surprise was on Steven’s side, but once the alien fleet became overdue at home, the advantage was lost.

“We’re here,” said Brooks, stepping off the train near a large set of open doors that led to the bridge. As they stepped inside, Steven was in awe of the clear glass canopy that enclosed the entire bridge, making every view, every angle of space, spectacular. The Earth off the port bow, even with all the calamity it had endured, appeared as a jewel against a black velvet backdrop.

“She’s amazing, Leslie!” Steven looked around the room at the bridge and its dozens of duty stations. “It’s hard to believe that you've accomplished so much, so fast. You’ve done a magnificent job, Brooks. Magnificent.”

He turned to the comm officer. “Comm, please open a channel on the public address system for me. I have an announcement to make.”

“One moment, sir. Channel, open.” Two small chimes sounded, garnering the attention of everyone, everywhere.

“This is Admiral Sherrah. Avenger will be sailing shortly, and before I go, I want to express to all of you my admiration for the job you have done. You have overcome impossibly high odds. You should be, and indeed have the right to be, proud of what you have accomplished. With my departure, Commander Leslie Brooks will be assuming command of Sea Base as well as Defender. I ask that you give him the same loyalty and respect that you have given me. I also know that you will do so because he has earned your loyalty based on his own merits. It is for this reason that, on this day, I am promoting him to the rank of Vice Admiral. I have complete confidence in him to lead you through our current crisis and into the future. My heart will be with you always. Godspeed, my friends. Sherrah out.”

“Congratulations, Admiral,” said Steven to Leslie with a formal salute. Reaching into his breast pocket, Steven removed his personal set of worn bars and held them out to Brooks. “I was commissioned with them only days before I was married. They were awarded to me by President Tomlinson’s own hand and they have stayed upon my shoulders until this very morning. If you treat them with the respect that they deserve, their very sight will lighten your burdens.” He placed them within Brooks’ open palm. “I’m sure that they’ll serve you every bit as faithfully as they have me.”

“I can’t! These are yours.”

“No, Leslie, they are yours now. I am leaving two of the most important things in my life behind—my bars and my family. It’s your responsibility to guard them both.”

“I will,” Brooks said softly as his fingers closed over the bars. “I wish Defender could sail with you. It’s going to be god-awful tough waiting for you to return.”

“Your job is here. Defender is the last line of defense. I am ordering you not to follow. If we lose Sea Base, then all is lost.” With a last glance about the bridge, Steven gave a salute and left.

Aboard the transport, Steven stood at the forward window as Robbie backed the Dolphin transport out of Defender. As the shuttle pulled away, he placed his hand upon the cold glass and gave a small wave goodbye.