A Thread of Time: Firesetter, Book 1 (9 page)

“We'll have to find him,” I declared,
although I kept my voice at a whisper.  Poor baby needed her rest instead of
traipsing around this spacebase looking for some dude.

“Uh---Lancelot,” Wen started to say,
stopping in the middle of the shopping hordes, nearly becoming trampled by a
family of Cascadians, each nine-foot tall. 

“What?”

He waggled his finger back and forth, his
mouth once again smiling in a goofy way.  I turned to see what he was waving
at, expecting the anatomically correct animatronics to have followed us into
the mall.

“What?  What are you pointing at?”

“You, Lance.  You're her father.”

“No way!” I shouted, nearly dropping the
kid on the concrete floor.

After that, I picked up my pace, running
to the spacebase's administrative offices.  I figured they could direct me to
the police or whoever would care.  

Naturally, it was after hours and the
offices were closed, except for emergencies, in which case I had to pick up the
red phone and dial zero.

“Lance?” Wen asked, just as I was reaching
for that phone.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling the authorities.”

Naturally, the phone was dead.  No dial
tone.  No numbers to push.  No operator to ask me what in the hell I wanted.

“Fuck,” I exhaled, leaning against the
wall and shifting the sleeping child to my other shoulder, as the one she was
drooling on had started to ache. 

“She's very pretty.  She looks just like
you, except for---well---she's a girl and she has red hair and green eyes and
looks completely different.  I mean---”

“Shut up, Wen,” I sighed.  “We'll take her
back to the ship and let SpaceForce Command figure this out.”

I had thought that Command would compel
Jill to take Sandy back.  Abandoning her child was an action unbecoming of an
officer.  Of course, the same could be said for me, because sure enough, DNA
tests proved that Sandy was mine.  So, there I was, a brand new father to an
eight year old girl.

I was given a new cabin with a tiny closet
of a bedroom for my daughter and she was enrolled in the ship's school and
daycare programs.  At night, we would eat together with Wen and Noodnick in the
family dining center, along with all of the other crew who had kids aboard.

It was a little difficult at first getting
used to this little person in my life.  Sandy loved to watch the vid and
monopolized it whenever she was in our cabin.  She also liked to lock herself
in the bathroom and lay in a bubble-filled tub for hours on end, leaving me to
run down three decks to use Wen’s toilet whenever I had to go. 

Having Sandy around did bring a few
benefits, though, some that I could never have imagined.  To all the single
women aboard, I suddenly looked like an awesome father.  They flocked around me
and the kid, asking me out on dates even though they had refused me before. 
Nearly every weekend, Noodnick or Wen was called upon to babysit.

A couple years later, after I had been
promoted to full commander, when Sandy was in the fifth grade, or thereabouts,
the Discovery was reassigned to patrol the fourth sector.  We were near the
boundaries of what had been the old Empire, orbiting a moon which had an
amusement park that Sandy was sure to like. 

We were heading out on shore-leave with
Wen and Noodnick, when I discovered that old coin sitting in my dresser
drawer.  On a whim, I put it in my pocket. 

“Hey, I wonder if anyone on this moon will
be able to tell me how much it’s worth.”  I was talking mostly to myself, but
Sandy overheard. 

“What?”  She turned her gaze away from
that show on the vid, which featured a bunch of kids singing in some high
school auditorium.  Once again, I marveled at how incredibly beautiful my child
was.  No matter how many times I looked at her, my Sandy had the appearance of
a red-headed angel. 

“I've got this coin.”  Fishing it out of
my pocket, I began to explain about my inheritance and how I had intended to
take it to the old Empire.  “So, I've been in space for nearly a dozen years,
and this is the first time I've gotten anywhere close.  Maybe someone will make
me an offer for ten thousand dollars or more.”

“May I see it, Daddy?”

“Sure.”

I laid it in her hand.  It was gold and
heavy.  Despite its age and wear, the etchings were still quite clear.  The
backside had the Imperial Crest with the black eagle and two crossed swords. 
Displayed on the front, in profile, was the old emperor's face.

Sandy looked at it in her palm and her
mouth fell open wide.  Her big green eyes instantly filled with tears. 

“What is it?” I cried as her hand began to
shake. 

“I lost this,” she wailed.  “This was
mine.”

Chapter 11

Pellen

We had traveled across the sea for nearly
seven days when the peaks of the Blue Mountains came into sight.  This was
quicker than I had imagined, for the distance to our motherland had always
seemed as far as the next star, and as difficult a journey as traversing
through space.  The winds had blown strongly and from behind us, swelling Jan’s
torn sail as if their sole purpose was to propel us to the awaiting shore. 
This made our passage easy.  The boat rocked little and though it was small,
there seemed to be room enough for us four. 

The rains came each day, but only briefly,
filling our bucket with just enough to wash and quench our thirst.  Jan and the
little orphan, Dov fished often, their nets trailing behind us in the morning
when the currents were calm and the fish climbed to the surface in search of
food. 

For our meals, we shared their catch,
carving it into small pieces, devouring the raw salty flesh as if it was the
finest of delicacies served in the land.

My son enjoyed this menu, much more so
than the thin soups and flat, stale breads he was accustomed to at home. 
Whether as a result of the proteins in this flesh or the irons in the fish
blood he sipped, Amyr remained strong during those few days, sitting upright,
or walking slowly about the boat.  In my haste to depart, I had forgotten all
his medicines at home, yet now, without them, he seemed healthier than before. 
His strange, but beautiful eyes, glowed like a brilliant rainbow of light,
although there was a new darkness in them, a coldness, as if his joy was gone.

“What is it?” I would ask him.  “What
troubles you, my son?”

“Nothing, Papa,” he would murmur, turning
away.

My son was changing on this voyage,
metamorphosing in a way I could not understand.  It was ever so slightly,
almost unnoticeable until I blinked and then, I could not say exactly what was
different. 

This I knew, always, despite his lifetime
of frailness and infirmity, Amyr had a peace about him, a smile upon his face. 
He was loving and we cherished him.  Inexplicably, his very presence seemed to
fill us with hope.  Now, I felt a chill whenever I gazed upon his face.  My
lips froze when I kissed his forehead.  My hand stopped and refused to touch,
when I reached to stroke his beautiful hair.

“Leave me be, Papa.” 

He dismissed me, turning his back when
only days before I had clutched him to my chest.  I feared I was losing him,
when in truth, to me he was already gone.  Only days before, I had a wife and
son and now I was alone with neither a family, nor a home, journeying across
the massive sea to a land unknown.

What became of my wife, I could only
guess.  For weeks prior, in the village, I had heard rumors that made my heart
sicken.  If Ailana was alive when the Korelesk’s army found her, I shuddered to
imagine what they did.  My wife, despite her thin form, and the new cruelness
in her heart, was still beautiful, so much so, all others paled beside her.

I had also heard tales of camps and prison
like places where our people were taken and put to work.  I didn’t know much of
these things as only snippets were passed in the whisperings between one and
another.

Of course, all of it could be false, I had
told myself.  In this time and this century, I could not imagine my fellow man
so uncivilized and cruel.  This was before the army came to our doors.  This
was before our village was reduced to rubble and ash, and I was set adrift upon
the ocean.

I was thankful beyond measure that we had
come safely to this boat and that our travels on this sea were going well. 
Each night, I bid these children to join me in prayer, to thank the Holy One
for His guidance and His grace.  Although we didn’t know the words, having
never spoken the language of the motherland, I believe we communicated these
thoughts in our hearts. 

Dov and Jan joined me in this worship,
kneeling by my side, bowing their heads and holding hands, closing their eyes. 
Amyr sat on the forward deck, purposely avoiding us and our prayer, his odd
eyes flashing in the darkness at the sea.

“Is he not grateful?” Jan asked after
bidding him to take her hand, to which he shook his head and resumed his perch
on the bow.

“Of course, he is,” I began to say.

“He prays in his own way,” the street boy
replied with a knowing certainty in his voice and in his eyes.

“How?”

The little boy shrugged.  “Leave him
alone.  You won't understand even if he tells you.”

“And, how do you know?” Jan demanded. 
“The two of you have only just met.”

Dov smiled.  “Like him, I am an old soul,
as old as the wind, as old as the sea.  Amyr and I have crossed paths many
times in other lives.”

Our travels were filled with endless hours
of boredom when I grew restless, for there was little for me to do.  I would
have fished or guided the boat, but my skills were poor, while the children
took pleasure in these tasks.

Instead, I stared at the horizon and
reflected upon my arm.  I had been shot, yet I showed no trace of wound.  I had
seen both blood and bone and felt the searing pain.  A moment later, I saw and
felt nothing amiss. 

Had I imagined it all, the healing touch
from my son’s hand?  Jan and Dov had seen it too for days afterward, Jan
insisted upon examining my arm. 

I did not dare approach my son and
question him, despite how it consumed my thoughts both day and night.  However,
my wife’s parting words resonated through my skull.  He was not my son.  He
never was.  But, who did he belong to then, and why was he here?

Now, I could see not only was this true,
but entirely obvious, had I dared to look.  He resembled nothing of me, not in
his beauty or his temperament.  I had always attributed his looks to Ailana’s
fair genes, assuming her father had granted him the wavy black hair, the noble
brow, the firm chin, and the strangely colored eyes.

“Jan,” I whispered to my niece one night,
while we lay awake staring at the vast star-filled sky and bathing in the light
of the two moons.  “Have you ever seen a picture of Ailana's father, or your
grandfather, perhaps?”

“No, Uncle.  Why do you ask?”

At first, I didn't respond, for to do so
would be to admit out loud that which I truly didn’t want to know.

Jan hesitated, and her breath came
quickly, which I knew meant she had something to say. 

“Tell me,” I bid her with a sigh.  “It
doesn't matter anyway.  I will always love him as my son.  I will always love
you, my niece, the same as if you were my daughter.”

Jan drew a long deep breath and exhaled
slowly, speaking to the stars, refusing to meet my gaze.

“I shouldn't,” she insisted.  “What Mama
told me was a secret not to be shared.”

I nodded, although she did not see it. 
Revealing this was nearly the same as exposing the secret itself.

“Mama said Amyr takes after his father. 
Mama said had she not been present and seen Auntie give birth, she would have
doubted that Auntie was even his mother.  I am sorry, Uncle.  You have been the
best father to him, and to me, for I can recall so little of my own papa.”

I patted Jan's hand and rose unsteadily. 
The boat rocked beneath me as it bobbed up and down on the waves.  The winds
were calm, but the current was strong, and we still moved along with a steady
clip as I stood grasping the rail and watching Amyr.

He was laying upon the boat's bow.  Dov
sat next to him, their feet side by side.  Their hands were behind their heads,
their faces upturned to the darkened sky. 

I saw then in the light of the two moons,
everything that I missed in the daylight of the sun.  My son, my heart, my babe
was the issue of another man, and with a face that was recognizable by another
name.

The next morning a large boat approached
us from the shore.  Aboard were our kinsmen, although they did not know it. 
They pointed their guns upon us and shouted in a language I didn't understand.

The children waved and called, but the men
didn't lower their guns until Amyr climbed from the tiny cabin where he had
been asleep.  I didn't know if it was his face that caused such shock, his
fluency in a language he had never once uttered, or the brightly colored light
shining from his eyes. 

“Kari-fa!” a man declared, his voice
carrying across the waves. 

He stepped back from the rail and spoke
quickly to his comrades.  The only word I understood was the exclamation at the
outset of his sentence.  It was a profanity my grandfather often used and one I
would not repeat in the presence of these children. 

However, he was not the only one to utter
this expletive.  His companions pointed at my son and cried the same, reminding
me again how blind and foolish I had been.  What was clearly obvious to these
strangers had eluded me for more than ten years. 

In the end, the Karuptas laid down their
guns and welcomed us aboard their vessel.  Towing Jan's little craft along
behind, I wondered how the four of us crossed the ocean in such a tiny boat
without being swamped by waves or capsized by a gust of wind.

Several hours later when we stood
unsteadily upon the shore, our feet unused to the earth after so long at sea, I
marveled again how we came to escape, while our friends and neighbors were now
dead or enslaved.

I knelt upon the dirt of this holy land
from which my forefathers and mothers sought so anxiously to leave and I, just
as anxiously or more so, had longed to return.

“Kira-ka tefira laka lanu,” a man said as
I let the soil sift through my fingers. 

I shrugged and shook my head, apologizing
for my lack of comprehension.  He repeated his words louder as if it was only
his volume that kept me from comprehending.

“He says you have been blessed,” Amyr
announced from his side.

“By who?” I asked, as my son walked away. 

He left with the men of Karupatani,
leaving me alone with neither wife, nor child.

“He belongs with them,” Dov said taking my
hand in his.  “You have done your part and now it is time for someone else.”

“You have us, Uncle,” Jan said.  “And, we
are home.  We are your family.”

Thus, it was, and I told myself, I would
be content.  I was, for here amongst my people, I was meant to be.