The Guardian's Wildchild (25 page)

“Please go on.”

“I can’t. I’ve said too much already.”

Sam got up from his chair and looked out the window. “Trust is a precious thing, especially when lives are at stake. I understand your reluctance to trust me, Sidney. I wish there was more time.” He sat back down again and shut off his computer. “Off the record,” he stressed, “my gut is telling me that what you were doing is worth my stepping outside the limits of this uniform. What was it?”

Sidney studied him for a moment, weighing his apparent sincerity against the risk of opening up. Finally, she surrendered to trust, albeit hesitantly, revealing small pieces at a time.

“Captain, there would be a total power shift — devastating if placed in the hands of those not well-balanced in spirit.”

Sam struggled to remain patient in his approach. “Okay. What’s on that base that you, and only you, would be able to retrieve? Evidence of some new weapon?”

Sam detected the slightest change in Sidney’s demeanor. She was tense — almost holding her breath.

“Captain, would you trust the admiral if he had full control over a source of energy with limitless power?”

Sam was speechless for a few seconds. “Hell, I wouldn’t trust anyone with that much power. In the opinion of the underground, is there any urgency to stopping the admiral soon?”

“Yes.”

“How soon?”

“Perhaps a few days, a week at the most.” She lifted her hand to her chest. “Then prepare for the world to go mad with fear.”

“What?” Sam’s comlink indicated Bridges was calling.

“Captain, the prisoner is ready.”

“Bring him to the deck. Get a guard to take Sidney back to her cell.” His expression had returned to that of the man with a rule book and heavy responsibilities. “That will be all for today, Sidney. Tomorrow morning we have to conclude this business. Perhaps for both our sakes,” he muttered. “Is that understood?”

Sidney nodded. She wanted to stay longer with Sam. She hadn’t yet revealed the possibility of the destruction of the planet. But what she wanted even more was to forget the troubles for one hour, even just a few minutes, and simply be near him.

The guard arrived to take Sidney back to her cell. She asked Sam if she could spend some time on deck to watch the sun set.

He was gruff again. “No, not now!”

Taking a chance, she promised to be no trouble. “Just a few minutes,” she pleaded.

“Just go with the officer. Perhaps tomorrow evening.”

A vision came to her in a flash. “The prisoner. Someone is to be executed
now!”

She blurted it without realizing the impact of her words. Again she felt the anxiety of being placed on deck for her own execution. It all became so much more real.

“That’s not your concern,” Sam retorted.

“Captain,” she replied, “I need to be there. Someone needs my help. And you might learn a little about me at the same time.”

“It’s not a pretty sight,” he cautioned her.

“Death isn’t new to me,” Sidney said with conviction. “Please let me help the prisoner. I’ve worked with the dying. Death can be terrifying, or it can be experienced as simply a transformation. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Sam was curious enough to comply with her wishes. He and Bridges escorted Sidney to the deck where the prisoner was seated. Bridges and Dr. Duncan stood nearby awaiting the captain’s orders to carry out the execution.

Sidney stepped into the daylight from the deck’s hallway and saw a somber sky. The sun, partially obscured by the clouds, rested on the horizon. Only faint traces of its golden glow trickled along the crest of the waves to the ship’s bow. Sidney stretched her awareness beyond the gloom on the sea and the ship. She became calm and quiet in her mind. She found her center — the place where she could become in tune with the sacred truths.

The ocean breeze played with Sidney’s long hair, reminding her of her connection with the hawk on the island. Celeste had complete trust in her wings’ strength and ability to master the turbulent winds. Lifted by Celeste’s courage, Sidney would trust in her ability to resist the Dark forces that could be within the prisoner.

As the trio approached the prisoner, Sidney noticed his shoulders trembling. Trying to hide his fear from the view of his enemies, he turned his head away. His entire body filled with convulsions of terror. No longer fighting, no longer angry — just a man dreading every second.

Sidney asked Sam if she could approach the man alone and spend five minutes with him. She told him she’d put her hand to her chest as a signal that the prisoner was ready and the officer could continue with his duty. Sam agreed to the terms and relayed the orders to Lieutenant Bridges.

Sidney knew there was no possibility of pleading for the prisoner’s life. She knew nothing of the prisoner or why he was to be executed. It didn’t really matter why. She only hoped that through her, the prisoner’s death would be less traumatic.

She walked up to the prisoner and knelt down on the deck directly in front of him. His body and legs were secured to the chair. There was no aging of his face, now pale, no trace of scars from a difficult life behind the frightened blue eyes. His clothes were clean and tidy, and his dark brown hair combed. It was obvious he’d made an attempt to deal with this death sentence with dignity.

When their eyes first met, Sidney simply smiled at him. The prisoner continued to tremble so violently that he was vibrating the chair he sat on.

“Help me,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to die. Please, I don’t deserve this.” He was scarcely able to form the words in his mouth.

Sidney reached for his handcuffed hands. Shaking wildly, he tried to grab hers.

“I can help you. My name is Sidney. What’s your name?”

“I’m Marcus.” He began to sob uncontrollably.

“Marcus, you’re going to be fine.”

She took his hands firmly in hers. He felt the warmth of her touch and listened to the calming tones of her voice. Sidney believed it wasn’t so much what she said that mattered; it was more about letting him know he wasn’t alone. His crying slowed, and he searched her face, looking for a hint of something, perhaps something that would indicate this was only a cruel joke. What he saw was compassion. There wasn’t a trace of fear on her face.

“Marcus, I want you to look at only my eyes and listen to my voice. I want you to breathe in as deep as you can. Follow me as I breathe.” Sidney took a breath, and then slowly exhaled, watching Marcus make a weak attempt to follow her instructions. “Try again, with me. We’ll do this together.”

She caressed his arms. All the while, Marcus held his gaze on her eyes.

“Again, Marcus, breathe like you’ve never breathed before. Follow the air into your lungs. Feel its life force throughout your body.”

Marcus heard her voice more clearly and the certainty in it. His trembling subsided, and he inhaled more deeply. As he exhaled, Sidney asked him to release all his anger and fear. “Let go of all that stuff. It no longer serves you. Replace it with joy. Tell me about a wonderful memory.”

Marcus thought for a while. “I guess it would be the day I met my wife.”

“Good. What kind of day was it?”

“Oh, like none other, to be sure. I remember looking up into the blue sky and watching a few birds, swallows, I think. Lord, they flew with such grace. The sun was so bright, I had to look away for a moment. When I did, there she was.”

Sidney prompted him to tell her more about that day, and they talked as friends for a while. Marcus was gaining control.

“Now, Marcus, I want you to close your eyes and listen to my voice. Know that I can help you on this journey. I’ll place my hand on your chest. You’ll receive the guidance you need. Know that the essence of you isn’t dying, Marcus. You’ll go on. You just need help to get from this place, through a doorway, and on to a greater place. It’s that simple.”

Marcus began to tremble again.

“Marcus, think of the people who love you, how their love feels, how it has always given you strength and courage.”

His trembling eased a little. Sidney lifted her hand, and the sensation of healing energy surged through it into the man’s chest. This same flow of energy also connected her to a world the Guardians understood. She closed her eyes. Allowing her mind to become quiet, she saw the hawk soaring above her mountain home. She heard the hawk calling, guiding her to the place of her higher self.

Suddenly, a figure stood before her. It was a stocky woman with graying hair and a round, cheerful face. Smiling, she said her name was Francis and that she was there to take Buddy home. Sidney acknowledged her and returned her attention to Marcus.

“Marcus, who’s Francis?”

Marcus opened his eyes with a start. “Francis was my grandmother’s name. Why do you ask?”

“She’s here. She said that she came to take Buddy home.”

Marcus grinned. “She always called me Buddy. We were very close.”

Sidney instructed Marcus to close his eyes again and to remember times with his grandmother. He did as she asked. Sidney put her other hand to her chest.

The pistol fired twice. Marcus’ body jerked in a spasm and then slumped forward. The bullets had entered the side of his head and passed through his brain, exiting the opposite side of his skull. Blood ran down from his face onto Sidney’s hand, still resting on his chest.

The ship was silent. No one spoke, there was no expression of any kind. Even the ship’s movement seemed to cease, momentarily suspended in time and space. The officers waited. Sidney’s hand continued to rest on the man’s chest. She appeared to be almost in union with him, both of their figures surrounded with an air of peace.

At last, Sidney opened her eyes and nodded to the officer standing by Marcus’ chair. The doctor examined the prisoner’s body and confirmed he was dead. Without a word, the crew untied him, lifted him onto the gurney, and took him away to the morgue.

Still kneeling on the deck, Sidney saw Sam standing a few feet in front of her. He bent down on one knee and simply looked into her eyes. His gaze touched her in a way she’d never known. She found herself seeing beyond his uniform into the eyes of a man who appeared as powerful and gentle as the energy she called upon.

After a few moments of silence, he resumed his detached and direct manner and told her she could remain on deck a few more minutes. He offered his hand to help her up. The setting sun slipped into the horizon, gathering up what remained of its consoling warmth. Darkness enveloped more than the ship.

The seamen had begun cleaning the blood off the deck. Soon, the ship would again appear simply as another armed merchant ship. No trace of any loss of life. Sam’s comlink earpiece advised him that the admiral was calling. He grabbed hold of Sidney’s arm and swiftly returned to his office with her. He nodded toward his office sink.

“Wash the blood off your hands. Be quick.”

When she finished, Sam motioned for her to sit down in the chair farthest from his desk and out of view of his computer monitor’s receiver. He motioned for her to be quiet. Activating his office comlink, he looked into the monitor.

“Good evening, Admiral. Sorry for the delay in getting back to you. I was in the middle of the Darby execution.”

The admiral paused before saying, “I see. I guess it’s too late, then.”

Sidney noticed that Sam appeared to be holding his breath. He stood motionless in front of his computer monitor staring at Admiral Garland’s face.

“Too late for what, sir?”

“I’ve just been informed that the bombs Darby planted were harmless. Only duds, but I doubt he knew that.”

“Admiral! Do you realize what I just did! I just executed a man that did little more than trespass.” Sam used every ounce of strength in his body to keep under control. The muscles in his face were tight from clenching his jaw. Sam began to pace. “God, I just committed murder.”

“Like hell, Sam. Don’t go overboard. The man committed a terrorist act.”

Sam snarled back. “You can paint it any which way you like, Admiral Garland. How many of the others — ”

“Captain, watch your step. Need I remind you of your shady past? You could be dead or rotting in a jail and your sons in some foster home. I gave you the benefit of a doubt — more than any other reasonable man in my position would’ve done. That can change, Captain Waterhouse. As long as you follow my orders, you’ll have your rank and your sons will enjoy a good life.”

Sidney couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d wondered before if Sam was on a path not of his own choosing. Now it was obvious that Admiral Garland had full control of him.

Sam turned his back to the admiral and yelled over his shoulder. “You’ll have my usual report in the morning. Waterhouse out!”

Silence took command of the captain’s office. Sam went to his window and stared out into the night’s void while Sidney waited for the razor sharp tension to soften. Sam crashed into near despair, and even though his back was to Sidney, she sensed his intense regret. He stood motionless and spoke to her only through his aura. It was saturated with pain and hopelessness. It left Sidney confused. She’d never thought of him as anything but in control, unmoved by circumstances, always knowing his next move.