221. Bury It

“John, tell me what you want me to do,” said Tom.

“What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

“Bury it.”

John looked at Tom and echoed back his words as if trying to comprehend what emotion would emerge, what part of his soul would reveal itself if he gave the order. “Bury it.”

“Is that an order sir?”

My god thought John. Is this what I have become. “How certain are we?”

“No doubt.”

John weighted Tom’s answer with the blank face of one knowing the answer but still in the vague fuzzy space of hoping against hope the grade would be different.

“And Bravo?”

“Jammed.”

“Really?” asked John, raising his eyebrows and rubbing his neck as if he could feel the imaginary yoke of command. “On whose orders?” Before Tom could respond, John quickly added, “Never mind. It is what it is.”

__________


“What is it Trev?” asked Kyra.

“Not sure, but I think you better get down here,” said Trev, a strange excitement in his voice.

“Be right there Trev.” Kyra looked at Von and he looked back at her. “You ready for a little more drama?”

“Opportunity my dear,” smiled Von. “How would your Papa put it?”

“Be like yellow,” Kyra smiled back. “Be like yellow.”

On the bridge Trev was huddled over the communications panel, earphones on, face cherubic. "What you got Trev?"

Handing Kyra the headphones he said, "Listen to this and tell me what you hear?"

Kyra looked at Trev and then to Von and back to Trev. "Could you play that again and boost the signal."

Trev did.

"Holy mother of Janus," exclaimed Kyra, showing a rare display of untethered public excitement. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Hard to say," said Trev. "But I think we got some work to do."

"Do it." said Kyra. "And as soon as you have anything, anything at all, comm me. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

Kyra turned to leave. "Oh Kyra, one more thing."

"Yes Trev?"

"Our friends tried to jam this signal. In fact they still are."

"Really?"

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Kyra, Trev, Von

220. Any Way

Conversation overheard from somewhere on Bravo by someone who refused to admit they heard it:

So, do you believe her?

Nope.

So what do we do?

We love her anyway.

Categories: Story

219. Don't Look Back

[ed note: In this chapter, the Yul we know is Aly.]

The jumper pulled up to the crowded dock and four doors opened in a gale of storm and emotion alike. In every direction ships of all shapes and sizes swayed at anchor, creaking like old men, as families were torn in goodbyes like leaves from autumn trees in a blustery gust.

“Father, may I have a minute with Aly?” asked Yul.

Their father looked vacantly annoyed, divided between honoring Yul’s request while doubting Aly’s merit. He was a large Hynerian, domineering most would say, imposing, no one would deny. Still, what Yul wanted, Yul got. “Make it quick Yul. Schedules must be obeyed.” The look he gave Aly would have frozen a battle hardened soldier.

Yul grabbed Aly by the arm and pulled her around the corner. “Look, we don’t have much time—“

“Hey, let’s cut the crap. I’m not pissed you’re leaving and I’m not. Never expected otherwise. But what the frail! Did you have to wear the same outfit. How bout I just cut my wrist so you can throw a little salt my way, for old times sake, you know, just for fun, one last time.”

“Are you through? Cause if you are, I want your scarf. Here, take mine and give me yours.”

Aly’s jaw dropped. “Are you shiotting me? Holy mother of Janus, I never imagined you . . . . Wait, no frailing sense in . . . Frail it. You want my frailing scarf. Here, take the damn thing.”

“Aly, it’s not what you think.”

“Frailing easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a death sentence, one you didn’t choose, one assigned to you by others. Ever wonder what it’s like to be judged?”

Yul’s face changed and in one fluid motion she slapped the living shiott out of Aly. “Listen up. I’m only going to say this one time and I’m going to say it real slow so that thick head of yours doesn’t frail this up. I’m dying. Got maybe six months to live, perhaps a year with luck, which certainly is longer than this planet’s got.”

Aly wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. “So why are you telling me this? You think it gonna make me feel any better?”

Yul just shook her head. “You don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“You think I would dress like you on purpose? My Janus, it about killed my soul to put these clothes on. Look, here’s the deal. Your name is Yul and you are getting on that ship. You understand?”

Aly stood with a deer in the highlights look. “What are you talking about?”

“The whole purpose of getting people off-world is to save them from certain death, to give them a chance to start over. I’m dying Aly. Makes no sense for me to get on that ship when I know you could go in my place.”

“So why—“

“Father. You think he would let you go if he knew?”

“Nope.”

“So, I’m giving you your chance. Now take my scarf. When we walk back around, your name is Yul. You hug Father. Kiss Mother. Ignore me and walk your arse up that plank as quickly as you can. And Aly?

“What?”

“Don’t look back.”

Categories: Story, Yul, Hyneria

218. NotYul or Pieces of Me

“Yul, I’ve got something I need to say,” said Rog. “I’m not sure why I didn’t say this sooner, but, well—“

Yul sat up, opened her teary eyes and smeared her little fists across her face. “Rog, before you say anything, there’s something you need to know.”

“Baby—“

“Let me finish.” Rog sat up and Yul summoned her courage in what was only a second but seemed to both like a minute or more. “My name is not Yul.”

If Rog was a clock, he just stopped ticking; as he would later say, for one of the few times in my life, I had no response. He knew all was not right with her past and that she was not the one that was suppose to be on Bravo and had concluded that perhaps some sort of foul play was involved, something that Yul felt the need to hide, or at least not disclose. He had made peace with that picture. This name thing, however, caught him off-guard and his heart sank as if those five words had moved his peg back to the starting line.

“Rog?” Yul snapped her fingers. “I’m right here baby. Talk to me.”

“Sorry, Yu--.” Rog hesitated, hoping something intelligent would pop in his head, like real fast. “Okay, let me say two things.” Then he hesitated and rubbed his jaws as if they were rusty and needing oil, as if the rubbing would loosen his sticky hinges of articulation.

“Okay, whenever you are ready,” said Yul, filling the uncomfortable silence with a tone tinged with fear not unfamiliar. She rarely opened herself up because the few times she had, instead of love and understanding, she was judged and convicted. The pain of self-righteous condemnation was not a feeling she wanted to ever experience again. As Rog hesitated, she braced herself like one on the ground expecting to see the foot and not the hand.

“First, I don’t care what your name is, the person I see in front of me and the person I have come to know and love does not change with a label. Good milk is good milk, my dad used to always say, and don’t ever let no salesman convince you otherwise.”

Yul tried to laugh. “What the hellocks does that mean?”

Rog smiled that smile that only he could. “It means I love you, not your name, not your past, not my idea of who I think you are. I love you Yu--, or, well, crap, I forgot my second question. Not that it matters, but, what is your name?”

“I was called Alyssa, or Aly for short. Yul is my identical twin sister’s name.”

“You have an identical twin sister?”

“Stop it. I know that look. I’m serious Rog.”

“I know you are baby, but an identical twin. Give me a minute.”

“Imagine all you want, she was nothing like me. In fact, quite the opposite.”

“Sooooo . . . ?” (said slowly and softly as if he was tip-toeing through a minefield)

“So, you want to know why I’m onboard and she isn’t?”

“Yes. No. I mean . . . “

“Spit it out.”

“I mean yes, I want to know the story, but no, it don’t matter. As I said, what is done is done and that doesn’t change good milk to bad.”

“Her name was on the manifest. So, I assumed it.”

“I figured as much. You don’t have to share with me why if you don’t want to.”

“Ranch boy, it’s not a matter of want as much as need. You deserve to know and I need to walk to the edge and face an old fear. So I reckon, as you might say, we have a mutual interest.” Yul reached out and took Rog’s hands as she leaned forward. “But I need to ask you one thing first?”

“Sure.”

“When I fall, will you catch me?”

Rog smiled with eyes like full moons sitting on the horizon of his rising cheeks. “I think I can answer that question in one word: abso-frailing-lutely!”

And so Yul began to talk, and a lightness she had never felt came upon her as if each piece of her story was a rock taken from her shoulders, presented to Rog, and laid upon the floor.

Categories: Story, Rog, Yul, Paintings

217. Remembrance

Their father’s jumper struggled to maintain course in the face of hostile winds and if either of the sisters had had eyes to see, only dour grayness would have presented itself. Instead, one set of eyes looked to the right and the other to the left, and although only a foot or two separated them in the back seat, they might as well been on separate moons.

The dock was just moments ahead and one would have thought, in these last minutes there would have been a race to spill all the words bottled up inside. Instead, just silence, the kind of silence one felt on the way between church and graveyard when even the dullest recognized there was nothing to be said.

One would go and one would stay and the choice had been made. Yul was not surprised. She had never expected to be the one and the fact that their father chose her sister, again, only confirmed her world-view. She was the forgotten one, the forgettable one, the one who disappointed, who could do nothing right, the one who embarrassed, the one they didn’t speak of in family circles. And her sister, Janus bless her and it seemed he did, her dear identical twin sister was the day to her night. Truth be known, Yul would later acknowledge, she had no quarrel with the decision. Her sister was the one deserving of saving, the one who had earned it.

“Baby, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” said Rog. He stroked her hair and Yul, her face wet with remembrance, pushed her head tighter into his warm chest, her eyes shut like vaults.

Categories: Story, Rog, Yul, Hyneria

216. Forgive Me

Yul looked into the mirror and the voices returned. It doesn’t have to be this way. “You lie!” she spat. But they returned. It doesn’t have to be this way. Tears flowed and her blue eye makeup ran like watercolors. She tried to smile but the knots in her stomach would not allow it. You can do this. “Do what? Look me in the eye and tell me what I can do.”

The mirror didn’t move and her image became blurry as her nose joined forces in discharge. “You knew it was going to happen. Always did, always does. Nothing changes.” No, not this time, you can let it go. “Frail you. Tell, me what the frail do I let go of? Answer me! What the frail do I let go of?” Whatever you are holding. “Look at me, look at me, I’m not frailing holding anything.” I can see you don’t believe that.

Yul felt her knees give and her hands reached out to the vanity. Her hair, matted and wet, stuck to the side of her face and her head hung down as if she was going to be sick. “You heard what she said. We’re leaving.” But she doesn’t know. “She doesn’t care. Did you see the look in her eyes? She hates me, just like all the rest. And now, she is going to punish me. But you know what. She is going to learn. There ain’t nothing that will wash blood off one’s soul.” Yul laughed.

You’re wrong. “Frail you. Red dress, oh she looked so pretty. Yes so pretty. We’ll see how pretty she looks with my blood on her hands. She’ll rue the day she brought me back." You don’t mean that.

Yul picked up a small bottle of perfume and smashed it against the mirror; a thousand shards of glass flew like daggers in every direction. “The frail I do, now get out of my frailing head! Get out, get out,” she cried, grabbing her hair and pulling as if to evict the voices in her head. Falling to the floor she pulled her knees to her chest and whimpered softly, “Please, just go, please, leave me alone.”

“Oh my Janus Yul,” exclaimed Rog. “It doesn’t have to be this way baby.” He pulled Yul into his arms and held her tight. “I’m so sorry, oh baby, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” And he pulled her tighter and her arms, weak and shinny with glass, wrapped around him.

Categories: Story, Yul, Rog

215. Sun Globe

John tried the channel again. No luck, which seemed to be the par for the course. Team Kilo had mysteriously lost contact with the voice and this solar storm was preventing all communication back home. Not much to do but wait.

Reaching across his desk, John picked up his sun globe, a gift Cait had picked out for Ariel to give him for this mission. The globe glowed warm to the touch, animated by captured solar energy from Rubion and Triste. Sparkling with light his mind drifted to the sparkle in Ariel's eyes when she gave it to him.

John closed his eyes and let the warmth from the globe take him back. His bags were already loaded in the Carain and there was that awkward emotional sense of wanting to leave (to get on with it) and wanting to stay. The feeling was one that unless you had first hand experience, simply couldn't be described. One felt torn between duties, between family and hearth and god and world. It was a feeling no words could salve. He had long since stopped trying to explain to Cait and she had learned to stop asking.

John walked back into the house, standing just inside the door, and like owls in the night, two sets of quiet eyes starred back at him. Then as children are wont to do, Ariel broke the tension with a giggle as she skipped toward him, her hands held behind her back. He had bent down on one knee, his eyes on the same level as hers and the contagiousness of her smile gave birth to his own.

Then, without words, she held the globe out to him, her eyes full of expectant anticipation, longing to join her love with his, to seal a bond known between a father and a daughter. He did not disappoint. Holding the globe in one hand and Ariel on his knee in the other, he hugged her tight and looked at Cait with wet eyes. "It is the most magnificent gift I have ever gotten," he had said as he felt her little arms tighten with joy around his neck. And he meant every word.

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Caitlin, Ariel