A CROSS ALL TIME

A CROSS ALL TIME

Copyright and Fiction Disclaimer

? 2019 Steve Haggerty

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author?s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Art

Jay Smalley, artist extraordinaire!

Steve Haggerty, doodler

A CROSS ALL TIME

A Novel by

Steve Haggerty

1999

?He?s going to do it.  Again.?

?Are you sure??

?Yes.?

?Why??

?He?s disappointed.?

?Understandable.  Do you know when??

?Soon.  He said in a few decades, or so.?

?A hint??

?He never hints.?

?Then why say anything?  Why give any warning at all??

?Good question.?

?He might be open to persuasion.?

?Maybe.  I can try.  Again.?

?You can.  You must.?

?It can?t totally rest on my shoulders.  Not this time.  He will have to see a major change.  He will have to be convinced.?

?I can help.  Maybe we can just nudge them in the right direction.?

?It will take more than a little nudging.  And our involvement must be minimal.?

The light of the newly risen sun is warm on their faces.  They bask in the light of the new day.  The bright, salty ocean in front of them is very different from the dark olive garden where they last met.

?Can we keep it secret??

?He hates Christmas more than any other time.  He never pays attention then.?

?You?ll have to go back.?

They are silent for a long moment as they watch the sun slowly rising to the East.  The water is cool; the gentle waves lapping at their ankles.  Fine sand softly shifts beneath their soles.

?I know.?

CHAPTER 1

?The Moon?s moving.?

Warren, roused from a slight catnap he might have been sneaking, looked over at his fellow astronomer, closed his eyes for a moment more, and then slowly shook his head.  His nocturnal companion, dressed in a tie-dyed T-shirt and holey blue jeans, was hunched over his terminal, squinting at a screen full of figures.  Remmy?s scraggly beard and long, dirty-blond hair threatened to hamper his hands? machinegun-like typing as he tried to make sense of the numbers before him.  There was a slight bluish-green haze in the air, the result of the weed Remmy had been smoking since they arrived at Palomar Observatory at midnight, about three and a half hours earlier.  Based on the amount of cannabis the man had burned, Warren imagined that his colleague could probably feel the very Earth moving beneath his feet.  He let out a small sigh.

?I figured it would be.?

For the last three nights they had been using the 200-inch Hale telescope at Palomar Observatory in the Palomar Mountains, working on their joint thesis.  The Caltech facility, located about 90 miles southeast of Los Angeles, wasn?t used for much these days, not with the twice revamped Hubble space telescope still taking great pictures, and especially with the BIG EYE on the dark side of the Moon fully operational.  Still, it was good for theoretical and lesser practical applications.  But the optics weren?t very modern, and with the smog and the bright, light-polluting sprawl of Los Angeles creeping ever nearer, it was not the best viewing location on the planet.

?No, I mean it is moving, has actually moved a lot, and is still moving ever so slightly.?

?What are you talking about??

Their thesis centered on how Earth?s natural satellite maintained its more or less constant orientation to the home planet, and why it did that.  Of course, everyone knew that it rotated once every time it went around the Earth in its twenty-eight-day orbit, like a ball on a string, but the mystery of why it did that was up for debate.  It was a simple thesis, variations of which had been used countless times before by the not-so-academically-gifted doctoral candidates.  In reality, the two of them had chosen the topic because they thought it was way cool that the old Man in the Moon always faced the Earth.

?According to my calculations, the Moon has tracked way off of its normal orientation, stabilized in a new alignment, and is now making very quick, almost infinitesimal movements to keep one side continuously aligned with a point out beyond our Solar System.?

?That?s impossible.  It constantly wobbles as it rotates the Earth, but always has the Man in the Moon winking at us.?

?I know, I know.  But come here and look, you can see what I?m talking about.  Adjusting for the orbit of the Earth around the sun, the orbit of the Moon around the Earth, and the new rotation of the Moon on its new axis, it seems to be keeping its former dark side pointed at a region of space many hundreds of light years away.?

Warren, in his own humble opinion always the more stable of the friendly duo, grew more agitated with his thesis partner.  Why was he carrying on about where the dark side of the Moon was facing?  If what his longhaired, 1960?s hippie throwback friend was saying were true, the astounding thing was that the Moon had changed its orientation at all.  Dubious, he walked over to Remmy?s workstation and looked at the brilliant disk of the Moon that the Hale telescope was providing.  He immediately noticed that something was wrong with the image, and after just a few minutes at Remmy?s computer, he grudgingly confirmed his buddy?s initial observations.  The Moon had moved and was still moving!  And as it attempted to maintain its new orientation with that far point Remmy was obsessed with, the Moon was beginning, for all intents and purposes, to rotate in a different direction and at a different speed.  It was the first time that had happened in millions of years.  Usually, it rotated once for every orbit of the Earth to keep one side visible at all times to observers there.  If it had rotated even a little bit faster, or slower, there would not even be a ?dark side of the Moon? as a new slice of the heavenly body?s surface would have been visible to observers on the Earth every day.  But now it was rotating faster, and on an entirely different axis.

He wondered aloud what Pink Floyd would have named their famous album under these current circumstances, setting off a frenzied conversation between the two about what they were seeing, and whether the 70?s rock group would have come up with the album in the first place if the Moon had been rotating like it was tonight.  Ultimately, they settled down, perhaps the amount of THC in their bloodstreams diminishing sufficiently to allow cognitive thought.  Both scientists-in-the-making questioned if they were going to be the first ones to bring this startling new development to light.  Highly unlikely, as there were countless Moon-watchers out there who must have been going nuts.  Not to mention the folks manning the BIG EYE telescope up at the lunar facility, Armstrong Base.  Still, it was a monumental discovery.  Warren took a more detailed look at his partner?s calculations.  He had to admit that Remmy was one hell of a mathematician, and he was a little embarrassed by how long it took him to confirm the other man?s work.  He shook it off, reasoning that his intellectual sluggishness probably resulted from the couple of hits he may, or may not, have taken from the sometimes-ambiguously-legal burning substance sweetening the air about them.  He stood up and ineffectively ran a hand through the close-cropped brown hair on his head.  Frustrated, he lashed out at Remmy, but just a bit.

?Why do we care where the opposite side of our Moon is facing?  Which way is the Man in the Moon facing now??

?Not towards the Earth.  And I don?t think it matters anymore, as it looks to me like the old Man in the Moon ain?t in charge anymore.  I?m not totally certain, but it appears that the most likely anchor point for the outbound vector is on the Moon?s previously hidden surface.  You know, somewhere near the coordinates for that big fancy telescope that we couldn?t get any time on, because other more fascinating studies took precedence, and thus we ended up here at Palomar.?

?You mean, the BIG EYE??

?The one and only.?

?Do you think somehow the geniuses up there are causing the Moon to reposition itself?  Swiveling the Moon to view something they couldn?t constantly focus the BIG EYE on??

?I don?t think that Mankind has the ability to move heavenly bodies the size of the Moon just yet.  Least not that I?ve heard.?

Not to say that the human race hadn?t made some pretty spectacular advancements in the last decade or so.  With the discovery and continuing development of the IFORD (Instantaneous Frame of Reference Drive) late in 2020, exploration of the Moon, and more recently, around the Solar System, had become possible.  Man had cemented his presence on the Moon, begun the actual colonization of Mars, and even put a small observational outpost on Mercury.  Travel beyond the Solar System was not beyond reality, as instantaneous, inertia-less flight, by latching onto really fast frames of reference, was just on the horizon.  The theoretical, hot-air-balloon-modeled drive, just had to harness a spatial ?wind? pattern with enough relativistic velocity and direction to take the ship quickly along the desired path.  And though certain mining interests had been able to begin exploiting the wealth of the asteroid belt, moving planetary-sized bodies, or even moon-sized objects, was not yet possible.

?Well, at least I agree with you on that, Remmy.  Still, I wonder what is causing the Moon to move??

Warren and Remmy worked for a couple more of those dark early morning hours, refining Remmy?s calculations.  An observer would not have guessed that the two men were life-long friends, as peas-in-a-pod they were not.  The blue haze that had been filling the Palomar Observatory slowly dissipated, as did the fog it had caused in the young, future professors? brains.  Once they were finished, they had pinpointed that the dark side of the Moon, or more precisely a position on the dark side of the Moon exactly coinciding with the coordinates of the recommissioned BIG EYE telescope there, was the anchor point of a constant vector maintaining a straight line towards a distant point about 1000 light years away.  They could not determine how or why this was occurring.  A long discussion ensued about their immediate course of action.  They reasoned that a multitude of people already knew the Moon had moved and was continuing to move.  But they thought that perhaps they were the only ones that had discovered the resulting lunar anchor point, the 1000 light-years long vector, and the possible intersection point of a series of those vectors.

Still, they were more than a little apprehensive about taking their findings to their thesis advisor, for fear of recrimination, especially in light of their recent consumption of hallucinogenic substances.   Ultimately though, after triple checking all their figures, they decided that they had to contact their advisor, Professor Jack Simmons, and disclose their findings.

?Do you want to call Simmons, or do you want me to??

?You?d better.  I still feel like I?m floating a little bit.  And besides, Jack likes you more than me.  With that spiffy haircut, your button-down shirt, and those khaki pants, you?re beginning to look like just like him.?

?Ok.?

Warren had figured as much.  And Remmy was right.  He had started mirroring their doctoral advisor a bit lately; reasoning that even a little subtle synchronicity with Dr. Jack Simmons couldn?t hurt.  He knew that he would need all the help he could get securing his doctorate.  He sighed as he looked down at his wristwatch.  It was still about an hour before daybreak, and on a Sunday, at that.  He didn?t relish this call at all, but knew delaying it would just cause their advisor to be more upset later for them not notifying him at the first opportunity.  His call was answered before the third ring.

CHAPTER 2

A couple hours later, on what had once been the far side of a now much more rapidly rotating Moon, Director Derek Thompson was having conniption fits.  It had become quickly, and alarmingly, obvious that the Moon had started to move at about three sixteen in the morning, Lunar Standard Time, which coincided exactly with Pacific Standard Time on Earth.  After the initial panic caused by that first large lunar movement, the gross and then fine positioning motors of the BIG EYE had been able to readjust the telescope?s aim back towards the Keid star cluster, which it had been observing at the time.   Now, five hours later, his team was still having difficulty maintaining the telescope?s aim at that same star system because of the Moon?s continued new rotation and accompanying infinitesimal shifts.  Though the movements had grown smaller, they were still very quick.

?What the hell is going on??

Though he had asked that very question, or some variation of it, many times over the past few hours, no one had been able to provide anything near a satisfactory answer.  And it was his job to get answers.  Thompson had been chosen three years earlier as project manager overseeing the reconditioning of the BIG EYE lunar observatory.  Ultimately rising to Director of all human operations on the Moon, he had enjoyed every single day he had spent on Earth?s sole natural satellite.  At least until now.  There just didn?t seem to be any explanation for the Moon?s recent behavior.  Its initial movement had been unexpected, unprecedented, and still remained unexplained.  And it was apparently still rotating, but not on an axis perpendicular to its original orbital plane, or even remotely near its orientation before the strange gyrations began.   Those tiny, rapid movements were continuously straining the BIG EYE?s fine positioning motors, with some beginning to overheat.  Also, the Keid star system was approaching the lunar horizon and would be unobservable soon.  Not that the study of that system was of great import now, considering what was happening to the Moon itself.

?Okay, let?s cut the engines, bring her to neutral, and try to evaluate what?s going on here.?

His engineers powered down the BIG EYE?s positioning motors, and the large telescope slowly gimbaled about 78 degrees directly skyward, coming to rest exactly perpendicular to the horizon, pointing straight up from the lunar surface.  They didn?t bother to deactivate the camera, so a spectacular view of the heavens above remained on the numerous monitoring screens there in the control room, and on countless remote observational sites Earth-side.  Director Thompson called a meeting for all available engineers and scientists in one of the larger conference rooms, adjacent to the BIG EYE?s control room.  There was a large monitor on the room?s wall behind him, still showing the live feed from the BIG EYE?s optic.  The hubbub of muted conversation continued until everyone had arrived and taken their seats.  The eleven men and women, who actually made up the majority of the population currently inhabiting Armstrong Base, quieted when Thompson cleared his throat and gave them the withering glare that he was famous for.  All of them, like him, were dressed in the same tightly fitting, off-white space-suit undergarments.  He hated the way he looked in the outfit, the jumpsuit accentuating his not-so-athletic and maybe a little bit chunky body.  But one never knew when or where a small meteorite might penetrate one of the base?s exterior walls and cause a rapid decompression.  Space-suit storage lockers were positioned throughout the rooms and hallways of the facility, each containing a number of generic, temporary emergency suits and helmets for just such a calamity.  He stoically ignored the perceived indignity of his appearance in the damned outfit.

Just as he was about to speak, the cell phone on his hip vibrated annoyingly.  He glanced down and shook his head in frustration.  Jack Simmons, his old roommate from college, had been pestering him from Earth all night.  Starting a couple of hours after the Moon had begun moving, Jack had called three times and now texted him as often.  Thompson had ignored all of those previous attempts at contact, just as he ignored this one.  He lifted his gaze to the expectant faces of the scientists and other project personnel seated around the large central table.

?So, what do we think is happening here??

He was not happy with the ensuing silence.

The lack of any input, and thus the absence of any logical explanation, was disheartening.  And no one was even willing to express an opinion.  As the silence lengthened, Thompson grew angrier, the frontal emissary vein on his pale forehead bulging, and beginning to dance a bit like a shocked earthworm.

?Come on, people!  Somebody has got to have some idea.  Throw it out there; let?s talk about it.  No idea is too absurd.?

Finally, after a couple more moments of silence, one of his cadre took a chance and spoke up.

?Some sort of meteor strike, earthquake, or maybe a volcano erupting??

?There hasn?t been any recent volcanic activity on the Moon, at least not in modern recorded history, or even in a geological time span, so far as we can tell.  And seismic events, more accurately moonquakes, as we know, are minimal due to its small solid inner core and narrow molten layer beyond.  That core and molten layer make up only about 20% of the mass of the Moon and are well below the surface.  It?s too far for molten material to work its way to the surface and form an explosive volcano, or cause major tectonic shifts.  So far as asteroids or meteor strikes are concerned, I think we can rule them out, as well.  Anything powerful enough to get the Moon turning in a new direction, on a totally different axis, we would have felt.  And it would have registered on our seismic instruments.  Big time.  However, no such seismic event occurred.  Good start, though.  Anyone else??

?Solar flare??

?Good, good.  There has been a marked increase in solar activity of late, some postulating that a major eruption of some sort is imminent on the Sun.  But there are no reports of any such event having occurred recently, with its resulting material reaching the Moon anywhere near the timeframe of the initiation of this lunar anomaly.  And besides, a solar flare having the magnitude and resulting Coronal Mass Ejection to reach here and cause the Moon to start rotating, or even move a meter, would have fried us, and the Earth as well.  And since I?m still up here talking to you, I think we can rule out solar activity as the culprit.?

?How about some quirky gravitational force?  Maybe a large dark body, or even a small black hole passed close enough to set the Moon rotating.?

?And we just didn?t see it coming, or notice any other distortion that the dark body or black hole caused as it approached?  Come on people, you are supposedly some of the brightest minds in the Solar System.  One of you must have a hunch, or even an unreasonably reasonable idea??

He was immediately sorry he had lost his cool, especially after inviting any fresh ideas, even the most hairbrained, supposedly without fear of condemnation.  He turned and looked at the monitor behind him.  It was a beautiful vista of the lunar sky, but whatever forces had put the Moon in motion were more than a little perplexing.  Like the rest of the people in the room, he had no idea what was going on.  But he somehow needed to keep his composure.  Just as he was about to apologize for lashing out at his team, the phone at his hip again buzzed annoyingly.

?Damn it,? he said, glancing down and seeing it was his old roomie, once more.  Dr. Jack Simmons could be a persistent, pestering bastard at times:  brilliant to be sure, but a royal pain in the backside.  They had attended Harvard together, both on full-ride scholarships, similarly aged, and similarly gifted.  Jack was a mathematical savant, who incongruously took his prodigious talents into the field of astronomy.  At Harvard, they were a perfect fit, each disappointed with the level of instruction they received from arguably one of the finest institutions of higher learning on the planet.  Intellectual equals, they challenged one another incessantly, gaining heights of understanding in the sciences that their professors could only dream of.  And just two years later, by the time they were eighteen years old, both had easily attained their Bachelor?s degrees from Harvard.  Not that such an auspicious accomplishment mattered to either.  Immediately after graduation, after a quick and tearful goodbye, Jack had packed his bags and moved out to California, where he had hoped he would find satisfaction with the free-wheeling geniuses inhabiting that state at the time.  Derek didn?t think Jack ever found what he was looking for, though for a while, he thought that he himself had.

Thompson put that thought aside.  He had more pressing issues to occupy his time than reminiscing about his past shortcomings.  But his old roommate was being even more persistent than usual, and he was one of the most celebrated astronomers in the world.  He decided that in light of what was happening on the Moon, perhaps it would be wise to see why Jack was being such an annoying pest.

?Look everyone, get to brainstorming.  I have to take a few minutes to answer the text that I just received, but when I return, I hope one of you can come up with some sort of reasonable explanation for what the hell is going on.  Hold on, maybe that?s asking too much.  I?ll even entertain fantasy, if you can convince me.  Anything, really anything, is worth consideration.?

He stepped out of the conference room full of befuddled scientists and engineers and walked back into the BIG EYE?s control room.  He started by reading Jack?s earlier ignored messages, and his annoyance quickly turned first into puzzlement, and then into curiosity.  He decided that he really needed to give his old friend a call, instead of just texting him back.  He pushed the speed dial on his phone and waited for the connection with Earth.  The Moon had a great cell phone system due to the large number of many-miles-high towers that had been erected on both lunar poles, along its equator, and at various places on its surface.  Signal strength was never a problem and reception was crystal clear.  And the space between the Moon and the Earth was empty, except for the odd satellite or two, so it was nearly perfect for radio transmissions.  The only drawback was the 1.3 seconds it took for a signal to reach the Earth, and then the 1.3 seconds needed for a return signal.  Radio waves, like light, could only go so fast.  That didn?t seem like much of a delay, but 2.6 seconds made for surprisingly disjointed conversations, especially with impatient scientists trying to solve a particularly perplexing problem.

?Hello.?

?Hello Jack, it?s Derek.  How are you??

?Hey, Derek, I?m??

?Jack, sorry it?s taken??

??glad you finally took time from your busy schedule to return my calls.?

He heard Jack?s words, which were not in response to his opening pleasantry, but more an opening salvo from a disgruntled peer.  Thompson sighed.  His bad for not calling back earlier.  And even worse, for forgetting that annoying 2.6 second round-trip for words and ideas.  He waited a moment for Jack to hear his words, and getting no immediate response, he dove right into the topic at hand.

?As I was about to say, I?m sorry I haven?t had a chance to return your calls and texts, but I have been pretty busy up here.?

Jack had obviously remembered the inherent time lag in lunar communication, so his reply came back after a couple moments of silence.

?Yeah, I could imagine.  Moons don?t usually start moving of their own accord.?

?No, they do not.  And we still have no idea why our Moon has started behaving like it has.  However, your texts seem to indicate that you have discovered a rather interesting upshot of that movement.?

?Yes, two of my post-graduate students, and I use that label rather generously, were studying the Man in the Moon?s penchant for staring at the Earth, when they witnessed our sole natural satellite?s new movement.  And then, they somehow stumbled on the fact that your facility appears to be the anchor point of a series of vectors traveling out and intersecting a point quite some distance away.  As more time elapses, you should be able to refine the actual distance using advanced parallax techniques, but for now it looks like those vectors intersect about 1000 lightyears away.?

?Have you checked their figures??

?I checked before I called you the first time.  And I have had the opportunity to recheck the calculations a couple of times while I waited for you to respond.  I even asked my two future PhD?s to do a little sky survey of what lay along the paths and at the intersection of those thousand lightyear long vectors.?

?Did they find anything??

?No, nothing, really nothing at all.  And why should they?  The Moon?s behavior has to be a random occurrence, doesn?t it??

Thompson hesitated, taking a little longer to reply.  He smelled something fishy in the way Jack had worded his last three sentences.  What did he know?  Or suspect?  Jack Simmons loved to get him to commit one way or another right before he cut him off at the knees.  And the bastard only did it when he knew he totally had the upper hand.  He loved the guy.  But he was sure that his old roomie was baiting him now, someway.  How?

The Moon?s initial movement six hours ago had to be arbitrary, with its new rotational parameters also a matter of chance.  Right?  Ah, that was it.  Holy crap!  The Moon might have been nudged into a new rotational axis and frequency by some as yet unexplained force.  But it was continuing!  And that was the real crux of the situation.  Whatever had caused the Moon?s actions was still affecting it.  Jack?s last question implied that the Moon?s movements were anything but random, or for that matter, natural.  But there was something more, something as yet unspoken.

?Ok, Jack.  What do you have for me?  You?ve obviously discovered something more.?

?I guess you remember your old roommate?s tendency for the dramatic.  Hah!  Yes, we think we have discovered something.  It?s surely not what caused the Moon?s movement, but maybe it?s the reason for it?  We don?t know.  You are the only one in a position to identify the anomaly.  Or maybe the Hubble can.  Our scope here at Palomar just won?t cut it.  Why don?t you power up that BIG EYE super-scope of yours and see what?s out there along that vector, particularly what?s at the distant focal point, roughly 1000 light years away?  And I think more importantly, why don?t you see if that point is moving at all, relative to your facility??

?I?ll do just that.  And I?ll give you a call as soon as I find out anything.  I promise.?

The Director cut the connection and looked out at the BIG EYE?s control room; his attention drawn to the large central monitor showing the telescope?s current view.  Magnificent.  Then he walked over to a small window on the far side of the room that allowed him to actually look out at the massive telescope outside.  The BIG EYE had been manufactured on the Moon, using materials naturally occurring on Earth?s satellite, augmented with the metals that became available from an errant asteroid that early lunar inhabitants had lassoed as it passed by, brought down to the surface, and then mined for its riches.  The asteroid was still being mined and utilized by the fabrication facility adjacent to Neil Armstrong Lunar Base, supplying most of its metallic structural needs and also any such material required to augment the BIG EYE project.

The heart of the BIG EYE telescope was its sixty-meter diameter optical mirror, the largest ever constructed.  The entire structure, along with most of Armstrong Base, had taken over five years to build by hundreds of astronauts working in four-month shifts.   Construction finally grinding to a halt, the BIG EYE had finally become operational back in 2028, and then run into problems.  Like the Hubble before it, problems arose that threatened to derail the entire project.  Thompson was proud of his contribution of bringing the device back up to its full potential.  Over those early years, Armstrong Base had grown and thrived, swelling at one time to a revolving population of over a hundred.  Those heady days were over now, the construction phase done, and refurbishment all but complete.  Funding and manpower were needed elsewhere to fuel Mankind?s expansion into the Solar System.  By 2033, the total number of semi-permanent occupants at Armstrong and on the Moon itself, had shrunk to less than twenty; no more than that needed, once the grand endeavor was complete.

Through the small window, Thompson still marveled at the BIG EYE?s gargantuan extent.  It had been able to reach such ambitious dimensions due to the lesser gravity of the Moon and the low incidence of impurities in outer space.  As there was no atmosphere or wind in that vacuum, the telescope?s massive mirror had been fabricated, poured, cooled, and ground to perfection in place, right on its colossal frame.  The focal point of that microscopically polished concave mirror was many hundreds of meters above it, gathering all the secrets the nearly perfectly smoothed lens could shove its way.  It was an engineering marvel, and one that humanity was rightfully very proud of.  And it brought the cosmos, and perhaps time?s very beginnings, to Man?s front door.

The BIG EYE, though resembling nothing in human ocular anatomy, was a beauty, aptly named.  In the lunar night, soft white lights illuminated the unmoving structure?s exterior, its massive bulk stark against a star speckled sky.  A giant, rigid white finger gesturing brazenly to the mysterious universe beyond.

Stationary.

He walked back across the control room and once at its center, turned and looked up at the main monitor screen, to where the finger pointed.  After a few minutes of deep, reflective gazing, he continued on to the door leading to the conference room.  He slowly opened it and reentered the room, where there seemed to be a heated conversation taking place between the gathered scientists.  Thompson didn?t interrupt the argument, which seemed to involve three factions, one supporting seismic gravity waves, one promoting alien intervention, and another championing some Star Wars-like Force for causing the Moon?s recent movements.  He stood looking at the monitor on the conference room?s front wall, which mirrored the much larger one in the control room.  As he waited for the arguments to subside, he concentrated his gaze on the point in the very middle of the screen.  There didn?t seem to be anything visible at that focal point, about one thousand light years away, if Simmons and his grad students were correct.  What had Jack said?  ??nothing, really nothing at all.?  The room grew quiet behind him.

He cleared his throat and raised his hand, briefly gesturing towards the monitor.

?This is a live view of what the BIG EYE telescope is now pointing towards.  Its positioning motors have been shut down now for quite some time, and it is pointing in a constant direction perpendicular to the Moon?s horizon.  Unmoving.  Have any of you noticed any change in this view, any rotation, any motion whatsoever since we shut down the BIG EYE?s motors??

No one said a word.  He turned to face them.

?For almost an hour this screen has not changed.  During that time, the Sun has moved an hour along its orbital path around the Milky Way galaxy center.  The Earth has moved an hour along its orbital path around the Sun, dragging the Moon in its orbit with it.  And the Moon itself seems to have started rotating.  Yet the field of view on this screen has not changed.  Not, I bet, by a micron.  The Moon has been moving, ever so slightly, to keep the stationary BIG EYE pointing in one constant direction.  That direction.?

He raised his hand once again and pointed at the center of the monitor.  He slowly let his arm fall to his side and looked at the assembled scientists and technicians.  After a moment, he continued.

?We don?t know why, or how, but we sure as hell should be able to find out what it is pointing at!  We have the most advanced, the most freaking powerful telescope Mankind has ever developed at our disposal.  So, let?s see what we can squeeze out of her.  Thanks to a couple of newbie doctoral candidates down on Earth, we have the directional vector and we have the approximate distance that we might expect to find something along that path.  They say there?s nothing there at all, but I think they are just teasing us.  I think there is definitely something out there, somewhere out about 1000 light years away.  Let?s get busy figuring out what it is, folks.  And I want this kept quiet!  Not a word leaked to anyone outside this room, and I mean it.  Especially not Earthward.  We don?t want to start any sort of commotion there until we have a good idea what the hell is going on.  We may not know what?s happening yet, but we are going to find out!?

The conference room exploded with a renewed crescendo of scientific babble, with just about everyone talking at once, espousing one theory or another to whomever might want to listen.  In the past he had found it best to leave the scientists to stew, once he had gotten the pot boiling.  Thompson suspected that at times he could be a bit heavy handed in dealing with his subordinates, possibly because he might still be a little insecure in his own position.  Then again, maybe he was constantly overcompensating because he felt like he looked a little bit like the Pillsbury Dough Boy in his way-too-tight jumpsuit.  It also didn?t help his self-image that he was totally bald, most of his hair receding earlier to an oblivion science still could not totally avoid.  As he was preparing to leave, a tall man standing on the far side of the room, a quirky enigma by the name of Samuel Vance, caught his attention.  When they locked gazes, an overabundance of silent communication was exchanged between them in just a few seconds, punctuated by the man arching one eyebrow in a confidential query.  Thompson frowned, shook his head and then turned and exited the conference room.

He wasn?t sure if total disclosure was warranted at this point.

He made his way back across the BIG EYE control room, pausing for only a few moments to once again gaze at the large monitor showing the BIG EYE?s current star-studded field of view.  There was something out there, incredibly distant, incredibly mysterious, and thus incredibly compelling.  He had no idea why something 5,900 trillion miles away was important, but ferreting out such unknowns was the reason the BIG EYE telescope had been designed and built in the first place.  He knew that his freshly motivated team would figure it out, if the answer was within their realm of understanding, or at least if it was anywhere within the scientific realm where they all dwelt.

It was his job to make sure the BIG EYE lived up to all of its hype.

As he walked towards his quarters, he thought about his history with the telescope and the Moon.  He had first been slated to head a yearlong reconditioning phase, as the newly operational BIG EYE, like most government projects, had run into some problems almost immediately upon completion.  Only thirty years old at that time, he had been tagged to fix the problem ahead of many candidates that even he had considered imminently more qualified.  He hadn?t even been in the astronaut program at the time of his appointment.  Yet he had been selected to oversee the renovation, and shortly thereafter, the operation of what was arguably the pinnacle of Mankind?s achievements in space to date.  It was a heavy responsibility for such a young man, and not one he took lightly.  Showing strong operational capabilities to get the trillion-dollar investment back on line in relatively short order, he had ultimately been chosen to become Director of Lunar Operations, presiding over all of Armstrong Lunar Base and thus all human endeavor on the Moon.  He was still Director two years later.  But he still had his doubts, sensing that he was ill prepared for the storm he felt was on its way.  Though he knew his strengths, and had a strong academic pedigree and solid scientific background, he also knew that science could not explain everything.

That raised eyebrow from the tall man standing at the back of the room was testament to that.  Just two months earlier, he and Vance had shared a surreptitious revelation that called into question all scientific conjecture.  Thompson wondered if this latest lunar anomaly would yield a similar manifestation.  He had no doubt that they must be related.

He was a scientist, and a damned good one.  But he also believed that good, solid scientific practice could prove lacking at times.  When it failed, when technology and reason faltered, he was happy that years before he had found that there was yet one more direction for him to turn.  His quarters were some ways distant from the control room, but he had decided to go there while his team toiled at the task he had given them.  He needed the extended interval to reflect on recent happenings.  And as he walked and pondered the latest events, he found himself already, and perhaps prematurely, forming an opinion about the unnamed force that had so firmly grasped the Moon.  He sensed that it wasn?t some unnamed alien influence, or some ambiguous, all-prevalent energy, the likes of which was made famous in the old Star Wars saga.

To his knowledge, and in his experience to date, there was only one force that commanded such power.  As he walked, he let his mind wander back to a time in his life that seemed ages past.  Mirroring humanity?s recent leaps and bounds, he had progressed mightily from the man he had been back then.  Over a decade earlier he had taken up, and then three short years later, discarded his life?s first calling.  On a dime, he had turned his back on the spiritual side of existence and once again focused on the pragmatic.  In the wake of that decision, he had rededicated every ounce of his being to science.  For the most part, and most of the time, that is.  It had been a terrible period for him, yet it had set him on a quest that culminated in his ascension to his current role on the Moon.

But, a promise to himself kept, he had never forgotten.  And slowly, he had come to the realization that there was a synergy between the scientifically observable and the spiritually transcendent.  And ultimately, he had discovered that faith, once found, is not so easily abandoned.  Lately, that revelation had become even more apparent.

Opening and closing the door to his living quarters, he slowly moved to his bedside table.  He pulled the worn Bible from the drawer, and then hesitated.  Thompson had no idea which verse to turn to!  He sighed resignedly and sat heavily on the bed, grasping the book with both of his hands and bowing his head slightly.  Though he prayed every night, and was quite comfortable in his beliefs, he had a feeling that his faith would soon be tested more than it ever had.  Elusive as it was.

Exhaling again, this time more deeply, he thumbed through the pages, and then pulled out a piece of paper that he had placed there some weeks earlier.  In the muted light cast from his bedside lamp he read the names he had written on it.  After a few minutes more he folded the list and placed it in the breast pocket of his dough-boy jumpsuit.  He put the Bible back in the drawer and stood up.

It was time to get busy.

CHAPTER 3

Michael was startled awake by the loud ringing of the cell phone that was resting on his bedside table.  He picked it up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and looked to see who was calling him in the god-awful hours before sunup.  He wasn?t too surprised to see that it was a lunar exchange.  Many of the people working up there, especially those working the various BIG EYE projects, had his number on speed dial.

?Hello.?

?Professor Farber?  It?s Director Thompson calling from Armstrong City on the Moon.  Sorry to bother you so early in your morning.?

Michael was used to calls from his own current lunar project manager, and even the occasional one, like this, from the Director.  He didn?t have any trouble with the delays in the conversation.  Even at this ungodly hour.  Though, since there were only about two and a half hours of full sun this time of year in the latitudes he called home, he really had no idea how early or late it was without consulting a clock.  He turned on his bedside light, knowing that he might as well get up.  Once awakened from a fitful sleep, he was up, no matter what the time.

?That?s ok, I was just about to get up anyway,? he lied.

He swung his pasty white legs around, dangling them off the side of the bed, stretching one arm and then the other, switching hands with the phone as he did so.  Most people would have put the Director on speakerphone, but he hated that, so wouldn?t subject anyone else to it.  He scratched his longish brown hair, noting it felt a bit oily, and decided a good, long hot shower was in his near future.  Rubbing his chin, he realized a shave wouldn?t be such a bad idea, either.

He had been up late the previous evening working on his own current pet computer project.  It had been a good night.  In the wee hours, at around 2:16 AM, AKDT, Alaska Daylight Time, he?d had an epiphany and figured out a way to increase the proficiency of his latest data manipulation program by at least a factor of 1000.  And maybe more; much, much more.  If it panned out, it was a technological advancement that would set the astronomy world on its ear.  He owed his discovery to a parallel project he was currently working on in conjunction with the BIG EYE telescope, so he really had no beef talking to the facility Director, whatever time he chose to call.

?We have a problem up here that I think we could use your expertise on.?

?Does it have anything to do with the Keid exploratory project?  The guys observing that triple star system have been on my case for months trying to up the data throughput.  If so, I think I have great news in that regard.  I may have come up with something one thousand times more efficient!?

?No, that isn?t what I?m calling about, but it sounds like you might have inadvertently come up with exactly what we need.  Is there any way you can come up to the Moon, to Armstrong, right away?  For a very important project??

Michael lifted the bottom of his T-shirt and looked down at the pink incision on his abdomen, still laced shut with nine black stitches.  About ten days earlier, his appendix had decided that it wanted to get the hell out of his body.  Hard to believe that in the year 2033, the medical profession still hadn?t figured out what the appendix really did, why it sometimes became infected, and why it was still easier to yank out than to try and fix.

?I wish I could, but I?m still recovering from a minor operation.  I don?t think my body could stand the G-forces of liftoff.  Still gotta get out of the atmosphere before the IFORD is allowed to kick in.?

?Oh, I?m sorry.  I didn?t even know that you were ill.?

?I?m not, anymore.  Just a little appendicitis.  But I?m fine now, and on the mend.?

?Well, good to hear that.  Though it seems like everyone lately has developed a phobia for the Moon.  Maybe because she?s misbehaving so much.  Ok, so instead of coming here, can I talk you into an all-expense paid vacation down to Houston Space Center?  We really need you.?

Misbehaving?  Michael hadn?t heard anything about the Moon misbehaving.

He looked towards the tiny window in his room, which was totally iced over, the temperature still dipping well below zero in Deadhorse, where he chose to live.  The Alaskan winters were hard, but he loved the summers.  And he had chosen to stay on in the small family homestead after his folks had retired and made their way to Honolulu, refuge to many a former Alaskan.  Late February was definitely still wintertime up on the North Shore.  A little trip South, anywhere South, might not be such a bad idea.

?When do you want me there??

?Yesterday.  But as soon as possible will have to suffice.?

Michael hung up the phone after he had gotten all the particulars for the trip.  He wouldn?t need much time at all to get ready.  He could fit all the clothes he owned into a large suitcase, and since Thompson had said it would probably be a short visit anyway, he didn?t expect he would need everything he had.  He figured a couple pair of jeans, a few shirts, some underwear and socks and he was good to go.  His backpack would more than suffice.

He quickly made up his small bed and began going through his wardrobe for what he would need.  He clicked on the television for some background noise, not really paying attention to it.  The news was all depressing these days.  Damn, he just missed some story about the Moon, which might have explained the Director?s comment about it misbehaving.  But the station had then shifted to the normal, continuing depressing litanies.  The famines in India and throughout most of Africa had not abated, and there was nowhere near enough aid from the fully developed nations to alleviate the hunger.  If someone won the birth lottery and was born in the West or one of the advanced countries in Asia, that person had it made, while a good portion of the rest of the world still starved.  Michael found the situation deplorable, but there was little he could do about it.  He was mildly annoyed with himself for that thought, knowing it was just an excuse, like everyone who won the birth lottery used to rationalize not helping his fellow suffering man.  He turned down the volume when the news shifted to the latest assault on Roe vs. Wade.

Michael didn?t want to ruin his day before it even got started.

He had more important things to worry about, at least to him.  As he packed, he made a mental checklist of things he needed to address.  At some point, he would need to call the scientists doing the Keid star system?s observational study and let them know that he wouldn?t be able to concentrate exclusively on their project anymore.  At least not for a while.  They would be disappointed, but that discontent would be mollified somewhat by the breakthrough he had made the previous night.  The tweaking of his own software would really enhance the images that they were pulling out of the BIG EYE.  Michael wished that he had been able to see what they were doing lately, but a little over two months earlier, sometime just before last Christmas and well before his health took a downturn; they had suddenly become a bit tightlipped.  He thought that maybe they had all extended their holiday breaks, and then forgotten about him when they returned.  But this possible explanation didn?t jive too well with what he had perceived as their mindset at the time.  It had been obvious that they had been really excited about something.  But they didn?t share the reason with him.  Whatever it was, it didn?t stop them from constantly pleading for more powerful data manipulation capabilities over the last couple of months.

He knew the Keid Solar System consisted of three stars, all dwarfs:  a red/orange, a white and a red.  He didn?t think it held much promise for harboring a habitable planet, not with the elliptical dance the three stars played orbiting about one another.  But it certainly was a beautiful system.  He had seen some of the early digital representations that the BIG EYE and his own advanced data manipulation program had made possible, and they were quite spectacular.  The detail had been amazing, to the point that once he had revamped his program about two weeks into the project, they were actually able to see a few planets weaving their way through the triple system.  Shortly after that, his access to the data had suddenly, and inexplicably, been restricted.

Maybe they had somehow managed to find a habitable planet in the system.  If so, his newly conceived three-orders-of-magnitude improvement would be a godsend.  He knew that he wouldn?t hear any complaints from them.  As he packed and got ready to depart for the airport, he made repeated attempts to call the Moon and talk to the Keid project manager, a rather unique gentleman by the name of Samuel Vance.

Unfortunately, his calls went unanswered, and nobody bothered to call him back.  He unknowingly, but correctly deduced that Dr. Vance must have been really busy with something else up there.

It took him exactly five minutes to get packed.  And looking around his room, and then doing a survey of the rest of the small house he called home, he realized that he didn?t really have much of a life.  So much for that mental checklist of things to do before he left.  He didn?t have any pets, and the one and only plant in the house was a dead fern, totally brown, shriveled up in the corner of the tiny living room.  He wouldn?t need to have anyone check on his house while he was gone.  He would just leave the thermostat at about forty degrees Fahrenheit so that he wouldn?t have to worry about pipes freezing, no matter how cold it got outside.

While he waited for Vance, or anyone else on the Moon to call him back, he contacted the airline to confirm that travel arrangements had been made for him.  He thought it a bit presumptuous that Thompson had so easily assumed that he would drop everything and fly to the Moon for him, or at least as far as Houston, but in the end realized that he was only kidding himself.  He could do his computer work from any locale, of course, and he would readily and gladly drop anything and everything for a mysterious adventure.

At the time of Thompson?s call, he was single, completely unattached, and suffering from sunlight deprivation and cabin fever.  A few years earlier, during a particularly dark, frigid winter, as pretty much all Alaskan winters can be described, he had gotten so bat-shit crazy about the endless nights that he had jumped on a plane South, and Westward, darting off to Fiji.  He had always wanted to visit there, loved it from the moment he hit the ground, and ended up spending almost ten months flitting about the islands, going native.

He probably would have stayed there for years, maybe indefinitely, but his mother had gotten ill, and he had flown back to Alaska to help his dad care for her.  His dad needed for him to take over the day to day running of their business in Deadhorse, a local favorite hangout called The Last Drop.  His father had worked the oilfields in Prudhoe Bay for years, and had been constantly thirsty, due to the oil companies? prohibition on alcoholic beverages in the whole district.  In 2020, after numerous years of lobbying, lightly greasing the appropriate palms, assurances of constant oversight, and promises of limiting consumption, the elder Farber had finally managed to get the oil companies? tentative approval for a small, limited-distribution, liquor-selling establishment.  With that blessing, he had then been able to wrangle a probationary alcohol permit from the State of Alaska, which pretty much agreed to whatever the oil companies requested.  Of course, the Alaskan government had mandated that members of the local Eskimo population were to be prohibited from entering the establishment at any time, acquiescing to fears voiced by Inuit tribal elders that such a place might interfere with their rigid beliefs or tarnish their heritage.

The Last Drop became a booming success overnight, being the only bar within 400 miles of the Alaskan Arctic Circle.  It was a gold mine, even with the strict limits on permissible quantities that his dad set, as per his agreement with the oil companies.  And once up and running, the probationary permit became de facto permanent.  Alaska would have had a major revolt on their hands had they even thought about revoking The Last Drop?s operating license.  The local Inuit villages would have vigorously joined the uprising, their members having quickly become the most consistent, and staunchest, regulars of The Last Drop.  His father?s monthly reports to Juneau always included a statement that he hadn?t served a single drop of alcohol to any Eskimos during that time period.  The local Inuits would have been totally offended at being called Eskimos, which roughly translated to ?eaters of raw meat? and was considered quite derogatory.  ?A rose by any other name?,? Michael?s father had rationalized, figuring he was keeping the peace, and not really even lying, at least, not much.

Once his mom had finally recovered from her bout with pneumonia, his parents decided that they?d had enough.  They had thanked Michael for his support, sold The Last Drop for an astronomical sum to a consortium of anonymous Inuit tribal leaders and retiring roughnecks, and then had given him their old small home overlooking the Arctic Ocean.  Then they left the North Shore for good.  Their new place in Hawaii, with its view of the Pacific, was heavenly.  And for various reasons, the good son stayed at the old homestead, with only dreams of Fiji to warm him during those long, frozen Alaskan winters.

Michael wouldn?t mind a trip to warmer climes, at all.

CHAPTER 4

As usual, the flight from Deadhorse to Fairbanks was more than a little bit exciting.  That was to be expected, especially in the dying days of winter, with a major snowstorm battering the West coast of the state, and quickly spilling into its interior.  And considering that he wasn?t too fond of flying, and with no god to pray to, he had to suffer the bumps and shudders without any help or comfort from above.

At times like these, Michael wished his parents had been more religious, or had at least fostered some sort of spirituality in his life.  They had both started out Jewish, and during his early years had begun raising him as such.  But their faith, along with his, had been worn down by the brutal realities of the world.  In the end, he became as pragmatic, and thus as agnostic, as they.  At least he, like them, had agreed that something, some greater force, had to have gotten the Big Bang a banging.  But he was sure that it must have been a one-shot, then gone sort of thing.  The possibility of an all-powerful being remaining to watch over them just seemed far-fetched to him.  Later in life he became convinced of that reality.  God remained some ambiguous, undefined and un-named concept that he really had no use for, except maybe when he was doing something totally insane, like flying.  Or, he supposed he might, if he had ever found himself in a foxhole with bullets whizzing overhead.

But sometimes a higher power does seem to intervene.  And maybe some guiding hand reached out and helped him, allowing the flight he was on to barely squeak into the old dual-use Fairbanks International Airport/Air Force Base in Eilson, Alaska, just minutes before weather had forced its closure.  Unfortunately, that was apparently as far as any divine intervention would go on his behalf, as he then had to wait two full days for the weather to clear before he could continue his journey down to Seattle.  After a quick aircraft and airline change there, he was off to Denver, where he had to suffer yet another airplane and airline change.

Michael was dog-tired and a bit cranky by the time he boarded the American Airlines flight out of the Mile-High City bound for Texas.  Exhausted, he plopped down into the second-row aisle seat on the Captain?s side of the aircraft, thankful he didn?t have to work his way to the back of the plane.  Nor would he have to trudge along behind everyone debarking as they fought to get their luggage from the overheads once he got to Houston.  He had been pleasantly surprised to find out that Thompson had arranged First Class seats for almost his entire journey.  Probably meant that he wanted Michael to get some rest on the flights, as he was going to have to go right to work on whatever the Director needed as soon as he arrived.  He chuckled at that.  In reality, he would never complain about the work that the BIG EYE facility had allowed him to get involved with.  It was a dream job as far as he was concerned.  He just wished he were privier to the discoveries he knew they surely must have been making.

He watched the other passengers file past him during the rest of the boarding process, not really paying much attention until a very pregnant woman walked by.  As she passed, she looked down at him and smiled.  That just made him think of Claire, an old girlfriend the woman favored somewhat, but not in a happy way.  Already worn out and a bit irritated, he somehow managed to smile back, but it was insincere, at best.  His gaze dropped to her distended abdomen, but that only made it worse.  He caught his breath, momentarily finding himself overcome by emotion.  Ah, what could, should have been.  Closing his eyes, he willed the black cloud suddenly growing around him to recede.  He didn't need to fall into that dark abyss again, knowing full well that many more decades would still need to pass before he forgot, or at least had a chance to heal.  If he ever could, that is.

Finally, there was a break in the line of people getting onto the plane.  In that interval, he asked the pretty flight attendant for a little brown liquor and then settled into his seat while she complied with his request.  She was back in a minute, and as he took his first sip he glanced over his right shoulder, surveying his surroundings.  He was surprised to see an attractive, raven-haired beauty smiling at him.  Her soft features, an exotic mix of maybe North African and Arabian ancestries, got his heart pounding, despite the calming effects of the alcohol burning his throat and warming his belly.  She reminded him of the young heroines that frequented those old, feature-length animated Disney cartoon classics.  He knew without seeing that she had a perfect figure and long, perfect legs tucked up under the seat in front of her.

?Ladies and gentlemen, the boarding door is now closed.  At this time, please be seated and make sure your seatbelt is securely fastened, your carry-ons are placed under the seat in front of you or in the overhead above you, and that??

Like everyone else on the large turbojet, Michael didn?t really listen to what the flight attendant was saying over the PA.  For just a moment he hesitated, a faint, past reminiscence throwing up warning flags.  He pushed back the little voices of his memory, unbuckled his seatbelt, and quickly made his way back to where the smiling woman was seated.  The seat next to her, adjacent to the window, was open, so he squeezed past her and plopped down as the plane began to move.

?Sir, please take your seat!?

He barely glanced up at the woman standing in front of the cockpit door, glaring at him.  He had no more use for her than he did for the other flight attendant on the PA system making the pre-departure announcements that no one paid attention to, anyway.  The first-class flight attendant quickly lost interest in him, making frantic preparations for a quick takeoff.  Denver International was a big, busy airport, but they must have anticipated a shorter taxi than usual.  Still, she finished putting away her serving carts and securing the rest of the galley in no time at all, and soon got busy looking in the bag at her feet for the People magazine she planned to read during climb-out.  As Michael buckled up and settled into his new seat, the pilot got on the PA to lend his own soliloquy to the ignored pre-takeoff announcements.  Who really cared how high they were going to be climbing?

?Hi, Monique,? he said, looking at the woman he had broken so many unenforced Federal Aviation Administration regulations to sit next to.

?Hi, Mike,? she said, using the shortened version of his name that he hated anyone else using.

?So, what?s got you traveling to Houston??

?I would imagine the same thing as you.?

?You?re taking in an Astros? doubleheader, too??

?Yeah right.  I?m sure that you got a late-night phone call from Thompson recently, just like I did.?

She smiled at him, and he melted.  Like he always had.

They had met a couple years previously, at the same Mr. Thompson?s behest, at the beginning of a massive reconditioning of the BIG EYE telescope and its operating system.  Dr. Monique Nader?s specialty was optics, and just a year previously she had made a breakthrough on a polymer coating for the EYE?s finely polished lens that had made its imagery 100 times more refined.  At about the same time, he had come up with a software refinement to the system?s operating system that had compressed the streaming data almost a thousand-fold.  Now, he found himself excited to tell her about his latest thousand-fold breakthrough, but was intoxicated by her beauty, and didn?t want to turn her off by his boasting.  He hoped the mild flirtation they had shared at that first meeting would blossom to more.

?I did,? he confessed.  ?He called me a few days ago, but I was delayed.  The Alaskan climate can make flying a bitch.?

?So I understand.?

Michael grimaced.  After their first meeting, he had promised to come and see her down in Los Angeles, but he had never made it.  They had initially made firm plans for him to visit in November that year, but a massive snowstorm had trapped him in Deadhorse for over a week.  When the weather had finally cleared, she seemed to have lost interest, so he had cancelled the trip, and never really made the effort to reschedule.  And she had never offered to come up to the North Shore.

Couldn?t blame her for that.

?What?s going on?  Have they made a discovery out in the Keid system?  That was the project I was working on when Thompson called me.  He wanted me to go to the Moon, but I?m not quite fit enough for that.?

?Not that I know of.  I think it has something to do with the BIG EYE and its resolution.  Though it might have something to do with the latest brouhaha about the Moon starting to rotate.  He just said it was important for me to get as far as Houston, at least.  He said he would pay, and nicely, so after I tied up a few loose ends, I came.  By the way, you look pretty fit to me.?

Hmmm, she was still smiling.  The irises in her almond shaped eyes were almost black, her complexion flawless.  And the perfectly manicured nails on her slender fingers were gently scratching the hairs on his left forearm.  Maybe the ice had thawed over the last couple of years?

?Hah!  Not really.  I had my appendix taken out a couple of weeks ago.  A launch would not have been good for me.  What about you, though?  Why aren?t you already on your way to the Moon?  I?m sure Thompson wanted you up there, if he wanted me.?

?Yeah, well I get nauseous when I fly, so I had to decline.  I would like to say that it?s motion sickness, but it has more to do with an ?apprehension of flight.?  Or in layman?s terms, being petrified of flying.  Haven?t you noticed my little collection here?  No doubt they are the reason for the silly grin I was flashing at you before takeoff.?

He looked down at the pouch in the seat-back in front of her.  There were three empty mini vodka bottles tucked into the seam of the seat she faced.  He was impressed with her efforts, though he didn?t share his own trepidation of flying with her, wanting to maintain his macho image.  Yeah, right.  He signaled for another round from the flight attendant, who had just put down her magazine and stood as the airplane reached its final cruising altitude.  He needed a few more minis of brown liquor to catch up with his new traveling companion.  He looked over at her and tilted his head in the direction of the empties.

?Aren?t you a Muslim??

?I won?t tell if you won?t.?

?Not a word,? he paused, putting a finger up to seal his lips shut.  ?And you might be right about the Moon?s sudden rotation being the reason for our requested presence up there.  I haven?t had a chance to see much relevant information on the causes, and the Internet is strangely quiet about it.  The mainstream media stopped chattering about it almost as soon as it happened.  Not sexy enough, I suppose.?

?No, unless somebody is dying, or some politician is stupidly opening their mouth and taking a firm position on anything, they lose interest in things pretty fast.  I?m sure Thompson will solve the mystery of our summoning as soon as we get to Houston.?

?I agree.  But neither one of us could make the trip to the Moon.  That must?ve been very disappointing for the Director.?

?Probably so.  And I know of yet another disappointment for him.  Professor Singh will likewise be joining us in Houston, as he too was summoned, but unable to go to the Moon.  His ears are very sensitive to pressure changes.  Flying in airplanes is bad enough, so a trip into outer space was out of the question.?

?Singh?  Where do I know that name from??

?He?s the theoretical astrophysicist from Cambridge that?s been shaking up our understanding of the origins of the universe.  He?s been nominated for the Nobel Prize in physics this year.?

?That?s right!  Dr. Salman Singh.  He?s been doing groundbreaking research on black holes and how they figure into the whole scheme of things, right?  Because of his work, his group of physicists and astronomers out of MIT was finally able to theoretically calculate the location of an undiscovered black hole.  And surprise, surprise, when the BIG EYE was pointed at the postulated position, they actually found one.  That was an absolutely amazing accomplishment!  They?ve been hogging a lot of the BIG EYE?s time lately, much to the chagrin of the group of astronomers that I have been assisting.  How far out was the black hole that Singh?s group discovered?  Pretty close, wasn?t it?about 100 light years??

?Yes, I think so.  It made quite a splash in the news.?

?So, is that why Thompson tried to get us all to the Moon, and failing that, wants us to congregate in Texas??

?Beats me.  I got that call from Thompson about the same time you did.  And then I got a call from Ram the next day saying that he too had been invited to the Moon, had declined, but was going to go to Houston.?

?Who is Ram??

?Oh, that is what Professor Singh insists he be called.  Some sort of nickname he got growing up in India.?

?Ram, hmmm.  Why did ?Ram? think to call you??

?Well, he and I became acquainted about a year ago at a conference over in London.  He?s my age, a real genius, and though our studies are in different disciplines, we hit it off.  We?ve kept in touch ever since, and have even been able to see one another on a fairly regular basis.?

?I see.  It certainly sounds like that would require a lot of in-the-air time for folks suffering from pressure sensitivity and an apprehension of flying.?

?Humph.  Maybe so, but at least he was willing to make the effort.?

Michael grew uncomfortable with the turn his conversation with Monique had abruptly taken.  Not to mention the coolness that now lay behind her accompanying gaze.  The laughter in those eyes had definitely vanished, replaced with a frosty, icy edge.  He found himself regretting changing seats just before takeoff.  Michael was suddenly reminded of Monique?s tendency to be rather passionate, for lack of a better word, at times.  He avoided using the word bi-polar, as he had not really spent enough time with her to such a make a firm, possibly derogatory, diagnosis.  Besides, he was a doctor of computer science, and not psychology.  Even with their limited contact years previously, he had had quickly realized that still waters ran deep in her.  Beautiful, to be sure, but something about Hell and a woman scorned kept crowding into his thoughts.

?Er, yeah, I suppose.  Well, failing a lunar rotation connection, I bet our summons has something to do with black holes, and the observation of such.  That seems to be the only common denominator.  You bring your expertise with the hardware side of the BIG EYE to the table, and I bring mine with the software.  Both of which should greatly enhance the telescope?s ability to study one of the most exciting discoveries in a millennium, courtesy of Professor Singh.?

?Makes sense.  But I wonder why they wanted us on the Moon?  Or even in Houston for that matter.  All of us could just as easily have continued our contributions from our respective laboratories and research centers.?

?Sometimes it is best to have the players actually present.?

?Indeed,? she said, the inflection in her single word response speaking volumes.

What?  He glanced at Monique, but quickly looked away.  What had he said?  Michael could sense the subdued fury in Monique?s tone.  Something that must have been smoldering for quite some time.  Like two years.  In that moment he vowed to never again ignore those little warning voices.  Uncomfortable, he looked up and thankfully caught the eye of the stewardess, who had just happened to glance up from reading her People magazine.  He gave her a lame smile, holding up two fingers and one of the empty mini-bottles.  She nodded, stood up from the jump seat, and moved into the galley to retrieve their drinks.  He slid further back into his seat, pushing the little button to get it tilted back as far as possible.  Not far enough.  He pointedly refrained from looking at Monique any longer, whom he could sense was still considering him.  He could almost feel the heat emanating from the woman beside him, leaving him awash in the dichotomy of the moment!  Just seconds ago, it had been a cool aloofness, and a frosty glare that had made his throat suddenly parched.  Now he was sure that his poor limb resting on the armrest between them was blistering.

Michael pulled a headset out of his pocket and plugged it into the monitor in the seatback in front of him, just above his growing collection of empty minis.  After browsing through the latest lame offerings from Hollywood, he settled on a news channel to help pass the time.  What better way to deflect Monique?s wrath than to pretend he was interested in the near total obliteration of the South American rain forests, or the plight of the manmade plastic refuse island in the Pacific that had grown to nearly Cuba-sized proportions.  Then there was the extinction of the rhinos, both black and white, and the blue whale to cheer him up.  Mankind wasn?t any kinder to the planet than he was to his fellow man.  Michael hoped that the human race wasn?t being graded on how they continued to treat both the planet and their fellow man.

When the flight attendant brought them their drinks, he downed his in a couple of quick gulps.  And then he immediately gave a slight nod to the stew that he needed yet another couple.  Her disapproving glance was further confirmation that you didn?t really want to mess with a woman?s desires.  No doubt he was keeping her from a juicy story about some Hollywood starlet, and she was not too happy about it.

He just had that winning way with women.

CHAPTER 5

Upon arrival in Houston, and after waiting for Monique?s three large pieces of luggage, a fate Michael had thought he was going to avoid with only his backpack to contend with, they headed for the exits.  A limousine picked them up right outside baggage claim and whisked them towards the Hilton, located immediately adjacent to the Johnson Space Center.  There was little conversation during the drive along NASA Parkway, other than a quick snide comment from Monique about his lack of any baggage.  He decided to keep mum his somewhat unfair thoughts about some women?s propensity to pack everything they owned for a weekend jaunt.  He realized that even such a thought would have been considered sexist in the modern era.  Instead, he looked out at some ski-boats traveling parallel to the roadway out on Clear Lake.

He wished he were on one of them, enjoying the salt spray and sunshine.  It wasn?t that hot in Houston, but it was a damn sight warmer than Deadhorse.  Watching the boats scooting along, rooster tails of foamy spray churning behind them, he contemplated reconsidering his current geographic choice of residency.  Doesn?t white foam beat the hell out of white snow?  In short order, the car pulled up in front of the Hilton and they got out.  He began helping Monique pull her bags out of the trunk, until the doorman came over and relieved him of that responsibility.  Michael slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed Monique and the doorman through the doors to the front desk.

?Monique!?

No sooner had they entered the hotel lobby than a short, slight dark man called out his traveling companion?s name and rushed over to give her a big hug.  She returned his embrace with seemingly equal vigor, and then proceeded to plant a lingering kiss on the man?s lips.  She gave Michael a sideways glance when they finally disengaged.  The short man, obviously, but pleasantly surprised by Monique?s public display of affection, turned his attention on him.  The man?s crisp British accent rung out in the lobby.

?Hello, please forgive me.  I?m just so pleased to see my Monique that I forgot my manners.  I don?t think we have had the pleasure.  I?m Singh, Professor Salman Singh, at your service.?

My Monique?

Michael shook the extended hand, and then adjusted the backpack, which had begun to slip from his shoulders.  Professor Singh was impeccably dressed, right down to the bright blue pocket square jutting out of his blazer?s left breast pocket.  Dusky skinned, with almost delicate features, Michael guessed he was of Indian heritage, with dark eyes and a bright smile.  There was even the hint of some exotic aftershave in the air.  The entire picture would have been complete if he would only pull a monocle on a chain from his other breast pocket and then fire up an ivory pipe.  The man?s blunt gaze was quickly and easily mollified by his infectious smile.  He found himself smiling back, despite the trepidations that the man?s lingering kiss with Monique had stirred in him.  Nor was Michael particularly happy when the smaller man grasped her hand as soon as he stopped shaking his.

?Hi, I?m Michael Farber.  And I can easily understand and forgive your distraction.  Monique is a hard one to ignore.?

?Glad to meet you, Michael.  What brings you to our little party.  Wait, are you the Doctor Farber that has made such gigantic strides in data manipulations of late?  You are, aren?t you!  Please forgive me for not immediately recognizing your name.?

?Yes, that?s me.  But no big deal, Professor Singh.  We?ve never met before and I?m not so much in the limelight with my discoveries as you have been.  Black holes are much sexier than bytes and bits.  I?m sure Dr. Nader would agree.?

?Ah, but your work is what has allowed my work to be validated, and made my discoveries possible.  It is an honor.  And please call me Ram, a nickname my brothers gave me as a child.  All my friends do.?

The man bowed, and Michael quickly returned the gesture.  Monique stood quietly beside the two men, a slight smile on her lips.  She had obviously enjoyed the subtle, but quick little ripostes between the two men, each glancing at her throughout the exchange.  She enjoyed being the object of the two men?s attentions, even when she wasn?t.  Couldn?t she acquiesce that their expressed admiration for one another?s work might have actually been genuine, and not feigned respect meant to bolster themselves in her eyes?  Yeah, right.

?The proof of your theories on black holes through direct observation by the BIG EYE has been nothing short of miraculous.  Where is that singularity that you and your team have been studying?  In Virgo??

?Why, yes!  It is in the general direction of Spica, but less than half as far away.   That binary star is about 262 light years away, while our anomaly is right at 100.?

?I don?t think I have seen any visuals of how the black hole represents.  Is that why we have all been called to Houston?  Are they trying to get a more refined view of exactly what the singularity looks like?  I might have something that will help.?

?Really, I?d??

?Come on, you two.  Enough shop talk, already.  I need to freshen up after my long day of flying, and Mike could definitely use a shower, having come all the way from Alaska.?

After her interruption, the two men followed Monique to the lobby desk where all three quickly discovered that there wouldn?t be too much time to waste.  At check-in, the receptionist handed each of the scientists an envelope bearing their name.  Their respective envelopes contained a note with a quick little personalized welcome, and then requested their presence out at the Space Center at 9 PM that evening.  That was in less than three hours.  Michael gave a little groan, immediately regretting the small army of minis he had vanquished on the flight from Denver to Houston.

?These just came in for all of you.  And I have one here for a Professor C. Kam.  We have a reservation for a Dr. Kam, presumably one in the same, but that party has not yet checked in.  Perhaps one of you knows him??

?I don?t recognize the name,? said Singh, and both the other scientists shook their heads negatively, as well.

?I?ve never heard of him,? said Michael, verbally reinforcing his negative gesture.

?Her.?

The voice was behind them.  They all turned as one to see a slight woman standing just a few feet from where they stood.  The young Asian, quite unassuming on first glance, on closer inspection was one of the most beautiful women that Michael had ever seen.  He found himself immediately tumbling into the deep, dark wells of her black, gold-flecked irises.  He imagined a similar effect on Singh, and maybe even on Monique, as all three had been rendered totally silent.  Her eyes were disturbingly familiar, and she kept them locked on his for more than what he thought socially customary.  Throughout the ensuing conversation, she seemed to focus most of her attention on Michael, as though trying to unravel a mystery.

?I?m Professor Charlene Kam.  I?m a fellow out at the University of Houston, specializing in communication and communicative disorders, with a specialty in linguistics.  And I have no idea why Director Derek Thompson has requested my presence.?

?Somehow, I don?t think this will help, any more than the notes each of us received.  But you never know.?

Singh handed her the envelope that the receptionist had given to him a minute earlier.  She opened her envelope, glanced down at the folded piece of paper it contained, and then looked up at the three of them.

?Nothing earthshattering, as you predicted.  Perhaps everything will become clear during our meeting at the Space Center.?

?We can only hope,? said Monique.  ?Look, we have less than three hours before the meeting, and I?d like to get something to eat before we leave the hotel.?

?Let?s all go grab a shower or whatever and then meet back down here for a quick bite.?

?I live with my parents about an hour from here, and am plenty fresh enough.  They bought a home for me on the outskirts of Houston, so that I could concentrate on my studies.  And a few years ago, they moved here from Shanghai, and then into my house, so that I could better take care of them in their declining years.  Director Thompson thought it best that I retain a room here at the Hilton, so that we might all be sequestered in the same location.  I don?t need to take a shower, nor to even go to my room.  However, a meal would probably be a good idea, as we have no idea how long this meeting tonight might last.?

Agreeing to the plan of action, Monique and Michael grabbed their keys and departed for their rooms.  Dr. Kam made short work of registering at the front desk, and surrendered her single piece of luggage to the bellhop for delivery to her room.  As she had indicated earlier, she didn?t feel it necessary to accompany the bag.  Singh eagerly volunteered to stay behind and keep Charlene company while they waited for the other two weary travelers to return.

He had checked into the hotel earlier, having not had so far to travel.  And in his own words, he was already all showered up and ready to go.  Michael was happy that the gaze Monique leveled at Singh as they left the lobby had not been focused on him.  He thought that perhaps Monique felt that Ram had been a little too quick offering to take care of the vibrant Dr. Charlene Kam.  He chuckled to himself as they entered the elevator, careful to not vocalize his thoughts in any way.

Monique didn?t say a word.

CHAPTER 6

The limousine they boarded later that evening was large, with plenty of room for the four scientists to relax and enjoy the short ride to the Space Center.  There wasn?t much conversation, perhaps because they were all talked out from the dinner they had just shared.  Luckily, the restaurant at the Hilton had an extensive menu, totally capable of providing cuisine encompassing the many varied cultures represented by the scientists.

They had all had burgers and beer.

And had talked nonstop from the moment they entered the restaurant until the last drop of beer was gone.  It was mostly shoptalk; with a lot of speculation on the reason they had all been asked to participate in Thompson?s mysterious undertaking.  Of course, the major topic was the peculiar behavior of the Moon of late.  Theories abounded as to why it might have started rotating, but no evidence had been found to bolster any of them.  The general consensus was that they had been summoned to the Moon for an entirely different reason, as they all dealt with more far-reaching fields of study.

But no one could figure out how Professor Kam could possibly fit into any picture they could imagine.  Thompson had arranged for her to stay at the Hilton with the other scientists, for easier access to the Space Center, and she figured that he had also wanted to keep better tabs on all of them.  She had no complaints about the hotel.  Her room was located on the same floor as Monique?s, right next door, while the men were two floors above them.  Everyone found it funny that none of them had been able to make it to the Moon, probably much to the consternation of the Director.  But since he had chosen to keep his reasons for their leaving the safety of Earth secret, none of them were too concerned with any dismay they might have caused him.

They arrived at Space Center Houston in short order and piled out of the limo onto the pavement in front of the visitor center.  The silence of the limo ride was broken and the four scientists began conversing in earnest once again, perhaps just nervous energy finding an outlet.  Ram took the lead in the conversation, explaining some of the history of the facility to the other scientists, Professor Kam particularly interested.  This was somewhat amusing, as she was more local than any of them, but had never been to the sprawling center before.  A waiting attendant escorted them to the tram that normally whisked tourists all about Johnson Space Center, but at the late hour it was at their disposal.  The tram quickly took them to Building 40 South, where the Lunar Control Center was located.  The attendant got off first and ushered them into the building, using his key card to gain access.  He gave each of them a similar card, with a lanyard to wear about their neck.

At precisely 9 PM, the four finally entered the still bustling nerve center for lunar activities.  They all stopped in their tracks, awed by the cavernous room.  Row after row of manned computer stations sloped down to the far wall, the individual monitors at each desk full of constantly changing data.  The scientists gawked at the three massive screens on the far wall.  The huge center monitor showed a panoramic view of the lunar surface, the BIG EYE in the foreground, with the manned lunar colony behind.  Gray, pockmarked desolation lay beyond.  It was beautiful.  To the right of the main screen, and just slightly smaller, was a monitor filled with a magnificent star-studded view of the sky, presumably what the BIG EYE was currently focused upon.  The screen to the left was blank, with some technicians perched on a tall portable cherry picker, apparently doing some sort of maintenance on it.

?Stunning,? said Charlene, her hand inadvertently reaching up to lightly grasp Ram?s elbow.  Mutterings of agreement came from the other scientists, even though this was not the first time the rest had been in that particular room.  The poignant view of man?s presence on another world, the pinnacle of man?s achievement to date, was awe-inspiring.  And the images brought close by the BIG EYE were always captivating; no matter how often you had witnessed them.  They grew silent, taking it all in.

A thin black man approached their group, clipboard under his arm, hand extended.  There was a rather large scar high up on his forehead that disappeared into his already receding hairline.  The almost white, X-shaped mark was quite pronounced, and surely the result of some grievous injury he had suffered many years in the past.  The scar didn?t distract from the huge smile he had on his face; the man genuinely happy to greet the four scientists.

?Hello, welcome to the Lunar Control Center.  I?m Tony Brooks, mission control supervisor.?

Introductions were made all around, with each of the scientists giving a very brief bio so that Brooks could identify to whom he was speaking, and why.  Though none of them had any idea as to the why, themselves.  Michael voiced that very question.

?Do you have any idea why Thompson wanted us here??

In response, Brooks tentatively held up his hand and then turned from them and looked toward the dark monitor on the left side of the far wall.  He placed his clipboard on a nearby desk, took a small black walkie-talkie from his belt, and spoke into it.

?Porter, how?s it looking up there??

They could see one of the technicians on the cherry picker take a matching device from his belt and speak into it.  At the same time, the other technician held up his hand and gave them a thumbs up.  He closed a recessed access panel next to the screen, which was beginning to flicker to life.

?All good up here, boss.  Power surge of some kind caused a breaker to pop.  We reset it, and it looks like the monitor is coming back to life now.?

The crackling response coming from the walkie-talkie was loud enough for them all to hear.

?Thanks, good work.?

Brooks turned back to the scientists and put the walkie-talkie back on his belt.  He grabbed his clipboard and motioned for them to follow him to a nearby station, one without a chair in front of it.  Michael noticed that there was a camera above the desktop screen, and a microphone on the desk itself.  Brooks leaned over and punched a few buttons and then stepped back.  He raised his eyebrows at Michael, and then asked the assembled scientists to look into the camera as he joined them in front of the desk station.  They could hear a series of tones as the communication system dialed an eleven-digit number.  The sound of the dialing was broadcast to the entire room, causing all of the personnel manning the stations to stop their normal tasks.  The once dark, left hand screen on the far wall flickered to life, showing a smiling man and a bright control room behind him.  It was BIG EYE?s Director, Derek Thompson.

?Hello everyone, could I have your attention, please.?

Michael looked over at Brooks, who shrugged his shoulders.  Whatever was happening was big.  Really big.  He turned his attention to the large screen on the wall opposite where he stood, well aware that the workstation?s camera was trained on him and his fellow scientists.  The director was still speaking.

?I?m sure that all of you are already aware of the momentous events of late, but let me bring all of you up to speed on what we have learned so far.  Early last Sunday morning, at exactly 03:16 LST, the Moon suddenly began to move of its own volition, to slowly rotate, for all intents and purposes.  The first movement was sudden, dramatic, and inexplicable.  And remains such today.  After that large initial swing, the Moon has settled into a slow rotation on an axis that no longer keeps one hemisphere continuously facing the Earth.  That movement has obviously affected our work here at the BIG EYE complex.  Ultimately, we had to power down the BIG EYE telescope from its then current tasking in the direction of the Keid star system, which has subsequently dropped below the lunar horizon.  Ever since that time, the telescope has remained unpowered and has been pointing straight up, directly perpendicular to the Moon?s horizon.  And some unknown force has been constantly repositioning the Moon?  Yes, I said the Moon, itself.  And keeping the stationary BIG EYE telescope pointed at a region of space roughly 1000 light years from here, in the direction of the upper limb of the constellation Pisces.?

At this point the Director stopped speaking to let his audience realize and absorb the implications of this information.  Michael was surprised to feel Monique?s hand tentatively seek and then grasp his.  Slowly but surely the enormity of the Director?s words sunk in, and a general hubbub of voices filled the large room.  And then everyone was talking at once, some almost yelling to be heard.  That din ultimately subsided and every set of eyes in the mission control room returned their focus on the television screen holding the Director?s face.

?Yes.  I am sure that all of you have come to the same conclusion.  That such an occurrence is impossible.  And you are all right.  It is totally impossible; or at least it would be without some outside force, some intervention that is well beyond Mankind?s current capabilities.  We do not know what that force is, yet.  We only know that it exists.  We don?t know why that force has taken over the Moon?s movement, either.  But in the last few days, here at the BIG EYE complex, we have at least identified what lay at that point 1000 light years away.  It is the third, and by far the largest, black hole discovered to date by the BIG EYE.?

The Director paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, and then continued.

?Yes, I did say the third black hole, which I will elaborate on soon.  In the meantime, let me say that I have asked some of the world?s most esteemed scientists and revolutionary thinkers to join me here on the Moon to discover the root cause of this phenomenon and to further glean its implications.  Unfortunately, only one of the invitees was able to actually make the journey up here.  And he didn?t have to travel to the Moon at all, as he was already here.?

The Director paused for a moment, looking to his left and motioning for someone to join him on camera.  Michael looked over at Ram who had his now familiar smile in place, though he wasn?t sure if he was smiling at Thompson?s words or at the hand that continued to gently grasp his elbow.  Professor Kam still seemed to be in awe of the Lunar Control Center and the activity that was swirling about.  He smiled as well, and turned his attention back to Thompson, on the left screen.

?Let me introduce him first.  Many of you may already know him for his recent work on the Keid Star System project here at the lunar BIG EYE site, or perhaps for his past research into extraterrestrial life in our galaxy, or maybe even for his pioneering work in quantum physics.  Regardless, let me present Dr. Samuel Vance.?

At that point, Director Thompson moved from the left-hand screen?s field of view and his face was replaced by one of the most striking visages that Michael had ever seen.  Of course, he had seen it many times before, but it never failed to bring pause.  He was totally familiar with Dr. Vance, having dealt with him on many occasions during his involvement with the Keid project.  But the man?s appearance could only be described as unique.  Vance had corn-silky white hair, almost rosy pink skin, and eyes as bright blue as a summer?s day.  If he had been born with pink eyes, the world would have labeled him an albino.  But those piercing blue orbs of his set him apart from any such mundane classification.

?Thank you, Director Thompson.  As the Director noted, it was not too tough for me to travel to the Moon for these astounding events when they began, as I was already here working on the Keid observation project.  But before I get into all of that, I would like to at least introduce my colleagues, those who couldn?t make the journey to the Moon, but at least made it as far as Houston.  Director, please let me know if I mix up the names.?

The right-hand screen on the far wall flickered and the star field dissolved, quickly replaced with the live feed of the four of them standing in their corner of the control room.  Michael was immediately uncomfortable seeing himself up on that monitor, as was Charlene, he noticed.  Ram was nonplussed, flashing his signature, winning smile and Monique just looked beautiful, as usual.  Overcoming an awkward fear that he might be expected to say something, Michael realized that Vance was still talking.

?From left to right on your screen let me introduce Doctors Charlene Kam, Salman Singh, Monique Nader and Michael Farber.  I?m of course familiar with Dr. Farber, due to our recent work with the Keid system.  Hello, Michael.  How are you?  Please forgive me for excluding you from some of our progress of late.  The reason for that will shortly become clear.?

?Hello, Samuel,? Michael said, his voice on the PA surprising him somewhat into silence.  Which was good, considering the 2.6-second transmission delay.  Vance was already speaking again.

?While this newest development with the Moon is extraordinary, it is perhaps matched by what has been happening with our observations in the direction of the Keid system of late.   You see, as Director Thompson just indicated, this black hole, out at a thousand light years or so, is the third such anomaly discovered by the BIG EYE.  Yes, the third.  Of course, the first singularity was 100 light years away, and everyone here is familiar with Dr. Singh?s pioneering work concerning the discovery of that one.  But most of you, at least those of you on Earth, are probably unaware that there was a second black hole discovered just recently, this one only slightly off the direct vector to the Keid system.  This second singularity is approximately 16.5 light years away.  Still, we would never have discovered it except that about ten weeks ago, just before Christmas last year, the BIG EYE suddenly clicked one and a half degrees off its commanded azimuth and one degree off its elevation, to bring the singularity to our attention.  We kept this aberration to ourselves, not wanting everyone to start wondering why the main component of this trillion-dollar facility was misbehaving.  Now let me be perfectly clear about the BIG EYE?s movement back then.  It was not commanded by anyone on my team or anyone here at the lunar facility.  As a matter of fact, we have not been able to determine how, or why, the telescope suddenly slewed to show us that second black hole.  At first, we suspected a software problem, possibly a hack, but we have not been able to confirm either.  Ultimately, at the time, we tried to convince ourselves that the discovery of the second black hole along the vector defined by that unexplained movement was just coincidence, a fluke of fate.  But now, with this latest development, we believe that both incidents are somehow related.?

The room once again erupted in a general din, which Dr. Vance let run its course before he resumed speaking.  As the room quieted, his striking blue eyes seemed not to just gaze generally out, but to focus on each individual present in the control room.

?In light of the subsequent rotation of the Moon itself, this prior un-commanded movement of a mere, albeit quite large, telescope seems trivial.  Most of you knew that the Keid observation project had been put on hold as we investigated some new object, and Michael, I?m sorry you were kept in the dark as to what was happening.  But that was unavoidable.  The time for secrecy is drawing to a close, especially since most of the population of Earth has already discovered that the Moon has begun rotating.  What we have subsequently learned, in regards to the discovery of that second singularity, is that it has what we consider synergistic elements with the Moon?s current behavior.   My esteemed colleagues have been assembled there in Houston to ferret out the reasons for both of these somehow related occurrences.  I would greatly appreciate it if all of you would please assist them in this regard in any way you can.  But try to keep it quiet.  As those of us on the Moon and you on Earth get a better idea about what is going on, we will build a consensus opinion about what is and what has been happening.  And then we will let the rest of the world know what we have discovered.  In the meantime, please try to keep a lid on what we are doing, both there, and here on the Moon.?

CHAPTER 7

?The BIG EYE moved on its own??

Earlier, a little less than ten weeks before the four scientists gathered in Houston that early March, the loud buzzing of his cellphone had wakened Director Thompson.  It almost vibrated off of the table it rested upon, the slight lunar gravity no match for a phone designed to work on Earth.  Luckily, he caught it just before it toppled off the edge of his nightstand.  He and the inscrutable Dr. Vance had recommenced their nighttime dialog once he had control of his phone.

?Yes, it swung approximately 1.5 degrees towards lunar North while simultaneously dipping a little more than one degree of elevation towards that horizon.?

Derek Thompson had groaned at that news when Dr. Vance had informed him of the reason for the late-night call.  Like all such happenings, it had occurred in the middle of his nightly sleep cycle.  And he hated being awakened from any slumber, as interrupted sleep was always hard for him to recapture.

A freaking trillion-dollar telescope couldn?t maintain its commanded track?  He had immediately felt a headache coming on.  He and Vance had spoken for about fifteen more minutes that night on the call, the white-haired doctor having found no reason for the telescope?s movement.  The software and hardware systems had checked out normal, though all of his team?s efforts to realign the BIG EYE back towards the Keid system had been fruitless.  It was as though someone had hacked the system to do a little unauthorized stargazing.  There hadn?t appeared to be anything too exciting in the chosen direction, but his team had noted an interesting anomaly, or blurriness, in the instrument?s new line of sight.  Vance had said that he was investigating the incident, and had promised to get back to the Director as soon as he had any information.

A couple hours later, with Thompson still struggling to go back to sleep, Vance had come to his door, knocked, and let himself in.  The behavior, though out of the realm of normal social etiquette, was not unexpected from Dr. Vance.  Thompson had always found him a bit of a weird egg.

He stood in the doorway leading to the Director?s sleeping quarters, his silhouette outlined by the dim glow of the lights in the main hall behind him.  Thompson sat up in bed, but didn?t turn on his bedside lamp.  He hoped, though he knew it improbable, that this visit would not last too long and he would soon be able to catch at least a little more sleep this night.

?We have discovered that the anomaly I mentioned earlier, that blurriness we observed, is a singularity about 16.5 light years from here.?

?Hmmm.  A black hole just 16.5 light years away.  That?s a darn sight closer than the one that Singh found, and has been studying.  His black hole is about 100 light years out, previously the closest one to Earth that has ever been discovered, right.?

?Yes, it was.  This one is much closer.  And there is none of the debris or bright energy streaming out of this black hole, as there is with many other such bodies.  There doesn?t appear to be any matter within lightyears of this singularity.  With the improved data manipulation algorithm that Dr. Farber has provided, we are getting extraordinary observations of the black hole.  Well, not the singularity itself, as it absorbs all light.  But the surrounding representation is miraculous.  I?m especially interested in a ?halo,? for lack of a better word, that seems to be emanating from the singularity.  This dim circle of light is something that we have never witnessed before, perhaps because we normally lack the precision to discern it.  And, of course, most black holes have all sorts or garbage emanating from them, perhaps diffusing the phenomenon.?

?A halo??

?It is my belief that this halo is not actually being generated by the singularity.  I think that it represents the visual spectrum of light that has boomeranged around the black hole.?

?Whoa!  What?  Boomeranged?  Where did that come from??

?Call it a hunch.?

?OK, but boomeranged?  I understand that a black hole?s gravity is so strong that it can capture light itself.  And gravitational lensing has been an observable, established fact since back in 2016, thus bending light is a known, proven phenomenon.  But what are you suggesting??

?I?m saying that the gravity of the singularity is so strong that what light it doesn?t capture, it bends, altering its course through the cosmos; the gravitational lensing you speak of.  And in some cases, it stands to reason that it bends some of the photons? trajectories all the way around so that they circle the black hole and come back in the direction from whence they came.?

Thompson had remained silent for a few moments, stretching to nearly a minute, as he considered what the white-haired enigma had said.  For his part, Vance had remained silent, letting the Director come to his own conclusions.  It seemed totally feasible that light from the Sun could be part of this halo that Vance was so interested in.  He did some easy mental calculations, intrigued that the singularity was sixteen and a half light years away.

?So, if this ?halo? of light represents beams that originated from the Sun, it would have taken 33 years to make the round trip by ?boomeranging? around the black hole and coming back to its point of origin.  Sixteen and a half years out, then sixteen and a half years back here.  Is that what you are saying?  If the light from our Sun makes up this halo of boomeranged light, then that light is sunshine from thirty-three years ago??

?Sort of.  The BIG EYE is being manipulated with a precision currently impossible for us to replicate.  And in this case, the light from the halo that it is gathering is not from our Sun.  It is the reflected and gathered sunlight from our own planet, Earth.?

?Hold on.  The BIG EYE is being manipulated?  How?  And by whom??

?I think that is irrelevant now.  And may be undiscoverable at any point.?

?Ok, we?ll address that and your conclusions about the source of the manipulation later.  So, what is relevant and worth investigating?  Have you been able to isolate the light in the halo and discern any images?  Is that how you decided it wasn?t sunlight, but rather reflected sunlight from the surface of Earth?  Earthlight??

?I knew that you would ask that question.  I would say Merry Christmas, but we still have a couple of days to go.?

?Eh??

Vance had approached him then, and taken a previously unnoticed folder out from beneath his arm.  With a dramatic pause, he had removed a stack of photos from the folder and handed them to the Director.  Was Vance giving him some sort of Christmas present, two days early?  Thompson finally acquiesced to a sleepless remainder of the night and turned on his bedside lamp.  He squinted at the photos as his eyes adjusted to the light.  He looked them over, any hope of sleep vanishing as the images registered with his slowly awakening conscious.

?I downloaded and printed these when no one else was around.  I find them quite fascinating.?

?This is what you were able to isolate from the light in that halo you were talking about?  The light that you think traveled 16.5 light years to the black hole, was captured by its gravity, and then bent, no, swung around to come back to its point of origin.  To our planet Earth, now??

?Look for yourself.  That is our planet, isn?t it?  I know that it?s a little fuzzy, and not very well defined.  But you can see the continents.  And you can see the lights of the cities on the night-time side of the visible sphere.?

?It?s the Earth??

?Definitely.  And I checked the light signature of the cities on the darker side of the sphere in those photos.  They match the outlines of our major cities, as they would have appeared 33 years ago.  Exactly.  As a matter of fact, I think that the time can be pinpointed even more precisely because of a major wildfire that can be seen in one of the images there in southern California.  One that reached its zenith on December 23, thirty-three years ago, today.?

?So, we are looking at images from Earth?s past, when did you say?  Thirty-three years ago??

?Exactly.  And as a personal aside, I?m excited by the timing.?

?How so??

?I entered this mortal plane on December 25, 1999.  I wish we could refine the resolution more precisely.  If it were perfect, in two days I could witness my own birth!  Or at least see the hospital where I was born that day.?

?Fascinating!  But how and why have we lost control of the BIG EYE??

?Yes, it is fascinating.  And we have no idea how or why we lost control.  Even more amazing is how the BIG EYE has been able to keep its focus on the black hole and its halo.  As you know, normally the fine-tuning motors of the telescope are only able to keep the device steady within a few microns bandwidth, regardless of the resolution of what we are viewing.  Whatever has taken over the BIG EYE is keeping the focus perfectly steady, and I do mean perfectly, so that we can see the halo and what it contains.?

?And in a couple of days we will be able to see the Earth as it appeared on the day that you were born??

?Exactly.  We are seeing images of the Earth from exactly thirty-three years ago.?

?Amazing.?

After the pale scientist had finally left that night, Director Thompson had been unable to go back to sleep, even after turning off his bedside light.  The ramifications of Vance?s words were monumental, to say the least.  Someone or something had taken control of his telescope and he wasn?t too happy about that.  Whatever the purpose, it was alarming that it had happened, and more alarming that it continued to happen.  But that wasn?t why Thompson couldn?t get back to sleep that night.

Vance had been amused by the coincidence that in two days he would be able to witness his own birth, or entrance into this mortal plane, as he had put it, thirty-three years in the past.  What a weird way of phrasing one?s birth.  What Vance apparently didn?t know was even more coincidental.

If there were such things as coincidences.

Thompson was perplexed by the incongruous fact that he too might soon be witnessing his own birth, in the past.  His birthday coincided exactly with the date that they would apparently be seeing in just a couple of days.  He had not known that both he and Vance had been born on Christmas Day, 1999, totally unaware of that little happenstance.  He wondered if that concurrence had anything to do with why the BIG EYE might specifically be narrowing in on that date.  He had an inkling that it did.  That somehow it was related, that somehow everything was freaking related.

That thought had given him pause.  Shortly after turning off his light, something had started nagging at him as he had tried to find that elusive slumber he knew he would regret not getting the following day.  Finally, he had thrown the blanket off his body and sat up in bed.  He had turned his light back on and reached for the drawer of his bedside table, to seek relief from the book he kept there.  Opening the drawer, he had hesitated, and instead grabbed his electronic tablet.  In no time, he was viewing the personnel records of the scientists working for him and those utilizing the BIG EYE for various projects.  He then expanded his search worldwide.  It took him a while, but when he had finished, he was more than a little shocked at what he had discovered.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

CHAPTER 8

After the introductions were over and Vance had finished bringing everyone in the Lunar Control Center up to speed, he and Thompson signed off, and the left-hand monitor on the far wall dissolved into the stark view of the BIG EYE telescope itself, that had previously been featured on the center screen.  A foreign view of the Moon from some observatory on the Earth now flickered to life on the right-hand screen.  The huge center screen was filled with the current star-field view provided by the BIG EYE telescope.  Michael found himself captivated by the beautiful vista; his eyes continually drawn to the center of the expanse.  So much so that he didn?t notice his colleagues leaving until they were some yards away.  And he wouldn?t have noticed even then, had Monique not called out to him.

?Mike!  Are you going to join us??

?What?  Yes, I?m sorry.  I got distracted.?

?More like mesmerized, or maybe, hypnotized.?

He hurried to catch up with her and the group.  They were just entering a side door that led to a small conference room off of the cavernous Lunar Control Center.  It was pretty standard, with a fairly large monitor on one wall and a table with six chairs around it.  As they entered the room, the monitor flickered to life, and there was Derek Thompson?s visage once again staring out at them.  Michael could just make out Samuel Vance, now standing just to the right of Thompson.  The scientists all settled down, taking seats around the table and turning their attention to the Director.  Tony stood to one side of the room; his arms crossed over his clipboard.  Michael regarded the scar high up on his forehead that disappeared into his curly black hair.  It was almost white and thus quite prominent.  He wondered about whatever had caused the X, figuring it had to have been quite traumatic.

?Good evening again, everyone.  As you surely gathered from those startling developments, we certainly have our work cut out for us.  Obviously, you will be given as much assistance as possible from the personnel there in Houston, but right now I want to fill you in on one part of this puzzle that only Samuel Vance and I are privy to.  And I can see that everyone else that needs to be brought fully up to speed is present in that conference room.?

?I?ll leave you eggheads to your party,? interrupted Brooks, moving towards the open door.  As the scientists began to set up their laptops and computer notepads on the room?s conference table, Michael paused to watch the man leave.  He could see that Brooks appeared quite relieved to be getting away from whatever Director Thompson was about to reveal.

?Hold on, Tony.  You need to be here as well, for reasons that will become painfully obvious in just a minute.  Please close the door and take a seat.?

At the Director?s words, the mission control supervisor did as he was told, consternation replacing the relief that had fled from his face moments earlier.  Michael could relate.  Revelations of momentous import were coming at a fast and furious pace, and that had everyone on edge.  Thompson waited until Brooks had taken a seat before he continued.

?As Dr. Vance just announced to the main mission control audience, about ten weeks ago, someone or something hijacked the directional guidance system of the BIG EYE and pointed it at what turned out to be a black hole about 16.5 light years away.  What he didn?t speak about was what occurred two days later.  Samuel, can you please explain to your colleagues what happened this past December 25th??

?Certainly, let me start with some background information.  If you lend your attention to view on the monitor, you will shortly see a view of the Earth.  But this is a world thirty-three years younger.?

The screen in the conference room changed into a grainy view of Earth, initially showing the nighttime vista of what appeared to be the Western Hemisphere, judging by the cities lit up along the coastline of the North American continent.  As Dr. Vance spoke, the video showed the Earth slowly rotating to reveal the rest of the planet.  He explained the mechanism of how the black hole bent light and how the halo contained photons that had traveled out 16.5 years out, and then boomeranged back 16.5 years, so that what they were viewing was the Earth?s past, exactly 33 years ago.  Michael was riveted by the view of his home planet, and the slow, almost hypnotic, cadence of Vance?s words.

He further explained that there was no way that BIG EYE?s positioning motors could possibly hold the telescope in such a precise manner without some outside, and as yet unknown, intervention.  On the screen, the view of the world sped up, a series of white numbers along the bottom counting the days, hours, minutes and seconds as they quickly passed.  Earth?s image rotated almost two more times by the time he stopped speaking, and now once again showed the Western Hemisphere.  The numbers along the bottom stopped changing, and the screen before them frozen.  Dr. Vance had stopped speaking, allowing the image to speak for itself.  Ram was the first one to regain the ability to respond.

?Are you saying that is the view of our planet 33 years ago??

?I am.  This is Earth, on December 25th, 1999, at about 5 AM Eastern Standard Time.?

?That is when I was born.?

On the screen before them, Director Thompson?s visage appeared once again to look at each of them in turn.  He wasn?t smiling, or frowning.  But his look was powerful, nonetheless.  Beside him, Vance?s poker face was just as inscrutable.  It was a few moments before anyone else spoke.  The scientists in Houston looked back and forth at one another, as Director Thompson took up the narrative.

?I couldn?t tell which of you just said that, but it doesn?t matter.  Because it could have been any one of you.  Or it could have been me, or Dr. Vance, for that matter.  Yes, that is exactly what I am saying.  In precisely one minute on this video, each of us was born, 33 years ago.  Now watch closely as that minute plays out.?

The screen changed once again to show Earth, 33 years in the past.  The numbers on the bottom of the screen began to move slowly, the seconds ticking away.  Every set of eyes was glued unblinking to the dark planet, and to the countdown winding its way to 5 AM, Eastern Standard Time, Christmas Day, 1999.

Just as the seconds? digits clicked to zero, several intensely bright, laser-like beams of light instantaneously pierced the image of planet Earth? and the recording froze once again.  Two of the beams hit targets in or very near the continental United States.  One struck in Alaska.  One hit South America.  And some others apparently struck the other side of the planet, the exact point of their impacts out of the direct view of the recording?s perspective.  Their presence was highlighted by a slightly increased glow just beyond the rim of the Earth.  A pin dropping would have made a clamor in the small conference room.  Finally, Director Thompson?s voice, low and intense, filled the air.

?I won?t bore you with the details.  Each of you knows where you were born.?

This time it was Monique that broke the silence.

?I was born on a 747, out over the Atlantic, just off the coast of North America.  My mother was flying to the United States from Dubai, to do a little shopping in New York City before my coming birth.  But I arrived a full month early.  The story goes that the entire plane filled with a bright light the moment I was born.  They said it was lightning.?

Then the room erupted in conversation, with each person relating the circumstances of their births.  For his part, Michael ignored the tumult, instead opening a window on his tablet to scour the Internet, fact checking the information Thompson was spouting.  It was just the natural skeptic in him playing out, as usual.  Especially with anything seemingly impossible, or spiritual, in nature.  What he was hearing definitely qualified on both levels.  He listened with one ear as the rest of his colleagues related their own birth stories from about the world.  He discovered that Director Thompson was right, so far as he could tell.  Everyone from Derek Thompson to Charlene Kam to Antonio Brooks, who he brilliantly deduced was Tony, had been born on that day.  He chuckled at one of the entries he found with his quick Internet data search.  It looked like the files from the past weren?t perfect, and contained some duplications.

But then again, he figured that nothing was perfect, right?  Michael could hardly control the vitriol rising within him, nor could he explain the intensity of his response to Thompson?s revelations.  He didn?t know why his negative reaction to the Director?s words was so strong, then for a moment he found himself back on the plane out of Denver, staring at the pregnant passenger?s distended belly.  Oh, that was all the hint he needed.  He managed to reign in any outward display of rancor.  He kept searching the web.

Of course, the Internet database didn?t mention the other common denominator that vividly marked that day for each of them.  Nowhere could he find any reference to any flashes of light.  He turned off his pad and listened more intently to his fellow scientists? recounted birth stories.  Once all the chaff had been removed, the presence of that bright light at each birth was the truly mystical part of each story.  A light that had penetrated the moment, whether or not there had been a window present.  Spooky.  The room finally became silent.  After a few more moments, Director Thompson continued speaking.

?So, it stands to reason that this is what the mysterious power, or manipulator, wanted us to view from 33 years ago.?

?Mysterious power?  Manipulator?  Are you saying, a god of some sort??

?Maybe, Professor Singh.  I don?t know.  Not yet.  But on a hunch, after Dr. Vance let it slip that he had been born on Christmas Day, I used the highly coincidental timing of this event to find out who else had been born that particular early morning.  Ladies and gentlemen, we seven are it.  To the best competency of the record keeping available at the time, the seven of us were the only people born within ten minutes of 5 AM, US Eastern Standard Time, Christmas Day, 1999.  With over 200 babies normally being born worldwide every minute at the time, we seven being the only ones born at exactly 5 AM, give or take ten minutes, is pretty extraordinary, even more so with those celestial spotlights marking the events.?

?Beams of light that appear to come from the heavens??

?Correct, Michael.?

?What a crock!  This is beyond fanciful, Director.  Sure, I just checked, and everyone in this room, as well as the two of you up there on the Moon, share our common birthday.  But are you telling us that you assembled all of us here and selected each of us for this project of yours, based solely on when we were born?  And then you somehow assumed that you could use some high-tech tomfoolery to justify that selection and get us hooked??

?Yes, to some extent, I did.  But the tomfoolery you mention is not my doing.  I will concede that the decision to bring all of you together was totally mine.  But you?re all tops in your respective fields, so I don?t care if there was a little intervention on some higher level steering me to consider each of you.  And Michael, in the end it might all be a crock, as you say.  Regardless, I would still like to find out who or what began manipulating the BIG EYE ten weeks ago, and now seems to be influencing the Moon itself.  Maybe more importantly, I would like to know why these two things happened in the first place?  To answer all of these questions, I think we need to expend the maximum effort possible to explore that distant singularity and find out what makes it so special.  And that is what I am tasking each and every one of you in Houston to do.  In conjunction with your efforts there, that is what Dr. Vance and I plan to do here on the Moon.  I think it vital.?

?This is bullshit.?

CHAPTER 9

?This is bullshit.?

As he walked back down the clear passageway between the BIG EYE control center and the living-sector of Armstrong Base, the words still echoed in his head, faintly reverberating from his own distant past.  Derek Thompson looked heavenward, the bright pinpoints of the stars above providing little illumination for the steps he took.  It was nighttime on the dark side of the Moon; a time for thought, reflection.  No one else walked the long, quiet channel.

Michael?s crude outburst was not all that unexpected, given the circumstances.  It really was a lot to take in.  And Derek could relate to the feelings that the scientist, actually all the gathered scientists, had to be experiencing with the salvo after salvo of incongruous events striking them in rapid succession.

?This is bullshit.?

Long ago, over a decade earlier, with multiple shocks coming one after another, Derek had heard those same words spoken.  A different setting, and certainly a different context, but the situation at that time had been every bit as important as what was currently going on with the Moon and the BIG EYE.  At least, to him.  There wasn?t any connection between the two occasions, other than perhaps a gentle push in motivations that had caused Derek to re-examine his career choices.  A nudge that had definitely led him to change his life?s vector.

Walking slowly down the lengthy corridor, he chuckled mirthlessly at the words that had sprung to his mind.  Gentle push?  Re-examine?  Nudge?  Hardly!  Looking skyward through the plexiglass walkway, he laughed aloud as yet another memory surfaced; actually the words that he had spoken, the catalyst for the previously uttered expletive he had heard back then.

?What is this to you??

The question had floated unbidden from his past as he walked beneath the spectacular arc of stars above him.  Though he was trying to clear his head after the videoconference with the five Houston players, that wasn?t happening.  Michael Farber?s ?bullshit? expletive had jolted him, shocking him back through the years, sending him tumbling to a pivotal incident in his own life, when he had asked the imperative question, just recalled, and then heard the same words that Michael had uttered.

He finally stopped to take in the majesty above him, and let himself get lost in that memory.  He moved to the side of the corridor to make room for anyone who might come along.  The vibrant splash of stars above him was intoxicating.  But, leaning against the plexiglass that protected him from the unforgiving vacuum of space, he closed his eyes and let himself be swept along in the strong current of memories past.

?What is this to you??

Derek, those many years earlier, had beseeched the shirtless man standing in front of him in the doorway, almost pleading.  He needed an answer.  Badly.

?This is bullshit,? the man had said, not answering the question, and dismissing Derek entirely.  As the long-suppressed memory unfolded, a twenty-one-year-old Derek found himself once more standing before his mentor, pleading with a man who he had followed, had actually idolized, for years.  It was as though he were actually there again, reliving the episode all over again.  In that past, his arms were spread in doubt and confusion at the tableau unfolding before him.

He could not counter; could not even respond to the expletive the man had uttered back then.

There was a nearly undressed young man and a scantily clad young girl in the bedroom beyond; he could just see them through the crack in the doorway that the bare-chested older man was blocking.  The two youths were standing stationary on the bed, both breathing heavily from exertion, apparently having been using it as a trampoline.  The girl had both of her hands over her mouth.  Hiding her identity?  Her efforts in that regard were for naught, as he recognized her eyes, even from across the room.  Was she hiding her shame?  Derek had no idea what he was witnessing, what he had interrupted, no idea if shame was even warranted.  He had come unannounced to the Reverend?s home that night, to finally confront him about the fiduciary irregularities he had uncovered.  That, and other things.   He instinctively knew that the problems outlined in the computer pages he grasped in his right hand paled in comparison to whatever he was seeing through that crack in the doorway.

Of course, it could be innocent horseplay.  Just two kids, really.  Two youths jumping up and down on the bed and laughing, while a shirtless older man looked on, encouraging their antics.  It had to be innocent horseplay, didn?t it?  The girl in her panties and a t-shirt, the boy bare-chested in tightie-whities, both glistening somewhat from their exertion.  Everybody just engaging in some harmless roughhousing.  Just two kids in their underwear and a bare-chested old codger late in the evening having a jolly good time.  Innocent?  Slowly, the pages in Derek?s hand dropped to the floor, their contents completely forgotten.

?Derek, go home,? continued the good Reverend, not caring about whatever demons Derek might be fighting.

But he couldn?t.  Even then, home was many, many years, and many, many miles away, both in the past and in the future.  That moment in time was a turning point, years in the making, that would resonate for the remainder of Derek?s life.  And in that moment, he was suddenly cast adrift, no solid footing available for him to step upon.  And he wondered how that had happened.  That moment, so long ago, had shocked him to his core.  Hadn?t he led a pretty good life up until that moment?  As the pages fell to the floor, the younger Derek had tried to figure out just when he had taken the wrong turn that had brought him to the scene unfolding before him on that fateful night.

The first part of his life had been so full of promise.  He had graduated high school when he was just fifteen years old, easily garnering sufficient college credits to simultaneously receive a collegiate Associate Degree in business management.  At the same time he had submerged himself in the world of science, comfortable in the order and regiment that mathematics, physics and mechanics provided.  Of course, he had been the student body president, Captain of the track team, and the class valedictorian.  He would not have accepted, nor expected less.  Nor would anyone who knew him.  Ultimately, he was offered, and accepted, a full-ride scholarship in physics to Harvard University.

As they say, the world was his oyster.

He settled in quickly, getting along fabulously with his roommate, a mathematical genius by the name of Jack Simmons.  They tore through their separate course loads, each challenging the other to reach new, dizzying heights in their respective majors.  But shortly after arriving at that pinnacle of academia, his journey through life had taken an unexpected turn.  After just one year at Harvard, he had become bored with both the curriculum of that august institution, and with the phalanx of progressive, freethinking, liberal coeds that constantly assailed him, apparently wanting to make the young sixteen-year-old genius their plaything.  Even the challenge of maintaining and one-upping Jack?s intellectual demands proved insufficient, failing to keep him from falling into a general malaise.

Searching for something more, on a lark, Derek had attended a symposium at a nearby Lutheran Church on the outskirts of Cambridge.  The He Lives Foundation had hosted the program, which dealt with God?s diminishing influence in the digital age of the Internet.  Something clicked, so the next day he joined the local chapter of He Lives, and started doing volunteer work for that organization.  Within weeks, he was interning for the Foundation, and had befriended Mark Rampart, another student at Harvard and the son of the movement?s founder.  They immediately became fast friends and over the next few months established a strong, enduring bond.  During his remaining years at Harvard, while roommate Jack challenged him intellectually, Mark and the Foundation exploded his spiritual boundaries.

?Man, you are really buying into all of this, aren?t you??

He and Mark, having just finished classes, were hoofing it over to the church.  His friend was struggling a bit with Advanced Economics, and Derek could tell from the way he asked the unexpected question that he was in a foul mood.

?Of course, don?t you??

?Living as closely to the center of the universe as I did, it all eventually lost its luster.?

?Still, it must have been great, growing up in the Reverend?s house.?

?Not so much.  My sister and I quickly learned to distance ourselves from most of the madness.  Our mom was a different matter.  As soon as she divorced our dad and married the good Reverend, she swallowed his spiel; hook, line and sinker.  Still, if you ever get a chance to meet mom and sis, you?ll like them a lot.?

?I think you had a great opportunity.?

?You would.?

Over the next two years, while tearing through his Harvard courses, Derek embraced his new calling, starting at the bottom of the food chain of the He Lives Foundation.  He was swept away by the ?rightness? of it all.  Those were the happiest days of his life, taking calls, going door to door, helping to spread the word of God and helping to attract newcomers to their chapter?s flock.  Derek felt a kinship with just about everyone that came on board.  And every Sunday, he and the growing congregation were allowed to bask in the televised glory of Reverend Oliver Rampart?s ministering.  Even though limited to grainy, fuzzily projected images, the man exuded charisma and his message pierced Derek to the bone.

Of course, they collected donations.  Lots of them.  But there was no harm in that, as every crusade needs oil to lubricate the wheels of its war machine.  They were not one of those religious cults, after all.  Under his and Mark?s watch, the Cambridge chapter of the He Lives movement increased its membership to over four times the size it had been when Derek had first attended the symposium.  This was quite a feat, considering the neighborhood, smack dab in the backyard of one of the most anti-Christian, anti-religious communities in all of the United States.  Derek?s efforts, and those mounting donations from the affluent congregation, didn?t go unnoticed.  It wasn?t long before his bright rising star came to the attention of the head of the Foundation, the Reverend Oliver Rampart.  The young Derek was a whiz at getting things done, a natural born leader.  Also, it didn?t hurt that he was Mark?s best friend, Rampart?s stepson, with whom Oliver was constantly trying to forge a better relationship.

Though the university pleaded with Derek to pursue his Doctorate at Harvard after completing his undergrad and Masters by the end of his third year, he declined.  Like Jack, his roommate and only other friend throughout his college years, he had other plans.  Right after they both graduated, Derek jumped on a bus and headed West, to the frontier, leaving Cambridge for Cheyenne, Wyoming, the center of the He Lives ministry.  Jack, who didn?t share Derek?s apprehensions for flying, also headed West, taking off for southern California, to start his own journey.  Mark, who still had a full year to go on his undergraduate degree, was left behind.  Derek remained close friends with both of his collegiate colleagues, but he was on a mission.  Forsaking his education in physics and his highly coveted degrees, he knew that he had been called to serve one of God?s true warriors.  Nothing could have kept him from his appointed task.  When he stepped off the bus in Cheyenne almost fifty hours later, the Reverend himself was there to meet him.

?So, you?re the young man I have been hearing so much about!?

His strong handshake, his unwavering gaze, and his vibrant bearing left little doubt that the Reverend Oliver ?Ollie? Rampart had been born into his current profession.  It was no wonder that over the last decade his congregation had been more than doubling every year.  The faithful couldn?t get enough of him.  And his enthusiasm was infectious.

?Some of it even true, Reverend.?

Rampart laughed; a boisterous, raucous bellow that made the man even more engaging.  He took Derek?s bag from him, put his hand about his shoulder, and then led him toward the depot?s exit.

?Call me Ollie, please.  Let?s get moving, as we?re double-parked just outside the depot.  Emily will be ecstatic to meet you.?

As expected, there was a minivan parked in front of the bus terminal, just on the other side of the busy roadway.  A young girl, maybe eleven or twelve years old, was minding the fort, sitting in the rear passenger seat of the vehicle.

The Reverend was right.  As soon as she looked up and noticed them leaving the depot, the girl threw open the door and jumped out of the car.  She ran right at them at a flailing, breakneck speed, coming to a breathless halt just a few feet away.

?Hi, I?m Emily!  How do you like me so far??

A more precocious young thing Derek had never met.  So, this was Mark?s little sister.  He loved her from the moment he saw her.

?Nice to meet you, Emily.  And, I must admit, I?m smitten.?

This pleased the girl to no end, though Derek feared the huge smile might break her face at any moment.  She stepped forward and offered her hand.  He shook it, and she stepped back.  She looked beyond his shoulder, a quizzical expression on her face.

?Why didn?t you bring Mark home with you??

?He needed to stay at Harvard a bit longer.  You know how dedicated he is!?

The reality was that her brother was still having a bit of a hard time, and needed to stay for the summer session to make up a couple of the classes that he had faltered with during the previous semester.  Derek would never tell her that, of course.

?Come on pumpkin head,? Rampart said, giving his stepdaughter?s head a quick, vigorous rub.

?Careful, Ollie, you?ll mess up my hair!?

It was obvious that the two of them cared for one another deeply, and she didn?t really mind if he tousled her pixie-cut do.  He could see from that smile of hers that she loved it.  She skipped back to the car and jumped in.  And didn?t stop talking the entire ride to the He Lives complex, where Derek would be living.

Over the next few months, he settled in at the little town that was the nexus of the He Lives Foundation.  He worked at its headquarters, doing whatever he could to promote the brand he knew he wanted to support for the rest of his life.  And he loved it.  He got to see their leader almost every day, and that usually meant he got to see Emily frequently, as well.  His life was idyllic.

It was amazing how much effort went into making the He Lives ministry the powerhouse that it was.  They had a publishing department responsible for the Foundation?s massive amount of promotional literature, not to mention the publication of the Reverend?s many inspirational books.  Then there was the missionary wing, that trained the growing army of dedicated young men and women that He Lives sent all over the world to spread the word of God.  And, of course, there was the communication group, which coordinated all of the social media channels, the extensive radio coverage, and the television studio, where Rampart performed his weekly Sunday services.  It was a living, breathing organism, and Derek had just the right personality, education, and confidence to tame the beast.  Through dedication and hard work, he soon became the Reverend Ollie?s right hand man.

He was grateful for the quick series of promotions, but unfortunately, they also availed him the opportunity to witness some kinks in the Foundation?s armor.  Derek soon became painfully aware that all was not as it seemed within the He Lives community.  The higher Derek rose within the Foundation?s infrastructure, and the more his duties expanded, the less enamored he became with its operation.  He noted discrepancies in donation totals.  There were spurious expenditures he couldn?t reconcile, and extravagant trips for which he could find no purpose.  He began to question the motivations of those running the organization.  Incrementally, he began to lose faith in the Foundation he had so recently pledged his life to.  At times, he would become stressed, almost to the breaking point.

But then, he would find himself in the Reverend Ollie?s presence, and everything would seem right again.  It was like getting a B-12 shot for the soul.  The man exuded charisma and confidence; erasing any fears that Derek might have had about the Foundation?s motives.  And any time Derek voiced his fears to him, the Reverend would convincingly assure him that he was mistaken.  Or give a seemingly valid reason for whatever behavior Derek was questioning.  He trusted him.  He continued giving his body and soul to the cause, now almost four years since he was first introduced to He Lives in Massachusetts.

And then there was Emily, who helped him more than anything else with any misgivings he might have had with the organization.  Afterall, she lived with the Reverend.  And if she couldn?t see a problem with him, and problems always start at the top, then there couldn?t really be anything wrong.  And she adored her stepfather.

?Derek, have you ever been in love??

?No, I don?t think I have.  Why do you ask??

In the years he had been living in Wyoming, Mark?s little sister had slowly been morphing from a little girl to a young woman.  She was now almost fourteen years old, and the gawky lankiness of youth was being replaced with the slender promise of womanhood.  Emily still chose to wear her hair in that adorable pixie-cut she had sported when Derek had first met her.  He could see a beautiful woman on her horizon.

?I met a boy.?

Ah, thought Derek.  He smiled, happy for Emily.  And it gave him hope that maybe someday he would meet a nice girl.

?Really.  Who is he??

?I?m not going to tell you!?

?Oh, and why not??

?I know you!  You?ll tell him I like him, or embarrass me in some way.?

He would.

?No, I wouldn?t.  How could you ever think I would do something like that??

Oh, he definitely would.

?Well, I?m not telling!?

He chucked to himself.  If Emily could see through him, she surely would have been aware of anything amiss in her own house.  Or in the organization that her stepfather headed.  The Reverend Ollie was above reproach.

Or seemed to be.

As time passed, he tried to ignore what he saw; rationalizing that the good that the organization accomplished far outweighed the bad.  Ultimately though, despite Emily?s unwitting endorsement of its merits, he decided that the Foundation had gone astray and needed to undergo some sort of correction.  He just needed to get Reverend Ollie?s attention and convince the man to more firmly take the reins, and right his errant organization.  Though they spoke frequently of the insidious problems that Derek had recognized, Rampart continued to brush him off, saying that his suspicions were unfounded.  And the man was steadfast in his faith.  How could a man so deeply spiritual allow any shenanigans within his ministry?  Surely, Derek was just misinterpreting the many fractures he thought he was seeing.  Then one day, he became aware that Reverend Oliver Rampart himself was beginning to display weaknesses that he should have been able to fight off.

?That went well, don?t you think??

Derek was with Ollie in his dressing room, still enraptured by yet another televised Sunday service.  A number of other people were crowded in the small room with him, including Emily and a young classmate of hers.  He thought the boy?s name was Simon.  They seemed to be paying more attention to one another than to the Reverend.

?Amazing, as usual,? offered Derek, euphoric.  He was certain that the tens of thousands of subscribers to the He Lives telecast were equally blown away.  The power of these weekly broadcasts was gripping, so uplifting, providing the cane that allowed him to continue his blind walk through his budding spiritual journey.  No one who witnessed these telecasts could fail to feel the same reverence.

?What did you think about the part where I talked about Jesus at the Mount of Olives, stressing how great his ministry might have been, had he had tools like Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram to spread the word??

?Truth, absolute truth.?

?Marvelous!?

?Blessed!?

As he recounted his sermon to the cluster or well-wishers in the room, Reverend Ollie was removing his clothing and toweling the perspiration from his body and his brow, the exertion of his evangelizing quite draining.  Everyone wanted to bask in their great leader?s glory.  Accolades complete though, the fawning admirers slowly began leaving the room, until only Emily, Simon, and Derek remained with the great man.  By this time, the Reverend had unashamedly stripped down to his boxers and his t-shirt, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.  As the Reverend had been disrobing, Derek had begun growing more and more uncomfortable, but then Rampart threw on a robe and diffused an increasingly awkward situation.

But then, just as suddenly, Derek?s qualms had returned, when he caught the Reverend regarding the two young people with what appeared to be less than noble intent.  He seemed to be falling to weaknesses of the flesh, which if he were of the right mind and faith, could never have been possible.  At that moment, Rampart had glanced over at him.  First looking as though he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, his expression turned on a dime, and he ushered everyone out of the room so that he could get dressed.  Good recovery, but the episode fortified Derek?s resolve, and he decided right then that he needed to confront his mentor.

So, later that fateful night, he had broken protocol and gone uninvited to Rampart?s home, and then let himself in when no one answered the doorbell.  He found Reverend Ollie?s wife in the living room downstairs, obviously passed out from consuming the now empty bottle of brown liquor resting on the table beside the sofa where she slumped.  He went over to make sure she was alive, and then moved her legs up on the sofa to get her comfortable, putting a nearby quilt on her to keep her warm.

Then Derek had climbed the stairs, knowing that the bedrooms were on the second floor of the suddenly, much-too-opulent home.  A servant of God should not live in such splendor, should he?  Why had he not seen this problem before?  He heard loud music coming from one of the bedrooms, so he moved in that direction.  At his firm knock, the door opened almost immediately, a shirtless Reverend Oliver Rampart clearly agitated by his intrusion.  He had blocked the doorway, quickly recovering his composure.

?Derek, go home.?

But Derek wasn?t about to go home.  He repeated his question.

?Please answer me, Reverend Ollie.  What is all of this to you??

Derek stood before his mentor, arms spread, pleading for understanding.  On some level he knew that he wasn?t just asking the Reverend about the practice of his faith, but maybe questioning his own motivations.  Rampart hesitated for a moment, perhaps recognizing that it was a multi-level question.  He probably saw that Derek was in crisis, not handling too well his introduction to the realities of the world.  The good Reverend must have decided that the prudent course was to sidestep the question.  He provided the general answer sought, but ignored the specific.

?It?s a calling.?

?A calling?  Don't make me laugh.  From the outside you are a true believer, one of Christ?s most ardent soldiers, spreading His word to all Mankind.  But you are not that, not at all.  I now recognize you for what you are.  You?re a pusher, man.?

?A pusher??

?Exactly.  You push a product you don?t use, that you certainly don?t embrace, for an unholy result.?

Derek was getting madder by the moment.  The young girl and the boy were sitting on the bed now, intently watching what was happening in the doorway.  He could see that the girl was trembling, beginning to sob.  In shame?  Fear?  He couldn?t tell what brought on the tears.

?I believe in what I am doing.?

?I believe in what you are doing, as well.  What we are doing!  But you are the leader of our cause.  You need to hold those who follow you to His standards.  And you, of all people, need to live what you preach.?

Rampart must have realized that Derek was not going to be satisfied with his general answer to his question.  And he was obviously growing agitated.

?Derek, this is none of your concern.?

?No, you wouldn?t think so.  But I do.  I realize now that I have been blinded by my faith in you.  I have never questioned the seriously flawed accounting methods our Foundation employs for all the donations that we have collected.  I have ignored the trips our board members and our senior executives take on a monthly basis to cities and countries of questionable repute.  And most difficultly, I have turned a blind eye to this specific aspect of your personal behavior in the past.  All of us have sinned.  And all of us need forgiveness.?

?Forgiveness?  I?m not going to ask for your forgiveness, boy.  I say again, this is none of your business.?

?You don?t need to ask for my forgiveness, old man.  But you had best ask just that from the God whom you serve.  I have no doubt that you started the Foundation with good intent.  But even you must see that you have strayed, have truly warped that intent.  And this?  This is an outrage!?

?This is bullshit.  I don?t answer to you, little puppy.?

Rampart turned away from him, getting ready to go back inside the room.  Derek could not allow that.  He reached out and put his hand on the man?s shoulder, holding him back.  The Reverend spun about, quick as a cat.  And Derek suddenly found himself falling back into the wall behind him, his mouth not yet registering the sharp, backhanded blow it had received.  Momentarily dazed, the taste of blood finally roused him, and he saw that Rampart was already back in the bedroom, closing the door.

Shaking his head to gather his senses, he barged through the nearly shut door, slamming the unsuspecting Reverend to the ground.  When the man tried to get up, Derek hit him as hard as he could.  Oliver crumpled to the floor.

?Get out of here,? Derek screamed at the boy and girl, bloody spittle spraying from his mouth.  He moved back to the door, holding it open for their exit.

He didn?t have to tell them twice.  Emily and Simon jumped from the bed, no one paying attention to their state of undress.  They grabbed their clothes from the floor and hurried out of the room.  Derek didn?t watch Reverend Oliver Rampart?s almost fourteen-year-old stepdaughter, and the boy that she liked, flee the room.

He slammed the door shut.  And then, turning back to the unconscious man on the floor, he began stomping and kicking him.  He did so for quite some time, before reason finally got hold of him and he stopped, falling to the ground and weeping.  From his near fetal position, he asked God for forgiveness, not just for him, but also for the prone man he had just stopped short of killing.  They were all sinners.  He finally got to his knees.

And after some while bent in prayer, he started to rise.  But first he crawled over and checked to see if Rampart was alive.  Thankfully, he was.  The man even began to stir at his touch, softly moaning, and haltingly moving his hands over his pummeled torso and mangled face.

Derek stood and surveyed the room.  He saw Reverend Rampart?s personal Bible on the bedside table.  It gave him pause.  He knew it didn?t belong here, not with this abomination.  And thus, shortly after praying to God, asking Him to forgive his many sins, he broke the seventh Commandment and tucked the book under his arm.  He fled the house shortly afterwards, never worried that the authorities would ever be called.  The Reverend Oliver Rampart and his He Lives Foundation became a memory he figured he would forever try to expunge.

On the bus ride to Salt Lake City, Derek had read the Bible in the light provided by one of those tiny overhead socket bulbs above his seat that barely put out enough lumens to push back even the slightest of shadows.  And he prayed.  But it was difficult, almost unbearable.  The serenity he had previously found in reading the scriptures was gone.  At one point in the drive, he took a black ballpoint pen from his pocket.  He was going to cross out the name Oliver Rampart on the inside cover, but left it, instead etching a cross on the Bible?s title page.  He did it frantically, savagely, and perhaps a little too loudly.  He couldn?t stop himself as he continued to desecrate that first page for what seemed like hours, but was only seconds.

Finally, he looked up and saw that a young man, sitting across the aisle, had noticed the commotion and was staring at him.  Not with reproach or condemnation, as one would normally expect from someone witnessing a man defacing a Bible.  No, he looked at Derek scratching at the Bible, and nodded, somberly.  As though he somehow understood his angst.  Derek nodded back at the man, feeling a strange kinship, and then looked down at his handiwork.  He sighed.  It was a blasphemy, but necessary.  A cleansing act of betrayal and redemption.  So, instead of forgetting He Lives, he made himself a promise to remember, to always remember.  And though he would step back from his early faith based career choices, he would continue to serve God, following His word as best he could.

The long dormant memories again grown fuzzy, Director Thompson was left drained, leaning there against the hard plexiglass wall.  Opening his eyes, he let out a sigh.

?God, give me strength,? he implored, but his words met only silence.  The brilliant stars above seemed to flee his request.

He once again started moving, resuming his long walk along the translucent corridor.  The flood of memories had left him exhausted.  Finally, he got back to his tiny room and began preparing for bed.  He pulled Rampart?s old Bible, his for over a decade now, from his nightstand.  He didn?t open it, already knowing it intimately.  But he instinctively knew that he would need it soon, to help wade through all the bullshit coming his way.

CHAPTER 10

In the days that followed their arrival, the four scientists in Houston had immersed themselves in what each reckoned might be their part in the unique project Director Thompson had entangled them in.  Without any specific guidance, it was easy for Michael, Monique, and Ram to keep doing what they had been doing before they even got the Director?s call to action.  Michael kept fine-tuning his data manipulation program, figuring that any improvement in the BIG EYE?s resolution might help reveal whatever secrets that the distant black hole might hold.  Likewise, Monique dove into a recently conceived electro-mechanical enhancement to the BIG EYE telescope she had been considering.  And Ram continued investigating black holes, in particular studying the two newest singularities? behaviors, and trying to determine how their properties meshed with his recently developed theories about the galactic oddities.

Charlene, having no idea how she could possibly help with the project, looked for other distractions where she could channel her energies.  She didn?t have a technical degree and didn?t know diddly-squat about black holes.  Luckily, she found an appropriate venue in a nearby Houston suburb that catered to the hearing impaired.  It was right up her alley, as she had been doing similar volunteer work in a comparable institution near her cousin?s house in Galveston, who?s deaf daughter had prompted her move to Texas in the first place.  It was just what she needed to occupy her time, and so she went there as frequently as she could.  She figured that at some point her role would become clear, if there were indeed some higher power orchestrating this mess.

For his part, Tony just watched over the four scientists, pleased to help in any way that he could.  Like Charlene, he was a little hesitant, not knowing how he could help, but serving to coordinate the scientists? efforts on Earth allowed him to feel that he was contributing something.

Michael was not particularly happy with any of it.

Sure, he was content to keep doing what he did best, but he really had no interest in any of the other scientists? efforts.  As far as he was concerned, his bullshit comment that first evening in the conference room had pretty much said it all.  He knew that any involvement by a higher power was impossible; despite any of the little prayers he may or may not have uttered during his recent flight out of Alaska.  Or for that matter, any he might make in any future foxholes he might otherwise find himself cowering within.

Earlier in his life, he had determined that there was no God, no benevolent Father-figure that constantly looked over the lives of his progeny, and warded their safety.  If ever there had been such, big daddy had skipped out long, long ago.  Like Thompson, he was perplexed by the lunar events of late, and at the mysterious circumstances of all their births.  But unlike him, Michael didn?t have even an inkling of an explanation yet, and was unwilling to entertain any spiritual causation.  There was no way that any god, especially not a Christian God, had anything to do with their current circumstances, the mysterious Christmas illumination be damned.

But he would play the game, for at least a little while longer.  Besides, it was still pretty damned cold up in Alaska; way too frosty for him to willingly go back there.  Especially when he had a nice, warm, free vacation being offered in Houston.  Also, he sensed a certain warming in Monique?s attitude towards him, and an equally obvious cooling in her relationship with Singh.  Still, he was cautious, hesitant to get too involved with the woman.  Their daily interactions were more than cordial, and he sensed some interest in him on her part.  But, too frequently, with the slightest, innocent comment, he would somehow unwittingly fan a glowing ember within her? and have to run for cover.  Monique was a walking, living, breathing mine field.  Subsequently, he tried to avoid too much idle conversation with her, while at the same time trying to remain close.  Long and short of it, he stayed because he had no real reason to leave.  And at least there were people to mingle with in Houston, if he chose.  And maybe a beautiful woman there to interact with, however carefully.

As the other six members of the illuminated Christmas-born, on both the Earth and the Moon, carried out their mainly self-appointed tasks, or their diversions, Michael settled into a familiar rhythm.  He could do his work either at the Johnson Space Center, or at his room at the Hilton.  It didn?t matter, so long as he had his laptop with him.  So, as his mood dictated, he alternated going over to the Center to work at the office Thompson had provided for him there, or staying in his hotel room, sitting at the desk in the corner.  The days had already started to run together, which was fine by him.

It was his sixth day in Houston, March 8th, and it started out pretty much like all of the previous ones.  Shortly after awakening and eating a light breakfast, he had decided that he would stay at the Hilton that morning.  That decision made, he sat down at his desk in the hotel room, and prepared to immerse himself in his imaginary work-bubble, sitting expectantly at his laptop; his fingers delicately poised above its keyboard.  Work, his fortress of solitude.  It had been his refuge for as long as he could remember.  The place where he sought solace whenever events in his life crowded him, making him feel unsteady, even with solid ground beneath his feet.  And as the days in Houston were beginning to become a bit monotonous, he was feeling out of sorts there.  Out of place.  And despite his convictions about spiritual involvement, Michael sensed a confluence approaching; elements, both good and evil, rushing towards a climax that might shatter everything he thought he knew true.  He took a deep breath, held it, then expelled it in a long sigh.  He had to submerge himself in his work, to hide from the demons, present or past, that might interfere with the task at hand.

He began typing; playing the keyboard like it were a finely tuned instrument, a Stradivarius, and he was first violin to the orchestra of Mankind.  And in some ways, he was.  Some called him gifted, others skilled; but time would remember him as genius, though he never thought about himself that way.  The digital pieces he wrote, had been writing for over a decade, had opened window after illuminating window for the benefit of all humankind.  His were the comedies and tragedies of science; his notes the bits and bytes prying open the mysteries of the universe.  His present task was another such endeavor, a masterpiece in the making.  If he could just settle into the work.

He sensed that the endless lines of code he was typing were of monumental import.  Maybe even as important as the work he had done over a decade earlier, though he couldn?t see how.  Still, the work he was doing in Houston, the nagging intensity of it, brought back memories of that earlier period of his life, when he had been tasked with a mission that he hoped to one day forget.  One that had changed him, morphed him into the man he was today.  But every now and then, he was reminded of his catharsis those many years ago.  At 33, time and circumstance had already aged him well beyond his years.

Sitting at the corner desk in his room at the Hilton, he thought back to that time, so many ears earlier.  Back then, while working at a small upstart company called BioDyne Technologies, he had felt a similar convergence of circumstances, the weight of multiple occurrences piling up till something must give, or more likely, break.  He remembered that span of his life almost like it were yesterday.  Michael?s fingers spasmed, causing him to mistype a character, then another, then all.  He sighed and stopped trying.  Putting his head back he took a deep breath and sighed, giving in as the long-suppressed memories flooded back.  He brought his hand up to his forehead, to massage the tightness that was developing there, to squeeze out the crowding thoughts.  All, to no avail.  Michael sat back, closed his eyes, and let himself get swept into the current, swirling memories taking him back over a decade, twelve years into his past.  He allowed himself to remember Claire.  And the baby.  And then, all of the unborn babies, all over the world.

Michael remembered the phone call like it were yesterday.

He had just celebrated his twenty-first birthday a few months earlier, when suddenly his whole life was turned upside down.  Isn?t that how life comes at you?  And really, who would have it any other way?  At first, he had been devastated, but had ultimately come around to a certain giddiness, almost euphoria.  That was, of course, once he had gotten over his initial reaction of sheer, abject terror.  But with time came acceptance, and even the youthful Michael had been able to see his whole life ahead of him, and he had not feared what he saw.  A great job, a woman he loved and who loved him, and a new family to cherish were the things most men strive for, once their dreams of fortune and fame fade to reality.

And it all began with that short, troubling phone call.

?Michael, I?m pregnant.?

Not necessarily the words a single, twenty-one-year-old man wants to hear.  Especially not one acquiring mountains of student loan debt, with no idea how he was going to pay it off, ignorant to exactly what path his career might take.  But many a young man had heard just those words, or words similar to them, and dealt with them as best that they could.  Usually badly, and his immediate response did not bode well for a happy ending in his future.

?What?  Claire, are you sure??

?Of course, I?m sure.  Don?t be such an ass.?

Yep, played that one just right.  At least he bit his tongue before he followed his first question with the natural follow-up? ?Are you sure it?s mine??  Though really, what man is ever fully confident in the truthfulness, or accuracy, of any answer to that second question, unless cohabiting a deserted island, or sequestered on a two-person spacecraft or extra-planetary outpost for months before the blessed revelation.  He figured Claire?s response to such a question would have been for him to perform some anatomically impossible act on himself, so he was glad he had the foresight not to operate his vocal cords before his brain was engaged.

?Sorry.  What are you going to do??

Michael immediately knew that was another bad follow-up question, for any number of reasons.  Most importantly, he was certain that his use of the incorrect pronoun would not go unnoticed.  It implied that she was the one that had the problem, that she was in this alone, and that he didn?t have any dog in the hunt.  In his defense, it was 2021, and despite almost a year of increased media focus on the rights of the fetus, there was little to no mention of the sperm donor?s rights.

?We will discuss that tonight.?

The click in his ear informed him that their conversation was over.  He certainly hadn?t handled that situation very well.  In perfect 20/20 hindsight, he wished he had preplanned a response to just such an eventuality, but barely being out of his turbulent teens, he figured she would surely give him some leeway for his stupidity.

Yeah, sure.

?Hey Michael, how is that coding coming on the data accelerator program?  We really need your routine to get the prototype up and running properly.?

Hanging up the phone, he looked up to see Bill Watts lurking over the edge of his cubicle?s partition, and wondered how long he had been there.  Probably, too long.  Bill was a nice enough guy, but socially inept, and essentially a real nerd.  Most everyone at BioDyne Technologies could be described thusly, and was one of the most appealing aspects of his internship at the company.  He fit right in.

?It?s going to be a little longer than I expected.  I got an idea a little while ago on a new way to compartmentalize and loop random byte segments via bit truncation to produce exponentially more rapid data transfer rates.  The resulting data manipulation frequency should make the BioProbe really scream.?

?Er?, that sounds good, but way beyond what we tasked you to do.?

?Relax, Bill.  You and the powers-that-be are going to love it.?

?Ok.  But you only have two more days to finish getting it integrated into the main program?s interface with the BioProbe.?

A few years earlier, BioDyne Technologies had made a major breakthrough with the sensitivity of a probe, or cluster of nodes, that once inserted or connected to a patient, depending on the application, could be used by doctors to accurately determine what a body under stress was actually experiencing.  The node cluster, when placed precisely and non-evasively on the exterior of a body could ?sense? what the body was feeling on a micro-electric, nerve synapse scale.  With the right software it could give near perfect visual, digital and even aural representations of what was going on beneath the skin?s surface.  For very deep applications, a probe could be inserted into the patient?s body, garnering the same wealth of information for those suffering from just about any malaise.  The phone call with Claire fresh on his mind, Michael thought that a perfect application for the BioProbe would be to ascertain the stresses on both the mother and the fetus.  The probe could also probably measure the stress of a newly informed daddy-to-be, even if inappropriately placed in that nether orifice that Claire would have insisted he use for self-copulation, had he been stupid enough to voice all of his thoughts just minutes earlier.

?I?ll get it done.?

He did, and then some.

The improved BioProbe prototype performed well beyond everyone?s expectations.  Michael?s software was revolutionary, and enabled the probe system to be used in a multitude of applications.  In an early test, it accurately pinpointed and interpreted the severity of one patient?s bladder cancer without resorting to the big black snake that struck fear into the hearts of every male patient having any sort of disorder involving his urethra.  And it did so with much more accuracy than any CT scan or ultrasound could ever deliver.  In another application, it was able to decipher the problems of a failing heart, Michael?s program collated the probe?s data stream with data points from prior echocardiograms, electrocardiograms, and CT scans; allowing surgeons to pinpoint exactly where to cut and how, without resorting to chest-cracking guessing games.

The BioProbe, once married to his data manipulation loop, was an order of magnitude more revealing than BioDyne Technologies had ever expected.  And they immediately licensed his routine, with his prior permission of course, which they always insisted on procuring from all potential employees, including interns.  The probe system quickly found purchase in a multitude of medical uses.  Michael personally felt that the sexiest application came with the merger of his routine with the newly expanding field of blindness mitigation.  The BioProbe, when linked to the human brain, a miniaturized processor, and digital goggles, and incorporating Michael?s lightning-fast data routine, enabled the blind to see.  Within weeks, the possibilities for applications using his data routine had grown exponentially.  And BioDyne Technologies of Fort Collins, Colorado, the tiny tech company with vision, started making a whole lot of money.

Of course, Michael was immune to all of the accolades being tossed at his feet due to the revolutionary concept in data manipulation he had fathered.  He didn?t even care that he wasn?t sharing in BioDyne?s financial windfall, money never having been too high on his list of life?s goals.  What did matter to him was Claire?s downward spiral since she had found out about the pregnancy.  While he had come to positive terms with the situation, she was quickly sinking into absolute despair.  He tried praying, not all spirituality having drained from him at that point in his life.  But God did not answer him.  And with God forsaking him, or at least ignoring him, he decided that he had to do something.  Finally, nearly a month after the fateful phone call, he gathered the courage to ask Claire to marry him.

She immediately declined, leaving him stunned, and wondering a bit about his importance to her, and just where he fit into her future plans.  He grasped her hands tighter, instinctively knowing that his clinginess was not going to change her mind, or make him more attractive to her.  He couldn?t stop himself.

?Why not?  We love one another.  I?m absolutely sure BioDyne will hire me as soon as I get my degree.  And they?ve benefited so much from my work there as an intern, I?m equally sure that we will be able to live quite comfortably on whatever salary they offer me.?

?We?re too young to get married.  And you don?t have to carry this thing.  I do.?

?But it?s alive.  It?s a person.  And it?s half mine.?

?Haven?t you been paying attention to the news?  Until it pops out of my soon-to-be-worn-out womb, it?s just tissue.  And my body will never fully recover from the joyful experience!?

?But I love you.  And I don?t care if you won?t look like a teenager for the rest of your life.?

?Well, I do.  And, let?s not forget, it?s my body.?

?But??

?I don?t want to keep it,? she said, ending the conversation.

It was at that moment that Michael realized that he was pro-life, a truly detestable label in 2021.  He also immediately realized that as a man, he didn?t have any say in any of this.  It seemed a societally accepted conclusion that every woman who became pregnant must have found herself in that predicament by means of Immaculate Conception, at least so far as the father?s involvement or rights were concerned.  He didn?t like that, but knew there wasn?t a damn thing he could do about it.  What really bothered him was the total disregard for the fetus.  And more than anything, he hated that word.  Fetus.  It was a person.  He didn?t press the issue further, hoping that Claire would ultimately change her mind.

But she didn?t.

And there wasn?t anything on God?s green earth that he could do about it.  Oh, but he tried.  Prayer hadn?t helped, and maybe that was when his split with the spiritual world really expanded.  With an apparently uncaring God ignoring the plight of the unborn, especially with Him ignoring Michael?s own unborn child, he took matters into his own hands.  And amazingly, he was able to find the answer, the perfect retort to any argument Claire might have had defending abortion, particularly in reference to their own unborn child.

?No, no, no,? he said aloud, no one near to hear his lament.

Michael had to stop.  Those were waters he just wasn?t ready to immerse himself in, though it was a difficult pool to skirt around.  Just seeing the pregnant woman on the airplane, less than a short week ago, had almost had him falling into its depths.  No, it was still going to take some time for him to totally immerse himself in those dark, almost impregnable waters.  He knew that if he didn?t cease his little trip down memory lane, he wouldn?t get anything else done that day, even though it was just beginning.  But it kept nagging at him.

Michael began typing again, relentlessly banging away on the keyboard; perhaps seeking atonement for his previous sins?  And sinner he knew himself to be.  No matter his age, or the general societal pressures, practices, or values prevalent at the time, he should have been able to change things.  But he hadn?t.  Was he blaming God for his own shortcomings?  Probably, to some extent.  And it was so easy to blame God, who should have been powerful enough to help him convince Claire to keep the baby.  He shook his head at the thought.  Everyone has regrets, his were just larger than most.  His typing faltered again, and he gave up.  He stood up and moved to the bed, throwing himself down upon it.  He reached for the remote and turned on the TV.

But there was nothing of import on the news.  And just a passing comment on the Moon?s strange behavior.  Michael correctly guessed that the celestial body?s un-commanded movement and new rotation just weren?t jazzy enough to capture the curiosity of the masses.  He channel-surfed for a few more minutes and then got up to pace his room.  He was at a loss, unable to concentrate.  Mercifully, at that moment, his cellphone began to vibrate.  He answered, not even looking to see who was saving him from his general malaise.

?Hello, Michael Farber,? he said.

?Michael, hello.  It?s Tony Brooks calling.?

?Hey Tony, how?s it going??

?I?m fine.  And I?m just calling to see if there?s anything that I can do for you.  I noticed that you didn?t come over to the Center on the hotel van this morning.  Is everything all right??

Early on, Michael had sensed that Tony was as lost as Charlene was so far as Director Thompson?s project was concerned.  Though he was very technically inclined, and obviously smart as a whip?you don?t become mission control supervisor of the Lunar Control Center without being such? he didn?t really have the talents needed to contribute to their current endeavor.  Michael immediately laughed at his self-aggrandizing thought.  He didn?t know squat about Tony or his abilities, nor for that matter, did he really know anything about any of the other scientists.  Who the hell knew what any of them were contributing?  Or what talents or pedigree might be required.  Or what they were capable of.

?Like you, I?m fine.  I just didn?t feel like coming to the Center this morning.  With my trusty laptop, I can do anything here that I could do there.?

?I see.  I?m just trying to help keep everyone moving forward.?

?Towards what??

?Wherever it is that Director Thompson is leading us.?

?Which is where??

?Ah, I understand.  None of us really knows what this is all about.?

?Nope, we do not.  I?m just working on refining my data manipulation program, which is pretty much what I was doing in Alaska before I was summoned.?

?Yeah, and I?m just trying to make myself useful with you four scientists, while continuing my normal duties.  Do you think what you?re doing with your program will help??

?Who knows?  But I don?t think it will hurt.  Like Thompson, I figure that the more distant black hole was probably put there to show us something.  Whoever put it out there placed it there for us to see something.  Might as well polish off our glasses for a better look.?

?I?ve been thinking about that.  If Vance?s boomerang mumbo-jumbo is applicable to the singularity that the BIG EYE found a thousand light years away, wouldn?t whoever put it there have to had known to put it out there just that far.  Quite the foresight, I should say.  And then, somewhat similarly, wouldn?t they also have had to know that we would be right here, a thousand years after that placement, with the necessary capabilities to see whatever it is that they want us to see, now??

?Interesting, confusing, and something I had not thought about.  So, do you think there will actually be something for us to see?  Something two thousand years in the making??

?I don?t know.  But Thompson and Vance are up there with the BIG EYE, and they seem to think so.  And the forces that are manipulating all of our actions seem to have centered on that instrument, to the point of actually moving the Moon.?

?True.?

On the line, Brooks was quiet for a moment, perhaps carefully choosing his words.  From their conversation, Michael was realizing that the supervisor was much more than the workaholic he seemed to be.  He was a deep thinker, which made Michael laugh once again at his earlier snooty thought about qualification and pedigree.

?Do you think it has something to do with God??

Whoa, Michael didn?t expect that.  He had his own trepidations about the nearer black hole highlighting their births on Christmas, of all days.  And, knowing Thompson, he was sure that the Director had probably already decided that God was involved.  After all, it would take a powerful force to move the BIG EYE, and then, even the Moon itself.  However, having his prayers fall on deaf ears years earlier, or perhaps having them heard, but then ignored, had not endeared Michael to the likelihood of some higher power?s benevolent watchfulness over Mankind.  God?s failure to change Claire?s mind had moved Michael farther and farther away from believing that any god, and particularly the Judeo-Christian entity, even existed.  And now, was such an entity suddenly ready to reveal himself, or his works, in some way?  Was Tony as uncomfortable with that possibility as he was?

?Why do you ask, Tony??

?No particular reason, other than I?m not sure there is really any place for spirituality in science.  And from your reaction to Thompson?s disclosures a week ago, I got the feeling that you probably feel the same way.?

They talked for a couple more minutes, but no answers were forthcoming.  Tony once again asked if there were anything he could do for Michael.  With his answer to the negative, Michael hung up.  Realizing he just wasn?t in the mood to work; he changed the channel from the news to watch a timeless old Friends rerun.

CHAPTER 11

?Well, do you still think it?s all bullshit, Mike??

?What?  Are you talking about my initial bullshit comment that first evening here in Houston, when was it, only a week ago?  Or are you alluding to that which we have endured since??

She sighed.

They were once again sitting in the Hilton bar, having a couple drinks, and trying to unwind after a long day at the Space Center.  The bar had become the after-work gathering place for the scientists to get together and discuss their latest endeavors and the status of their specific projects.  And, of course, to discuss the latest current events in the outside world.

?Yes.  I think that you went a little overboard.  Just saying.?

?Maybe, but my bullshit meter was fully pegged that first night.  There was just a little too much incredulity for me to stomach.?

Monique was silent for a bit, sipping her drink and looking up at the TV just above the bar?s bottle-filled shelving.  The sound muted, Michael also stared at the commentator, not at all worried that he couldn?t hear what the man was saying; it surely being some tragedy or other.  The ribbon along the bottom of the screen showed other news not important enough for the man to actually report on.  Yeah, famine and genocide in Africa, wholesale burning of the Amazon rain forests, Chinese suppression of entire Muslim populations, with a hint of possible ethnic ?cleansing?? all par for the course in human drama, circa 2033.  Finally, following news story after news story that surely depressed entire populations, a relevant topic hit the screen.  Or at least one that the two scientists might find interesting.

Both scientists looked at a stunning view of what appeared to be a very angry Sun filling the screen.  The new caption scrolling along the bottom of the picture informed them that an unusually high number of solar flares had been recorded recently, with the Sun?s photosphere more active than ever before, at least in recorded history.  Still, their continuing conversation had nothing to do with any manmade tragedy or cosmic phenomena being reported in the news.

?Why are you so upset about what?s going on??

?Really?  I know that you are not the most devote of Muslims, but I?m sure you see where all this bullshit is heading.?

?Mike, I have always been a bit troubled by the fact that I was born on Christmas day.  Just as I am sure that you, devote Jew that you are, hated or were at least just as confounded by having that same birthday.  But the highly coincidental fact that both of us were born on the same random date, along with our five colleagues, pales when compared to the mysterious power that has suddenly allowed us to look back at the incident.?

?Yeah, it?s definitely intriguing.  And I?m very interested in getting to the bottom of this mystery.  But do you really think that the celestially highlighted day of our births was a matter of chance?  I don?t, and I certainly don?t like where all of this un-random randomness is pointing.  For all appearances, it looks like someone is trying to endorse one religion above all others.?

?How so?  Everyone knows that December 25th is just an arbitrary day, certainly not the actual birthday of the Prophet Jesus, if he ever existed.?

?Sure, I understand that, but why has the force that has been screwing with the BIG EYE, the Moon, and apparently even the date of our births, chosen such a unique day to center all of its attention?  Christmas Day!  And it doesn?t matter that we know it to be a random day, chosen to coincide with pagan rituals, and now mainly exploited for commercial purposes.  The masses have been conditioned to celebrate Christmas Day, December 25th, as the actual anniversary of Jesus Christ?s birth.  You have got to see the significance of this coincidence.  Can you imagine what will happen if and when this coincidence is revealed to the outside world?  I can already hear the evangelical idiots screaming from the mountain tops while creaming their pants.?

Monique was quiet for a moment.  She took another sip of her vodka, glad that she had upgraded from white wine, her normal beverage of choice.  A glass of wine wouldn?t have done the trick, not lately.  Just as wine wouldn?t have helped when facing the terrors of flying a week earlier.  Impossibly, she thought she still had a bit of a hangover from that air odyssey.  She looked down at the clear liquid quickly disappearing from her tumbler, silently questioning her hair-of-the-dog strategy since.  Vodka probably wouldn?t help quell her anxieties, any more than wine would.  Normally, her inner demons stayed well beneath the surface.  Most of the time, that is.  But lately, cosmic events and certain men reentering her life had rekindled some long-suppressed emotions.  She glanced at the man sitting beside her, allowing her mind to drift a bit from the boring conversation.

?That?s quite a mental image.?

Since coming to Houston, she had rediscovered that Mike was attractive to her on many levels.  However, Monique had also noted that she seemed to lose her cool with him on an almost daily basis.  She must have seemed like a psychopath to the casual observer.  And maybe even more so to any man that she ever allowed herself to get close to.  But she knew the deep-down, underlying cause of her actions.  Trust was a major factor, hell, was the determinant factor, in everything she did dealing with those of the opposite sex.  And in Mike?s case, she wondered if she could ever trust a man who had even more inner demons than she did?

Finally, Monique reined in her mental wanderings and instead concentrated on what Michael was saying, pondering his view of recent events.  She tried to see those events through the prism of her limited knowledge of what made him tick.  Maybe he had his own reasons for his blatant, almost rabid, skepticism.  Unfortunately, she was just tired of hearing him whine.

?Yeah, but accurate.  The evangelists will have a freaking field day when all of this comes to light.?

She looked over at him, and not wanting to fan the flames, left unvoiced some of her own questions concerning the matter.  Like him, she wondered about those strange beams of light that had pierced the occasion of each of their births.  Where had they originated?  And more importantly, why had the seven of them been singled out?  But she kept quiet, not wanting to pour more gasoline on the fire raging in Michael?s head.  Instead, she continued in a less provocative vein, trying to divert the conversation somewhat.

?Maybe.  Did you hear that apparently the BIG EYE slewed back to that Keid system of yours almost immediately after Dr. Vance recorded the instance of our births from 33 years ago?  And even when Thompson had the telescope re-directed to view that black hole 16.5 light-years away, they were unable to hold the line steady enough to pick up Dr. Vance?s ?halo? of boomeranged light.  The program driving the positioning motors just didn?t have the precision necessary to hold the focus on so few photons.  The closest they came was a blurry streak they thought might have been the three-decade-plus image of our younger Sun, with no luck picking out any of the planets.?

?Thompson is a Christian, isn?t he?? asked Michael, totally ignoring Monique?s attempt to steer the conversation to more scientific matters.  Monique just sighed again, shook her head, and took another sip of her drink.

?He is,? answered Dr. Singh, having just arrived in the lounge with Dr. Kam, ?and I am a Hindu, but not to the point that I can?t enjoy a cheeseburger every now and then.?

?Buddhist, here,? said Charlene, who after buying a round of drinks at the bar, joined Singh at the high-top table where Monique and Michael sat.  She pushed fresh drinks at the two of them, slid one over to Ram, and then sat next to Monique.  She turned slightly to get a better view of the TV above the bar.

?Wow, take a look at the size of that solar flare!?

The three other occupants at the table took a moment to look up at the flaming arm looping away from the Sun?s surface.  The caption below the screen said that the old IRIS spacecraft, its original two-year mission from its launch in 2013 greatly extended, had photographed the flare.  It was huge; the Sun?s fiery fury unleashed.

?That?s amazing,? said Ram.

?Beautiful.?

?Dangerous,? said Michael.

He figured that a flare that large would really disrupt communications on the Earth, the Moon and throughout the Solar System, saying as much to his small, collective audience.  And almost on cue, the television screen became fuzzy and broken, as the billions of particles generated by that solar flare hit the Earth?s atmosphere and began interfering with worldwide electronic signals and emissions.

?Hey, I just thought of something!  I wonder if that big flare has affected Icarus Base much?  I hope the two astronauts there are safe.?

Charlene was referring to arguably the most adventurous space mission Mankind had embarked upon to date, the establishment of a small, manned outpost on Mercury, the closest planet to the Sun.  Icarus Base was located in the northern polar region there, near the bottom of a deep crater that never saw the light of the Sun.  Way too hot, otherwise.  The personnel manning the base were to be switched out every six months, with the initial cadre just about halfway through their posting.

?I know the ranking astronaut there now, Commander Steve Rasmussen.  Went to high school with him.?

?Really!  What a grand undertaking.  I?ve heard that we are already learning quite a few things about the Sun that we never expected.  Have you been keeping in touch with him, or have you been following the research??

Michael gave a vacillating nod to Charlene?s question.  Why hadn?t he reached out more frequently to his old high school classmate?  They hadn?t been best buds or anything like that back in those days, but they had revolved in similar social circles, both being smart, semi-outcast nerds.  He made a mental note to contact Steve as soon as he could, or at least as soon as the solar flare would let him.

?No and yes,? he sheepishly answered the pretty scientist.  ?I haven?t talked to him since he got to Mercury.  I?m certain that they have been pretty busy assembling and establishing Icarus Base and getting settled in.  Also, the team is only able to converse with Earth utilizing highly specialized equipment, due to continuous communication problems; the likes of which we are all going to have to suffer through for the next few days.  Close as they are, it is a constant battle.  And because of the distances involved between Mercury and Earth, the resulting time lag makes verbal conversations difficult.  Texting is best.  But I have been following their research.  Amazing stuff.  It is a thrilling time to be associated with anything having to do with space exploration.?

?Amen,? said Ram, downing his whiskey and getting up to head to the bar for another.

?Anybody else need a refill??

The other three at the table declined, their glasses from the last round of drinks still almost full.  Monique raised her eyebrow at Michael when he glanced in her direction.  He had noticed a certain chilling of relations between her and Ram as the days had progressed.  Though Charlene and the Indian genius seemed to be getting along swimmingly, he thought.  He wondered for a moment what that might portend for his own future with the beautiful woman from his past, then shook it off.  There were much more important things afoot, and besides, Charlene was still talking, asking him a question.

?So, do you think that they are safe??

?Probably.  Their observation platform is on the rim of a very deep crater, some distance from where their newly constructed living quarters are located.  Those accommodations are pretty far down in that crater, so they are shielded from most of the radiation and the high-energy particle wash that regularly spews from the Sun.  And they also discovered a cave system near the bottom, fairly close to their quarters.  Exploration of the lower cave chambers turned up the presence of water crystals.  Can you believe that they found ice in that cave?  On freaking Mercury!?

Michael recalled a trip he had taken with his family when he was a kid, to a lava field somewhere in either New Mexico or Arizona, he couldn?t remember which.  It was a brutally hot summer, and he had been miserable.  Despite the heat, they had stopped for one of their famous picnic lunches, and he actually thought he was going to melt.  Then they found a small cave in the highly insulating lava and descended just a few meters into it, only to discover that ice still collected there.  It was a magical, and welcome relief.  He figured that his friend was safe from the Sun?s fury, and would not suffer the fate of the Mercury base?s ancient eponym.

?In their last few transmissions, at least those released to the public, they have warned that the instruments measuring activity in the Sun?s corona and photosphere have indicated a high probability of a major solar event soon.  Hell, the event percolating out of the Sun right now, viewed courtesy of the old IRIS probe?s latest transmissions, looks pretty major to me!  The Mercury astronauts had joked earlier that if any of the solar storms got too rambunctious, they might possibly have to abandon their living quarters at Icarus Base and hunker down in that cave you?re talking about.  At least until such a storm passed.  All joking aside, I read that they were considering building some sort of auxiliary, emergency station underground, just in case the need ever arose.  They have even gone so far as to preposition some equipment down there.?

Charlene was obviously very attuned to what was going on throughout the Solar System.  Of course, she was the only one that had sufficient time on her hands to do any idle research.  Michael knew she was also involved with something out in the local community, to at least stay busy.  He hoped that she would find her purpose in the current project soon, before she gave up and went back home.  He liked having her around.

?I didn?t know that they had done that.  But it sounds like a good precaution.  I?m sure they?ll be safe then,? Michael said to her, but he still had another topic on his mind, and switched gears again when Ram returned with his fresh drink.

?Anyway, Thompson is a Christian.?

?Yes, and like I said, I?m a Hindu.  You?re a Jew, Charlene?s a Buddhist, Monique?s a Muslim, and Vance is some sort of mystic, I think.  God knows, pardon the reference, what Brooks is or what he believes in.  Mainly though, we are all scientists first, so it seems that the light that shined on each of us over 33 years ago did so on a merely coincidental date, and had little to do with religion, especially not any particular faith.  Besides, wouldn?t a Christian inspired ?force? have made sure that our little cadre of future scientists would be completely composed of Christians?  Yet among us, we have about 90% of the world population?s belief systems represented, including Christianity.  But Christianity certainly doesn?t make up the majority.?

?That still doesn?t invalidate my point!  Notice that the Christian is the one running the show.  And I?m still not convinced that all of this isn?t some sort of elaborate hoax, with the conversion of most of humanity to Christianity being the ultimate goal.?

?Michael, I will agree that the Christians might try to exploit the timing of this event for their own purposes, but I doubt that Thompson?s motivations are anything but scientific.?

?Ram, it just seems way too convenient that the one discovering the Christmas connection, and all of these other miraculous things, is the only Christian among us.?

?Come on, Mike.  I think it was Vance?s epiphany about haloes of boomeranged light that allowed us to witness our births.  And, who knows what his religious tenants are!  If he even has any.  Besides, Thompson didn?t take control of the BIG EYE in the earlier episode to get it pointed in that particular direction.  Someone, or something else, did that.  Nor did he get the Moon moving lately to discover the other distant black hole.  So, he couldn?t have singlehandedly put some nefarious, cosmic scheme in motion to convert all Mankind to Christianity.  Besides, no one has the ability to move heavenly bodies.  At least, not yet.  Or, at least, not that I know of,? protested Monique.

Michael looked back at the darkhaired beauty for a long moment, and then nodded begrudgingly at the rather popular, at least in the immediate circle, point she had just underscored.  Everything else they had seen or been told of late could have been faked.  Hell, his specialty was data manipulation, so he knew better than most that what you see ain?t necessarily really there to be seen.  But he couldn?t argue with billions of Moon-gazers who had witnessed, with their own eyes, that Earth?s one natural satellite was behaving rather erratically.  With a little effort, he was able to diffidently rachet his angst down a notch or two.

?Yeah, ok, you?re right.  I give up, for now.  But I still remain a little dubious about where all of this is heading.  I?ll hold my peace until we see where that is.  On another note, I can?t wait to update the BIG EYE?s servers and install an advanced version of the data manipulation program I thought of just recently.  The initial version is working pretty well, but I?m sure that once I get all the bugs worked out, the final version will make the BIG EYE servers virtually sing.  It will probably take me a bit longer to get it fully operational, though.?

?You?ll have to wait a while.  Those solar flares will be making a mess of communications between the Earth and the Moon for some time.  I bet we won?t even be able to speak to the Moon team until this latest flare?s particle bombardment subsides,? said Ram.

?So, what are we supposed to do?? asked Charlene, exasperated by his observation.

?I guess our jobs, whatever those might be??  Michael chipped in.  ?I still have a lot more work to do on my software program before it?s totally ready for real-world implementation.  And, beyond that, I could still use a little rest to get over my lingering Alaska to Houston jetlag.  Hell, it?s been over a week, right?  Don?t know why it?s taking me so long to acclimatize to Central time.  I must be getting old.?

Monique filled them in on a new device she was working on that might wring a few more photons out of whatever the BIG EYE was viewing.  And Ram told them that he had been discovering some mighty peculiar anomalies with the nearest black hole, and even the far one, compared to the singularity that he had discovered before all hell broke loose.  Poor Charlene was the only one that felt she was just spinning her wheels, and she was pretty disheartened by her situation.  With nothing to do at the Space Center, she had found a parallel pastime to one she followed at home; helping out at a local home for the hearing-impaired teaching sign language and lipreading.  Still frustrated, she lent voice to her fears of late.

?I don?t know what I?m doing here!  What is my ?job? in all of this?  All of you are contributing.  Not me!  I?m a linguist, and a communication specialist.  On a professional level, I speak seven languages and can decipher a good many more, ranging from Egyptian hieroglyphics to ancient Aramaic script.  But what does any of that have to do with black holes, haloes, and this improbable lunar behavior of late??

?Ram just said it.  We are experiencing communication difficulties, and are likely to suffer more, as the Sun seems to be entering a rather active period.  Maybe you are meant to figure out a way to somehow deal with such problems; before they derail all of our efforts.?

?You know, Michael, you just might have something there.  My communications specialty isn?t really on the technical side, but your suggestion is the closest I?ve even heard to anything that might explain my purpose in all of this.  Thanks!?

Michael saw a slight glimmer of hope shine through the doubt on her delicate face.  And he noticed that her gaze lingered on him a bit longer than necessary, as though she was studying him more closely than the others.  He shook off the slight discomfort it caused him.

They sat and chit-chatted for a little while longer, but surprisingly, the main focus of their conversations, after repeatedly beating the dead horse of recent celestial events, turned out to be Dr. Vance?s appearance.  Though none of them had been in contact with him all that much since that first evening over a week earlier, his aspect had obviously made an impression on all of them.  Charlene brought it up first, but Monique quickly chimed in.  She was totally weirded out by his pasty skin and corn silk hair, and actually found herself shuddering when she mentioned his piercing blue eyes.

?He looks like some sort of alien being,? she said, ?with those eyes of his burning a frosty hole in your soul whenever they deign to focus upon you!?

Charlene was nodding along with Monique?s words, looking at the two men at the table.  She seemed to be looking for some sort of corroboration from them.  She looked to Ram, first.

?Creepy, right??

?I can?t really say.  I have never met him; actually, have only spoken to him a few times on the phone.  So, it?s hard for me to disparage him solely on the way he looks.?

?He?s really a very nice guy,? offered Michael, after Charlene, disappointed with Ram?s evasion, looked at him for confirmation.  Then he continued, realizing his endorsement sounded a bit lame.  And ended up sounding doubly lame.

?I?ve worked with him a number of times over the years, and recently have dealt with him extensively on the Keid Solar System investigation.  We have been in pretty steady contact for almost eighteen months, first using Hubble, and then the BIG EYE telescope, once it returned to full operational status.  I have never found him alien in any way.  Granted, his looks are a little startling at first glance, and he can be a bit quirky at times, but all in all, I kind of like him.?

CHAPTER 12

?Somebody wrecked my work.?

Monique was standing behind her chair, hands on hips, foot tapping, with steam coming out of her ears.  The rest of the scientists were with her, all seated at the conference table in the same room just off the Lunar Control Center where they had gathered when they first arrived in Houston, almost three weeks earlier.  They were all surprised by her announcement, having thought that the quickly convened meeting had something to do with the Sun?s behavior of late.

Even though the solar storm, which they had first seen in the Hilton bar, had continued to grow and now might threaten Mercury, the communication problems of the last fortnight had finally subsided, without any contribution from Professor Kam.  She was more than a little disappointed that she had been unable to help minimize the sunspot?s staticky interference in any way.  In her mind, her purpose in all of this was still unfulfilled, and actually unidentified.  She was certain that Director Thompson had to have been questioning his decision to include her in this endeavor, despite the circumstances surrounding her birth.

The billions of energized particles released almost two weeks previously by the Sun were now doing nothing more than manifesting their dwindling presence in a spectacular show of Aurora Borealis and Aurora Australis.  Most of the associated static had subsided and the Houston team members were again able to effectively converse with the lunar-based cadre.  Thompson and Vance?s faces filled the video screen on the wall at the end of the conference table.

?What happened??

?Director, this morning I discovered that all my efforts for the previous couple of weeks have been for naught.  The prototype for my new device has been destroyed.?

?How could that have happened?? interjected Tony Brooks, visibly upset.  He was not as enraged as Monique, but deep concern furrowed his brow.

The only non-scientist of the seven person Christmas band, more often referred to simply as the chosen, felt that he was responsible for keeping the Earth-bound members of that group focused on their tasks.  Not that any of them really knew what their tasks were, other than possibly improving the BIG EYE?s capabilities to facilitate a better view of that singularity 1000 light years distant.  Michael thought that Brooks was doing a great job herding the bunch of nerdy cats which he had apparently taken responsibility for.

?I don?t know.  I suppose anyone with access to this facility, and then to my lab, could have done it.?

?And you?re sure it wasn?t an accident, or some sort of mistake??

?It was neither of those, Director.  I was working in the lab that Tony set up for me in the building next door.  I?m developing an electrostatic system for the BIG EYE; the one I told everyone about that first night at the Hilton bar.  With precision probably being a key requirement for this venture, I figured that any way to keep even the smallest particle of dust off of the BIG EYE?s lens surface would be very beneficial.  And while investigating that endeavor, I discovered a possible enhancement to the BIG EYE?s capabilities that might also be realized.  You?ve seen my designs and my calculations.  I had progressed quickly in the device?s development, was already in the small-scale mockup stage, and was just a couple weeks out of actual implementation.  Everything was set, with the mockup fully assembled, and ready for a test run.  I finished up late last night.  When I arrived at my lab this morning, my entire apparatus had been dismantled.?

?I?ll look over the security tapes.?

With that, Tony grabbed his clipboard and was out of the room like a shot.  The remaining members of the group looked at one another quizzically.  Neither Thompson nor Vance seemed all that nonplussed by Monique?s disclosure, Tony?s announcement, or his subsequent hasty departure; though that could have been because of the inherent delay in lunar communications.  Monique glared at Michael when he looked at her, much to his puzzlement.  What the hell had he done?  Dr. Singh was the first to speak.

?Security tapes?  I had no idea that we were under surveillance.?

?Routine observation.  There are cameras everywhere.  What century are you living in, Ram??

?Well yes, Charlene, I guess I knew that there would be cameras.  I just didn?t know that we were specifically under scrutiny.?

Michael pondered his colleague?s discomfort.  He wasn?t too happy about being under surveillance, himself.  Not that there would have been all that much to see, at least not in his case.  Just an obsessed maniac incessantly pounding away on a computer keyboard.  The idea of non-consensual observation seemed a bit invasive, though.

?None of you are being watched.  Not specifically.  But like Professor Kam just pointed out, in this day and age, and at least for the last few decades, there have been cameras monitoring just about everybody?s every move.  Samuel, what do you think??

On the monitor, Thompson turned toward Vance.  The enigma?s visage just continued to stare into his camera, his intense blue eyes on the conference room monitor piercing every psyche in the room.  None escaped the feeling that his penetrating gaze was directed at each of them, personally.

?I don?t see any reason why anyone would want to disrupt our efforts.  And, I have a feeling that the powers-that-be wouldn?t appreciate such interference.  Or for that matter, would even allow it.?

?But it happened, so these powers must not be so omnipotent as you presume,? Michael said, surprised that Vance had been so unobjectionably taken in by the puppet masters, whomever they might be.

Before the white-haired enigma could respond, Tony swept back into the room.  He went to his laptop on the conference table, slipped a thumb drive into a slot in the side and hit a few keys.  The view on the wall-mounted monitor switched, the face of Thompson, and thankfully that of Vance, quickly dissolving away.  A view of what looked like a darkened room containing a jumbled mass of machinery replaced the fading visages.  The camera taking the video was apparently recording from a vantage point high up on the wall of Monique?s temporary laboratory, near its ceiling.

?Professor Nader?s laboratory, last night,? he announced.  ?This sequence was taken a number of hours after you left for the evening, Professor.  You can see the time-stamp there in the top, right-hand corner, counting the passage of time, minute by minute.?

The scene was a bit hard to decipher, the room fairly dark.  Not much happened for some time, and then suddenly, the apparatus on the desk near the center of the room was abruptly scattered into hundreds of pieces.  After the instantaneous movement, the video continued, uninterrupted, all still.

?What just happened?  Magic?  Divine intervention??

Monique was in absolute shock, her perfectly symmetrical face registering her incredulity.  In that moment, Michael decided that she had to be the most beautiful woman in the world.  Funny how revelations like that happen at some of the most inopportune and inappropriate places and times.  He shrugged off his reverie and looked closer at the video.  Even as he grasped what must have happened, Brooks was already rewinding the video and explaining what had occurred.

?Please pay attention to the timestamp on the video as I move back and forth over the exact moment of the anomaly.  You can see that the time registers 0211 Central Standard Time one moment and then 0212 the next moment.?

?Well, sure, couldn?t that mean that a minute was just ending and another beginning when this happened??

?Yes, it could, Director.  And that is exactly what it does record, or appears to record.  Whoever did this probably wanted us to come to that very conclusion, chalking this event up to all of the mysterious manipulations that seem to be occurring on a regular basis.  However, I measured the length of the ?minute? starting at 0211 on the recorded video.  It was only 35 seconds long.?

Everyone was quiet for at least as long as that shortened minute, pondering the implications.  Michael guessed that some of them were considering that it could have been some mystical manipulation, but he wasn?t buying it.  He knew that there had to be a logical, non-magical, non-divine reason for the event.

?Somebody must have rushed into the room, quickly dismantled Monique?s work, and rushed out, all in something less than 25 seconds.  And then, they subsequently altered the video record to hide his or her crime.  Is that even possible?  If it is, we have a very calculating, capable, and determined saboteur in our midst,? offered Michael.

?You are correct.  But that is what must have happened.  I?ll review the videos of any other cameras that might have recorded the movements of our mystery saboteur, but I?ll wager that all of them will show nothing, as well.  And my guess is that some of the ?minutes? in those recordings will not quite be a full sixty seconds long.?

?Like Mike just asked, how could all that be possible?  I mean, how could someone know that my work had progressed to the point that I was about ready to do operational testing?  And how could they access the security cameras?  And then be able to manipulate their recordings??

?All great questions, Dr. Nader.  I will do my best to find answers to all of them.  I promise you that,? said Brooks.

The screen on the conference room wall once again shifted to a view of Director Thompson.  Doctor Vance was no longer visible, and he had apparently moved away from the camera?s field of view.  Michael, though innocent of any wrongdoing, wondered why he felt relieved by Vance?s absence.  He wondered if everyone else in the room felt the same relief.  He again shook off his own thoughts to listen to what the Director was saying.

?I know that you will, Tony.  Now, for a very brief status report on the current events.  Some unnamed force is still controlling the Moon, keeping the motionless BIG EYE perfectly fixed on that anomaly out about 1000 light years away.  We still don?t know how that is being done, who is doing it, or even for what purpose.  Using the initial version of the data manipulation program that Michael provided us shortly after he flew into Houston from Alaska, we have made some progress.  The view from the BIG EYE now shows a much clearer representation of the distant black hole.  A halo is visible around that far singularity, much like the one discovered around the closer black hole.  Michael, great job on that, by the way.?

?Thank you, Director.  I?m tweaking that same software now with some advanced AI protocols, and I think I might be able to get at least another magnitude of refinement done.  The resulting resolution, when combined with the enhancements Dr. Nader mentioned earlier, should be nothing short of spectacular.?

?That would be fantastic.  Right now, we are picking up a clear aura, or halo, emanating from around the distant singularity.  It is very dim, and we have not been able to achieve anywhere near the resolution that facilitated our witnessing our own births thirty-three years ago.  That is to be expected, I believe, considering this other singularity is so far away.  Using advanced parallax techniques, we?re still trying to gauge how far out the black hole is.  The distance is so great, though, that we may never get a totally accurate reading on that.?

?So really, we are no closer to understanding what the hell is going on, or why, than when we arrived in Houston almost three weeks ago.?

?No, Michael, we aren?t.  We can only hope that Monique?s new device, and your computer program improvements, will resolve that faint halo into something we will be able to observe.?

?I have faith that it will.?

The voice came from the distance, somewhere behind where Thompson was standing on the Moon.  The Director started a bit at the words.  For some reason, Michael found the words haunting.  Not threatening, but somehow prophetic.  He again shook off this strange train of thought, and glanced at the rest of his colleagues in the room.  All of them seemed to be mildly disconcerted by Samuel Vance?s off-camera pronouncement.

CHAPTER 13

The next day started out like any other day of late, with a bang.  But one that apparently only went off in Michael?s head, so far as he could tell.  He may have been wrong about that, but there was really no way of knowing.

He was making a video call to Samuel Vance about the problems that were plaguing them down in Houston.  It was mid-morning at the Space Center, and Monique was busy trying to duplicate and reassemble the electrostatic device that had been destroyed.  Meanwhile, Tony Brooks was frantically looking for the perpetrator of that destruction.  Michael had no idea what either Dr. Kam or Dr. Singh were up to.  As usual, the time lags in their conversation were a nuisance, but from years of practice, they were both able to pretty much ignore them.

?Director Thompson isn?t all that concerned that someone down on Earth sabotaged Dr. Nader?s device.?

Michael didn?t think that Vance looked too concerned, either.  What a strange egg.  He personally was greatly alarmed that someone was interfering with their efforts, no matter how at odds he was with their apparent origins.  Then again, Thompson and Vance were over two hundred thousand miles away, and thus were immune to intrigues that probably couldn?t touch them.

?Really.  Why not??

?He took a leap of faith, if you will.  He?s already begun full scale production of the major components of Dr. Nader?s device here at our lunar fabrication facility.?

?What!  Why would he do such a thing?  Even Monique, though she is confident it will work, concedes that the theory behind her device is totally untested.?

The pale scientist on the screen was silent for a few moments, longer than that required for the radio waves to traverse the distance between Earth and its sole natural satellite.  Finally, he looked up.

?In Director Thompson?s opinion, since Dr. Nader?s device will provide the BIG EYE with the further magnification enhancement that he thinks we will need, then he believes it will work.?

?That?s ridiculous!  I don?t think Monique, despite her optimism, even has all the bugs worked out.  Deploying an unfinished, untested system is lunacy.?

?I?ll ignore the perhaps unintended pun, and will reiterate my earlier point.  It was a leap of faith.?

?Ok, I give up.  Just make sure you tell Dr. Nader about Thompson?s leap at your earliest opportunity.  I personally don?t want to tell her anything that might upset her, so I?ll leave that to you.?

?I?ll make sure that she is informed.  Regardless, I think the mockup there in Houston still needs to be completed to ferret out any design deficiencies.?

?Thus, the need for a mockup before going full scale.  Never mind; what?s done is done.  On another note, I spoke to Tony Brooks about his investigation into the subterfuge.  He said that the video recordings from the other relevant cameras around the facility were inconclusive.?

?He predicted as much.?

?Yes, and he also discovered that some of the ?minutes? in those recordings were actually a bit less than a minute long.  Apparently, they had been edited, like the recording from Monique?s lab.  This saboteur is quite thorough.?

?He told me all about it earlier today when I called him for an update.  Why were you talking to him about this matter?  Don?t you have other, more important tasks to keep you occupied??

Vance asked a valid question.  Michael guessed that the real answer was that he was more concerned with remedying the angst Monique was feeling, than anything else.  He left such admissions unspoken.  He knew that line of thinking was not very professional of him, but it was what it was, and it was none of Vance?s business.  But other events were, so he proceeded with the reason for his call.

?I do.  In light of what happened to Dr. Nader?s project, I decided to perform an audit on the work that I have been doing of late.  This morning, when I accessed the BIG EYE?s mainframe computer, where the majority of my work and my recent adaptations were being stored, I found that the data manipulation algorithms I had just finished modifying had reverted to a previous version.?

On the video screen he saw Vance nodding slightly.  Michael trusted that Samuel was not the instigator of this recent meddling with his coding, or of the vandalism of Monique?s work in Houston, having built up a fairly good rapport with the mystic over the time that they had been working on the Keid project.  And it was an obvious matter of logistics that the saboteur of Monique?s project had to be somewhere close.  Unless the white-haired genius was working in tandem with an Earth-bound accomplice, he had no worries that this conversation was unwittingly with the very mastermind of some mysterious espionage ring.

?So, you think somebody erased the newer code in your latest data enhancement program.  Could there be any other explanation??

?No.  Nor is this the first time something like this has happened.?

?It isn?t??

?No, when I attempted to open my files a couple of days ago, to do some final tweaking before bringing the latest improvements of my program online with the BIG EYE, it wouldn?t even boot up.  I tried a couple of times, from a couple of different terminals.  When that didn?t help, I opened up the code itself and started looking for the glitch.?

?Did you find the problem??

?The program contains over one million lines of code.  I employed advanced Artificial Intelligence tools to write most of it, and I used the same AI to comb through the code for problems.  It would take forever, maybe longer, to find the glitch on my own.  I figure that whoever messed with my coding is probably pretty adroit at hiding things.  We?ve learned the extent of their capabilities from their skill at manipulating the video recordings here in Houston.?

?Agreed.  So, you didn?t find the problem??

?No, not then, or today.  I actually would have been totally lost on both occasions, had I not kept a backup copy of the program in a flash drive that I keep on my person at all times.  I update that record every evening after finishing my day?s work.  Without my flash-drive, I would have had to start all over again.  Including my latest modifications, at least a year?s worth of effort would have been lost.?

Michael pulled at the bobble that he wore around his neck at all times.  It looked like a shark?s tooth suspended in an amber cube, the yellow-white object highlighted by an ebony backdrop on one side.   He told anyone that saw it that the tooth was from an ancient seaborne predator, but that wasn?t true.  It was actually a souvenir he had kept from a bout he had with kidney stones a few years earlier.  He still marveled at how he was ever able to pass the relatively large, jagged piece of calcium from his body.  Then again, women were able to have babies, and in his mind, that miracle absolutely defied every law of physics.  The tiny, 10-terabyte flash-drive was inside the amulet?s black backdrop, behind the yellow-white tooth.

His reverie was shattered by the bang that Vance chose to deliver at that moment.

?That would have been truly inconvenient.  How can we witness Jesus?s birth properly without the heightened resolution your program will allow??

?Come again?  Whose birth?  Jesus?s?  What are you talking about?

?Well, it makes sense, right?  You, Monique, Derek, Salman, Charlene, and Tony were all born on Christmas Day, the exceptional circumstances of the event becoming observable only through manipulations by some mysterious force.  I think that we can safely assume that this same force will want us to view something similarly unique that happened around two thousand years ago.?

And that?s when the big bang went off in Michael?s head.

He had already been upset about the coincidental timing of their births, especially with such apparent Christian inferences.  Having some unknown force picking Christmas Day to highlight the event was bad enough, but now this.  He kicked himself in the head for not putting the obvious two and two together more quickly.  What better way to show the world that Jesus was real, and the Christ, than showing his miraculous birth?  He found himself becoming livid again, as usual.  He really didn?t know why these revelations bothered him so.  Perhaps his absolute disdain for God had something to do with it.

?When did you come to this conclusion??

?Of witnessing Jesus Christ?s birth?  Actually, pretty early on.  The directed discovery of the black hole 1000 light years away, when coupled with the now established boomerang effect of such singularities, pointed to a fairly narrow timeline.  And Jesus?s birth fits that timeline rather conveniently.?

?And all of this doesn?t bother you??

?Why should it??

Michael stared back at the enigma looking at him perplexedly from the videophone?s small screen.  Why should it, indeed?  He didn?t know a thing about Vance?s spiritual tenets or religious beliefs.  He thought he remembered Ram saying that the alabaster-skinned freak-a-zoid practiced a sort of mysticism, or some such.  But how the hell did Singh even know that?  For all any of them knew about the man, or even one another, he could worship the devil.  Who really knew the inner machinations of any of their fellow travelers?

He forced himself to calm down.  In reality, Michael couldn?t give a hoot about what the man worshiped, if anything.  Or what any of the others believed or didn?t believe.  He respected him as a scientist, and in doing so, concluded that he was just stating facts and drawing conclusions from those facts.  The rational side of him could respect that, while not necessarily liking it.

?You?re right.  What you just said makes sense.  A lot.  Given that, it appears that if we are somehow able to pull all of this off, we could very well witness the actual birth of Jesus.  But what are we going to see?  What?s going to differentiate his birth from any other at that time?  Three wise men hanging around a manger, carrying around a bunch of heavenly wrapped Christmas gifts?  A glorious multitude of angels singing?  A gaggle of shepherds talking to some unidentified, supposedly angelic figure?  Archangel Gabriel talking to Mary?  A guiding star?  Maybe all of the above?  Most importantly, what would any of that prove, anyway?  And how much resolution will we actually have?  If it?s only as good as when you showed us our births on Christmas Day thirty-three years ago, I don?t think it will be too convincing.  If that?s the case, we will actually need to see that multitude of angels flitting around!?

?A multitude of angels?  Singing?  No, we won?t see that.  And Gabriel, that blowhard?  He got to tell Mary she was to bear God?s son, and then didn?t even show up for the actual event.?

Michael thought Vance was scoffing more at the number of angels that would be revealed at the birth, than at the magnitude of the event that the mysterious force was providing Mankind.  And why was he dissing Gabriel so much?  He figured that he would never understand the man.

?Who knows what the motivation is for all this.  The only thing I know for sure is that no grand revelation from the distant past is going to change my beliefs.  Or anybody else?s, for that matter.  Wouldn?t be enough, not by a long shot.?

Even on the small screen, he could see that Samuel Vance looked a bit taken aback by his remark.  His face?s normal deadpan aspect was actually conveying the human condition of puzzlement, perhaps even surprise.

?Really?  Why not??

?Obviously, you know that these days just about everything can be faked.  It?s not too hard at all to manufacture a miracle in our advanced digital age and splash it all over the news, with unsuspecting viewers gobbling it up as gospel.  Sometimes, I actually yearn for the good old days, maybe even that ancient Biblical era, when it was much easier to believe, to have faith.  When God didn?t mind tossing out a few actual miracles every now and then to keep humanity in line, while at the same time assuring the masses that there really was a higher power warding Man?s trials and tribulations.?

Michael stopped his tirade.

Samuel was staring at him from out of the small screen, unmoving, now a slight hint of consternation creasing his brow.  The moment stretched to the point that he thought that maybe the transmission had been interrupted somehow, that the videophone had frozen.  He was just reaching out to give the device a rap on its side, when Vance slowly started nodding his head.  And wonder of wonders, was that a slight half-smile he saw tugging at the man?s pale lips?  No, that wasn?t possible.  In all the time he had known him, he had never seen him so much as grin.  Now, though, there did seem to be some sort of amused air to his demeanor.

?Point well taken, Michael.?

?Regardless, it looks like we?ll have about nine months to get our ducks in a row.?

?How so??

?Well, what is today, March 22?  No, wait, it?s the 23rd.  So, in about 9 months, unless my math is really suffering, it will be Christmas.  And the halo, once we?re able to massage the signal it contains, might very well reveal the birth of Jesus Christ, in all its mystical glory.  That means we have three quarters of a year to do whatever the powers-that-be want, or need, for us to do.?

?Actually, Michael, I think we would only have less than half a year, or so, based on your premise.  The actual birthdate of Jesus Christ is thought by Biblical scholars to be sometime in September, most likely the second day of that month, not the December 25 that history has marked as the Holy date.  Not that such a precise timeline is even in play here.  This black hole that the BIG EYE is now staring at is ?approximately? one thousand light years away.  So, what are a few months, years, or even decades when you really think about an astronomical distance such as that??

?You?re right!  There?s no way we can accurately say that whatever hodgepodge we gather from the haloed light will even be the actual birth of Jesus Christ.  Could be anyone, anytime, anywhere!?

?Yes, that could be the case.  Except for the overwhelming evidence that whomever is manipulating our telescope, even our very Moon, is surely going to be able to pinpoint exactly whose birth they want us to see.  Whenever that is.?

?Ok, ok.  I give up.  I?ll talk to you later.?

Michael, sitting before his portable computer over two hundred thousand miles from the Moon, was exasperated.  Though he had never embraced his Jewish heritage, the overwhelmingly Christian bend this whole endeavor seemed to be taking really bothered him.  And he was tired of talking with Vance, whose pronouncements, observations and reasoning had his psyche whipping back and forth like a reed in a thunderstorm.  He once again forced himself to calm down.  Doing some figuring in his head, he deduced that they had just over five months to get the job done, if having humanity witness the birth of Jesus Christ on September 2nd was the mysterious force?s ultimate goal.  He was just about to reach out and terminate the connection when Vance started speaking again.

?Did Tony Brooks tell you what else he discovered in his investigation??

?No, not that I recall.?

?He told me that, on a whim, he contacted the Hilton where you are all temporarily residing, and was granted permission to examine security footage for last evening, around the time when the sabotage occurred.  The camera on the floor where Dr. Kam and Dr. Nader are staying is inoperative, so could tell no tales.  The one on the floor where you and Dr. Singh are dwelling was a bit more revealing.?

As the two talked, something unusual began to happen on the planet two planetary rings from Earth; the consequences of which would not become evident for some time.

CHAPTER 14

?We are going to have to go deeper.?

Steve Rasmussen rechecked the latest readings from the instruments that he had just finished calibrating.  He was more than a little concerned with the figures he had been retrieving for the last fifteen minutes.  This latest solar flare was not adhering to established norms so far as birth, lifespan, and death for sunspots were concerned.  It was still growing, and not falling back to the Sun, as such phenomenon normally tended to do.  The Sun?s gravity was nothing to be trifled with, but this flare seemed to be totally ignoring it, and had taken on a life of its own.

The radial arm of boiling plasma had continued to push farther and farther away from the Sun and out into the Solar System, growing and intensifying as it went.  Steve was fairly certain that it would soon engulf the tiny rock that they had called home for the last three months.  His partner in crime looked up from the instruments she had been calibrating, equally concerned with what she was seeing.  She had a fairly good idea about what Steve was hinting at, and she definitely wasn?t too happy about that scenario, either.

?Don?t know if that?s possible, boss.?

Paula Ismail, the other Mercurial astronaut, knew that Steve was alluding to the ?Cave Option? that they had jokingly referenced ever since they found the heavily insulated cave system a few weeks after arriving on Mercury.  They had even gone so far as to move an emergency generator into the cave, along with some of their supplies, and other equipment they might need to survive.  She understood that even though the Cave Option was mentioned mostly tongue in cheek, Steve must have thought it might become a necessary evil.  Else, why had they moved all of that equipment into the underground sanctuary?

Paula had initially discovered the cave when her foot had suddenly plunged into a hole while she was exploring their local environs.  Upon further investigation, they discovered that she had actually stumbled upon what appeared to be a fairly large cave complex near the bottom of the crater where Icarus Base had initially been established.  The entrance to the cave had been partially hidden by a small mass of boulders, which they had easily been able to scatter, due to their superhuman strength.  Those powers had been afforded them because the gravity on Mercury was only about 40% that of the Earth.  Each of them could easily lift well over two and half times as much weight as they normally could on their home planet.  Paula liked the amazing power she seemed to have on Mercury.  Back on Earth, she was considered to be a rather petite lil? lady.  She liked playing Wonder Woman for a change.

Beyond the cave?s entrance, once the boulders had been removed, was a rather narrow tunnel that continued for about ten meters, roughly following, but slowly diverging from the sloping wall of the crater above it.  It then took a seventy-degree turn, and dropped steeply for another ten meters before it opened into a fairly large cube-shaped cavern, measuring ten feet on the side.  When they first entered that cavern, they found that the walls, ceiling, and floor were covered with a crystalline substance that shimmered like a million fireflies as their flashlights played across those surfaces.  Later testing showed it to be crystalline water ice.  Near the floor, at the farthest point from where they entered, they discovered yet another opening, too small for a human to pass through.

They had sent in a small robot to see what lay beyond, but its signals had ultimately been lost, along with their capability to control it, presumably because of the density of the rock it traveled through.  Before it stopped transmitting, it was able to show them that the tunnel just past the small opening widened significantly, and that the cave structure beyond appeared to be quite extensive.  They couldn?t figure out what mechanism had caused the underground system to develop in the first place, and geologists back on Earth were anxious for them to explore the possibilities as much as they could.  They had attempted to widen the opening off of the cube shaped chamber on a number of occasions, but had ceased their efforts when the massive sunspot that now occupied their complete attention had appeared.  Their primary duties took precedence over amateur spelunking.

?I think we?re going to have to find a way.  Take a look at these readings, and look at these latest images of the flare.  It isn?t dissipating at all.  If anything, it?s intensifying.  Significantly.?

They were outside of Icarus Base, recalibrating some of the equipment on the viewing platform.  It was hard to do much fine-tuning, their suits bulkier than most, due to the more strenuous requirements of Mercury.

?That can?t be right.  It?s just a larger-than-normal solar flare.?

?It may have started out that way.  Now, it?s on steroids.  A very large amount of coronal mass has joined the party and is being expelled.?

?No way,? she exclaimed.

?Way.?

She took a look at the portable monitor and began working the figures they had just taken from the array of instruments on the lip of their crater.  She was trying to either confirm or debunk Rasmussen?s assessment.  In the past couple of months, they had usually only ventured outside Icarus Base habitat to calibrate their instruments and to fine-tune the small, yet powerful, thermal telescope that they were using to take all of those magnificent images being beamed back to Earth.  That and to do a little spelunking in their mysterious caverns, that is.

Soirees outside the thick-hulled habitat were kept to a minimum, as the Sun continuously spewed forth a stream of high-energy particles and dangerous radiation.  And this latest solar flare was a doozy.  Originally, it had looked like it was going to swing out to a distance just shy of Mercury?s orbit and then harmlessly fall back to the Sun before they passed.  Sure, they would have been inundated by billions of high-energy particles, and exposed to a significantly increased amount of radiation, but nothing the thick leaden walls of their habitat couldn?t handle.  Icarus had been designed and built to withstand hell?s fury.  But that scenario was no longer the one about to be played out, if they could believe their instruments.

?Let?s get back into Icarus and confirm these figures.?

?Ok, but I don?t think we should dally.?

They packed up their portable calibration tools, leaving the wide array of freshly fine-tuned instruments on the platform situated on the lip of the crater, pointing at the fiery subject of their posting.  The habitat was only about forty meters down from the edge of the crater, so it didn?t take them too long to scurry back to the relative safety of those leaden walls.  As Paula put away their gear, Steve shucked his spacesuit and immediately began banging away on his computer, inputting all of the latest data that they had just collected.  Once she was done stowing the gear, Paula joined her fellow astronaut, standing behind him and looking over his shoulder to see what he had discovered.

?So, what?s the verdict??

?Not favorable.  Look here,? he said, momentarily glancing back at her from the screen.  Gently resting one of her hands on his shoulder as she looked at the screen, Paula could see that he had developed a fairly demonstrative, graphic model in a very short period of time.  In the model, the inner planets seemed small compared to the massive plasma arm that was rising from the Sun.  The model on the screen showed that the coronal mass ejection (CME) was expanding quite rapidly.  Mercury was on the far side of the Sun from Earth at present, with Venus being about ninety degrees further along in its orbit, roughly equidistant from both of the other inner planets.  He stepped through the timeline projections for Paula, showing the mass slowly growing towards them, spouting from the Sun as it rotated, and expanding like some behemoth spiraling tidal wave that couldn?t be stopped.  The CME was obviously going to intersect Mercury?s orbit very shortly; with devastating consequences.

?How long??

?About sixteen hours from now.?

Her eyes widened in shock.  So little time!  To do what?

Steve prepared a series of files for the burst transmitter to shoot off towards the Earth.  The device was like an old Teletype machine, on amphetamines.  The information had to be truncated into very short, but highly concentrated bundles of bits and bytes that wouldn?t be so easily scattered by the ever-present, highly energized, solar winds.  He reformatted all of the files, photos, and associated findings into as short a message as he possibly could.  Then he encrypted that and sent it off to NASA.  He also sent a copy to his old high school buddy, as he knew that Michael would be just as interested in Mercury?s problems as he was in the lunar anomalies.  Besides, Steve knew that this might be his last communication with anyone.  Just before he sent them, he appended a short message to the end of both transmissions.

?MAY BE NECESSARY TO ABANDON ICARUS FOR CAVE SYSTEM?

He toggled off the program and stood up.  Steve felt a bit disingenuous about the current situation.  He wasn?t sharing all of his thoughts with everyone.  He didn?t show Paula his more far-reaching projections of the CME?s expansion, as he had arrived at them by postulating a scenario based on the plasma storm?s current observed intensity and rate of growth, which he felt couldn?t possibly be maintained.  Nor did he send any one on Earth his misgivings about the scope of the CME?s possible expansion.  The reasoning for his recalcitrance was that his more distant projections were not factual, but mostly intuitive, and thus very speculative.  And though to most he had always been considered a bit of a pessimist, he had strenuously objected to the term.  In his mind, he was actually more of a realist than anything else.  This one time, he was wishing that all those previous accusations concerning his pessimism had been correct.  He especially hoped that his current pessimism would be shown wrong, though that had rarely happened in the past.

?Will we be safe here in the Icarus habitat??

?I wish I could say that we will, with any degree of confidence, but I would be lying.  The sheer volume of the CME being expelled makes it likely that the plasma will smash into Mercury with more force than a million hydrogen bombs.  I think that most of the planet?s surface perpendicular, or more directly in the path of that storm will be scoured away.  Icarus Base is located at Mercury?s North Pole, and our habitat here is hidden well below the crater?s rim, but I don?t think that will keep it from being heated beyond a human?s capacity to survive.  And I?m not even addressing the trillions of energized particles that will be smashing through everything when that plasma arm washes across the planet.?

?What are we going to do??

Steve sat silent for a moment longer, though the urgency of the situation required an immediate response.  As senior member of the team, that responsibility rested solely on his shoulders.  The thought of abandoning Icarus Base almost made him physically ill.  But he was fairly certain that they wouldn?t survive the coming storm by hunkering down in their lead-lined habitat.  It would become more like a lead-lined coffin, with them boiling within its walls.  He stood up and turned to Paula.  For the first time in the two years of training with her, traveling through space with her, and then working with her on Mercury, he noticed that she was quite an attractive woman.  Funny how times of absolute stress made one?s brain stray in such irrelevant directions.  Some sort of defense mechanism, he supposed.  He quickly shrugged off that train of thought.  There was really only one thing that they could do, if it were even possible.

?We are going to try and survive.?

He reached out and pulled her close to him.  The hug that he gave her obviously shocked her at first, as her body was quite ridged, and he could feel her wanting to pull away.  Slowly though, she relaxed, and he felt her melding into him, her hug even becoming stronger than his.  Both of them were quiet and remained still for a long moment, just two humans knowing that they were likely going to die soon.  She seemed incapable of words, or of letting him go.  He felt the same.  She finally pulled away from him, taking quite some time to let go.  He was the first to once again find speech possible.

?Paula, please gather all of the supplies that you can find, especially the portable oxygen generators, the water separators, and the food replication equipment.  I have no idea how long we will have to remain in the cave.?

?So, you think the cave is our best bet??

?I do.?

?You?re the boss.  What are you going to be doing while I?m gathering all that equipment??

?I?m going to take the thermal charges that we have left from when we dug the Icarus Base?s foundations and I?m going to try and open up that choke point beyond the cube shaped cave that you discovered.?

?All right.  Be careful with those explosives.?

?Roger that.  Look, we don?t have too long to build a survivable new habitat down in the cave, and then to get everything stowed there.  Keep pushing for as long as you possibly can.  My timeline might not be as favorable as I calculated.  Regardless, I?m sure that I?m going to be able to break through that neck and get way deeper into that cave system.?

?How do you know??

?If I can?t, we?ll die.?

Four hours later, Steve returned to the original Icarus Base habitat, barely able to move.  He had first used almost all of their remaining thermal charges in an attempt to expand the choke point.  They had proven insufficient.  So, he had moved on to Plan B, which required him to spend most of his time wielding a pickaxe to widen the hole, and then clear out all of the resulting rubble.  Without his super, Mercurial-enhanced strength, the task would have been impossible.  He wasn?t totally satisfied with the result, but he was finally able to form an opening large enough to accommodate their spacesuit-clad bodies.  He scurried back to Icarus.  As he re-entered the habitat from the airlock, he was surprised to see all the progress that his fellow astronaut had made.  He surveyed the large mound of equipment, supplies, and other material that nearly filled the habitat?s main chamber.

?You?ve amassed quite the collection here.?

?You really didn?t give me any idea how long we might need to stay in the cave, so I grabbed just about everything that wasn?t tied down.?

?I didn?t tell you how long, because I really don?t know.  But I think you?ve got everything that we?ll need.  Let?s leave most of this here for now though, and you come with me to see what?s beyond the bottleneck.  Then we can make a final determination on where we will make our last stand.?

They grabbed a few items that they thought they would need, and returned to the cubicle cave structure where Steve had spent the last four hours.  There was a new pile of rubble in the far corner.  The enlarged opening there was plenty big enough for each of them to pass through single file, dragging all the gear that they were hauling with them.  Past the opening, as their tiny robot had shown, the tube-like passageway widened significantly.  They walked for over fifty meters, the tube twisting this way then that, often at right angles.

?Looks like this tunnel goes on for a while,? Paula said, a few steps behind Rasmussen.  She played her flashlight around all about the sides of the tunnel they were descending.  And descending they definitely were.  About ten meters into the descent, they found their tiny robot, its wheels jammed in a small fissure in the floor.  How did this cave, with all of its twists and turns, ever form?  She found herself getting as excited as those Earth-bound geologists about the geomorphology of the cave system.  All of the surfaces were covered with frozen ice crystals, sparkling under the beams of their flashlights.

?It looks like its opening up ahead into a fairly large chamber.  I can see a main cavern, with a few abutting caves.  I think this might be perfect.?

She followed him into the new cavern, and immediately had to agree with his assessment.  The main cave was about twenty by twenty with a twelve-foot ceiling, and had two smaller wings, about ten by ten each.  Those caves were very similar in size to the first cube-shaped cavern that they had discovered.  The floor was relatively flat and level.  She thought it would be the perfect place to hunker down.

?I like it.?

?It?s not like we?re picking out an apartment.?

?Speak for yourself.  This might be the last place either of us ever lives.  And I kind of like what it has to offer.?

?No running water.  No plumbing.  No windows.?

?But it?s ours, Steve.  It?s all ours!?

She batted her eyelashes at him, which was hard for him to see through their space suit visors, but he got her drift.  They both laughed.  In truth, the place would be perfect.  He figured it was plenty deep enough, beneath layers of rather dense bedrock, to provide protection from the coming storm.  At least he hoped it would.

?Yeah, right.  Please hand me the plastic emulsifier.  I?ll start spraying all of the walls so that we can get an airtight barrier.  We can rig some sort of airlock system there behind you, in case we have to venture out much.  No need to waste oxygen.  The plastic will take about two hours to set, which should leave plenty of time for us to finish transferring the remainder of that pile of supplies you scrounged topside to here.?

Five hours later, they had finished their new refuge and moved all of the supplies into their new habitat, the plastic having set nicely.  Rasmussen had placed heaters in the walls, and partitioned the two small wings off of the main cave into sleeping areas, so that they could each get some privacy.  All in all, he was very satisfied with what they had cobbled together.

He left Paula setting up the equipment and supplies while he went back out to the viewing platform to access the situation.  As soon as he got there, and looked over the rim, he realized that he had been overly optimistic about how much time they had before the solar flare struck Mercury.

It was already there.

Or, at least, very nearly so.  He started dismantling just about everything on the platform, quickly losing track of time.  He was constantly looking up at the sky, and with no real frame of reference, he had no idea how close the hot plasma was getting.  Finally, he grabbed as much of the equipment as he possibly could, including the telescope and burst transmitter, and then hustled back to the cave opening.  He just about ran down the slope, through the initial cube shaped room, then through the twisty tunnel to their new habitat.

Arriving there, he saw that his fellow astronaut had been very busy.  Their new habitat now had a simple airlock, constructed out of a few panels that Paula had obviously acquired from their old hab.  Thankfully, she had not started oxygenating their new hideaway, so he didn?t have to slow his descent too much when he entered her makeshift airlock.

?It?s time.  Here is everything I could carry from the platform.  I grabbed the telescope, transmitter, and a lot of other instruments.  I don?t think they would survive the CME if we leave them out on the platform.?

?Sounds good.  How long do you think we have??

?Less than an hour, I think, probably much less.  Sorry, I have to go back out.  I want to run a line out through the cave complex to the outside and set up a small, sheltered, video camera.  I?ll face it towards the instrument platform and our now deserted habitat, so that we can monitor what the CME does to Icarus Base.  I think that we can stay down in here for quite a while, but probably not indefinitely.  And we need to be able to monitor the outside to see whether we have a home remaining on the surface, or not.?

?Ok, I have two large panels left, so I?m going to rig a couple more doors, one at the outside entrance to the entire cave system, and then one at the cube cave entrance.  I think the more barriers we put up, the better our chances of survival.  Close them on your way back down, after you get done out in the crater.  Then I?ll see if this new, underground, plastic balloon-home of ours will hold air.?

CHAPTER 15

On the other side of the Sun, on an entirely different planet, Michael was once again sitting at the bar in the Hilton, apparently his new favorite place to spend late, sleepless nights.  His back to the room, he stared vacantly at the rows of liquor bottles sitting on the lighted shelves across from him.  He looked down at the few drops of brown liquor at the bottom of his glass.  Sighing, he caught the attention of the bartender, whose earlier, multiple attempts at friendly chatter he had gruffly deflected.  It had been a long day, and he wasn?t in the mood for company.  The barkeep understandably took his sweet time attending to his sole customer.  Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, or so some rule of physics advocated.

He tipped the bottom of his glass skyward as he waited, finishing off the last bit of golden elixir.  Unable to wring another drop from the tumbler, he turned his attention to the muted TV above the racks of bottles.  As usual, there was a ?Special Report? playing out on the screen.  For the last couple of decades, it seemed like everything was either ?Breaking News? or some other sort of extraordinary life or death occurrence.  From the subject matter being aired on the silent screen, Michael could tell that it had to be pretty late at night.  Prime time programming would never have been wasted on a science-related story, especially not a boring repeat anecdote that didn?t have some sort of catastrophe immediately threatening Earth itself.

Like that evening shortly after their arrival, when they had all gathered in the Hilton bar, the screen was once again showing a view of the Sun, this time presumably taken from the distant, manned base on Mercury.  It was beautiful, with a range of sharp mountains in the foreground.  An angry yellow giant burned beyond the peaks.  After a few moments, the breathtaking scene was replaced by a graphic of the inner Solar System, showing the current positions of Mercury, Venus, Earth, and then Mars spinning about the Sun.  A massive spur of some sort could be seen whipping out from the Sun?s surface, almost to the point of intersecting Mercury?s orbit, the tiny planet itself almost directly across the Solar System from where Earth was presently located.  In the striking representation, a composite of Icarus Base?s firsthand observations and computer enhanced data, the plasma spur looked to Michael like it might possibly engulf Mercury very shortly.  The implications of the graphic did not look too promising, at least not for the astronauts hunkered down on that desolate planet.

After that one conversation with Charlene in the bar weeks earlier, Michael had made the effort to get in touch with his friend, Steve Rasmussen, on Mercury.  He had been sure that Thompson, because of his status as the Director of the research facility on the Moon, would be able to arrange for Michael to have some access to his old high school classmate.  The adage, ?it?s not what you know, it?s who you know,? was never truer.  He was granted contact the very next day.  Michael smiled as he attempted to take another sip from his still empty glass.  He disgustingly set the empty tumbler back down on the bar, none too gently.

The communications between the two of them were not verbal, of course, as the Earth and Mercury were currently a little more than 130,000,000 miles apart.  That distance created a staggering impediment to regular conversation, with light and radio waves taking over 23 minutes for the round-trip between the two celestial bodies.  The comparative 2.6-second delay in communications between the Earth and the Moon was a mere hiccup.  They had essentially resorted to disjointed texts to catch up with one another?s lives and current projects.  Of course, Steve was famous, but despite his celebrity, he sounded very excited about Michael?s involvement with all the lunar hoopla, and had quizzed him incessantly about what was going on.  For his part, Michael had learned a lot about Mercury and about the sometimes-violent Sun that commanded their Solar System.

The graphic on the screen looked exceedingly menacing.  Concerned for Steve?s welfare, Michael was just about to ask the bartender to turn up the TV?s volume, when someone gently put a hand on his shoulder.

?Can I buy you a drink, sailor??

He looked back over his shoulder to see Monique standing right behind him, the slightly whimsical curve of her smile completely capturing his attention.  For some reason, his concern for his friend on Mercury vanished in a puff of smoke; the man?s likely fate, based on the ominous graphic on the screen.

?Hi, Monique.  What are you doing up at this hour??

?Up?  Ha!  I just got back from the Space Center.  I?ve been busting my ass trying to reassemble my junk-pile.?

?That?s dedication.?

?Hey, I just want to see if it works.  Don?t you have the same anticipatory excitement whenever you finally turn one of your beta programs into reality??
	?Yeah, I suppose I do.  Lately though, I?m not that excited about how my work is going to be used.?

Monique ignored his comment and signaled the bartender, who hurriedly rushed over to her.  The two of them immediately launched into some friendly flirtatious banter, the barkeep indifferently placing Michael?s refill in front of him without so much as a smile.  Again, Michael sighed, relegated to the opposite reaction he and general physics had postulated earlier.  He took a long sip, watching Monique closely, simultaneously drinking in both the liquor and every aspect of her vibrant femininity.  Even at this late hour, worn out as she must have been, she was stunning.  When the barman finally moved away to fix her drink, Monique turned her attentions back to him, picking up their conversation without any noticeable interruption in content.

?Yes, I?ve noticed.?

Not the warmest overture, but hey, he deserved it.  Even he realized that his demeanor of late had sucked.  But maybe things were looking up.  He was alone in a deserted bar with the most beautiful woman in the world.  How bad could that be?  Then he remembered the plane ride from Denver to Houston just a few short weeks ago.  And then there were the almost daily snarky responses he got from her for some innocuous comment he might make.  Oh, and then the fact that she was involved with Dr. Singh suddenly popped into his head.  He took a bigger gulp of his new drink, and frowned.

?I would try to be better, but it?s hard, considering the circumstances.?

?Oh, not that again.  Mike, you need to get over your problems with this undertaking.  No matter what, this venture is singularly the greatest scientific phenomenon in Mankind?s history.  And we are part of it!?

She was right.  It was all pretty amazing.  And no matter what the motivations for the unknown force?s machinations, the revelations were going to be monumental.  What she didn?t know was that his statement had less to do with BIG EYE manipulations than it did with her relationship with Ram.  Staring at her, he was mesmerized, and it took him a moment to realize that she was still talking.

?? so, I should be just as upset as you, maybe more so.  After all, any revelation celebrating Jesus?s birth, and ignoring that of the Prophet Mohammed, is a definite slap in the face of Islam.  I suppose I should be justifiably outraged, but like you, I am not a devote follower of my religion.  And you are even less a Jew than I am a Muslim.  You just need to get over it.  I know that I have.?

?You?re right.  Let?s not talk about that anymore.  How is your junk pile coming along??

?Disappearing rather quickly, actually.  Rebuilding something is a lot easier than its original construction.  I should be able to do a test of the new system sometime tomorrow night, or the morning after, at the latest.?

?That?s fantastic, Monique.  You are one devoted fanatic!?

?I am.  And excited!  How are you doing with your side of things?  You told us that you were developing a new data manipulation algorithm that was going to knock our pants off.?

What an unknowingly delicious choice of words.  Michael again found himself drifting off into a pleasant reverie.  And he had just remembered that he needed to ask her if Vance had spoken to her about Thompson prematurely starting construction of her device up on the Moon.  However, the images dancing in his mind made rational thought nearly impossible.  This time Monique noticed, and a slight smile tugged at the corners of her supple lips.  When he didn?t answer immediately, she continued.

?Keeping your work close to your chest, are you, Mike??

?No, that?s not it.?

?Not worried that I might be the mysterious saboteur??

?No, of course not.?

Though, in reality, he had no idea who might be trying to undermine all of their efforts.  But he knew that he trusted this woman.  Actually, he trusted everyone involved with the project, at least the seven members of the chosen.  He figured that the culprit had to be someone affiliated with Johnson Space Center; one that definitely had some sort of bone to pick.  It was probably one of the faceless technicians staring at one of the computer consoles there in the Lunar Control Center, jaded by hours and hours of monotonous, boring repetition.  Obviously, he or she was a very capable, faceless technician.

Michael decided to tell her all about what had happened with his own research; how someone had attempted to undermine his work, and how he had ultimately managed to thwart any interference with his programs.  When he started, she looked stunned, reaching out to put her hand on his to comfort him.  He almost went into catatonia at her touch, but somehow, he was able to persevere.  Her grip on his hand grew tighter as he told his story.

?Oh, Mike, that?s terrible.  This pattern of obstruction is much bigger than I thought.  It?s not just me they are targeting.?

?I?m not sure that it?s bigger.  It could still be a single person, a very capable person, responsible for all of the subterfuge of late.?

?Not with commandeering the BIG EYE, or moving the Moon.  You?re not suggesting that, are you??

?No, not that.  But the individual undermining our efforts here in Houston could be trying to prevent us, and thus all of Mankind, from witnessing something quite monumental, something that the distant singularity might reveal.?

Michael turned his hand over, to hold hers.  He was more than pleasantly surprised that she did not withdraw her hand when he did.  He took a deep breath, and pressed on with what had been bothering him since his conversation with Dr. Vance.  Not about the Director?s leap of faith, though he still needed to ask her what she had thought about that.  This was a more delicate subject, and he knew that he had better tread lightly.  He certainly didn?t want to throw out unsubstantiated accusations, of a professional or of a personal nature.  But he had to know where he stood.  Ever since that plane ride from Denver, he had known that he was lost.

?Um, when I was talking with Vance, he brought up something else.?

?Really.  What?s that??

?He said that when Tony was doing his investigation of the recent nefarious occurrences, he was quite thorough.  To an almost annoying degree.?

?How so??

?Tony left no stone unturned in his investigation, and even requested security tapes from here at the Hilton.?

?Uh, huh.?

Suddenly, Michael realized that he was somehow walking on thin ice.  First, he noticed right away that Monique?s hand was no longer in his.  It had disappeared into her lap, like magic.  And second, he thought he discerned that very same ice-like quality in her eyes that he had noticed on that plane from Denver, eons ago.  He glanced over at the bartender, who appeared to be intently listening to their conversation, somehow able to hear their every word, though thirty feet away.  He motioned for another round, and the smug bastard started making their drinks, a mirthless, haughty smirk on his lips.  Michael turned his attention back to the striking beauty beside him.  Even in anger, she was breathtaking.  He forced himself to remain calm.  He rationalized that there was no reason for her to be mad at him.  He wasn?t the one that had been snooping.  With newfound, false bravado, he continued.

?Anyway, apparently the cameras on your and Dr. Kam?s floor are inoperative.  So, there was no information to be gleaned from them.?

?And??

Holy crap, thought Michael.  He hadn?t done a freaking thing wrong, and yet he found himself sweating like an altar boy who had been caught sneaking a couple shots of Eucharist wine and taking a slobbering bite of the host.  Those eyes of hers were more penetrating, and surely more capable of revealing secrets, than the BIG EYE itself.  Maybe even more piercing than Vance?s.  If her abilities could be harnessed on a proportional scale, the very secrets of the Universe could soon be revealed to the world.

?Tony told Vance that on the night that your project was dismantled, Dr. Singh left his room at about 1:00 AM, and didn?t return until just before dawn.?

Monique stared at him for what seemed an eternity.  In that time, the bartender brought them their drinks, gloating at Michael?s obvious discomfort.  How Michael knew this, he could not tell.  There was no way he was going to look away from this woman?s glare.  That was surely the road to damnation.  He was also able to down nearly half of his new drink, without realizing that he had done so.  He had no way of knowing what she was thinking.  After a little while though, he thought he saw a softening in her demeanor.  Oh-so-unperceptively, her lips formed into a slight smile.

?You know, Michael, I was very mad at you.?

?What?  When??

?I thought that you were going to come and visit me in Los Angeles.?

?I was,? he stammered, and then thought better of continuing.  If he spoke, he was sure that somehow, he would mess things up.  Any thought of asking her about Vance?s revelation the day before was forgotten.  He was not ignorant to the fact that she had used the past tense in describing her anger with him.

?Ram and I have become very good friends.  But we were, and are, just friends,? she said.

?But the kiss that first day in the lobby,? he began, but he saw the eyes momentarily flash frosty fire-ice, if that?s possible, and again stopped himself from screwing things up.  No way he was going to bring up the somewhat sexist definition and categorizing of ?friends? he had heard some time ago.  He noticed her hand was back in his.

?We are only friends, Michael.  Nothing more.?

?Okay.?

?But I can solve Tony?s mystery for him.?

?You can.?

?Of course.  Charlene?s room is right next to mine.?

Michael was confused, and as Monique took a delicious sip of her drink, she must have seen that confusion in his expression.  She stroked his hand softly, looking down at it for a moment or two.  Then her lovely eyes looked up at his as she grasped his hand more firmly.

?Dr. Singh is certainly not the saboteur, if Tony was worried about that.?

?He?s not??

?Someone has been keeping Dr. Kam company for many of the nights that we have been here at the Hilton.  And, the walls are not so thin here as they would like you to believe.?

?They?re not??

?No.  But they are thick enough that I couldn?t be sure who was with her.?

?You couldn?t??

?I must confess that I thought that it was you, Michael.?

Before he could protest, she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.  Not a particularly forceful kiss.  Nor a particularly sensitive kiss.  But it was a kiss.  And for lack of a better word, he thought it, sultry.  He was still so stunned by it that he almost missed her signaling the bartender for him to bring her their bill.  She was signing the tab over to her room as Michael turned wide-eyed to look at the barkeep, who was no longer gloating, or smiling.

?Let?s get out of here, Michael.  Dr. Singh and Dr. Kam deserve to find out just how thin this hotel?s walls really are.?

CHAPTER 16

Right about the time that Dr. Singh was finding out just how thin the Hilton?s walls were, and Dr. Kam?s face was turning beet red, realizing that thin walls might just work both ways, Derek Thompson was feeling the urge to bash his own head against the walls of his sleeping quarters.  He had just viewed the final transmission from Icarus Base on Mercury, and was more than a little bit concerned about the welfare of its crew.  Hell, he was beginning to become concerned about the welfare of all of humanity, and his nightly prayers were not providing him the solace and comfort that he normally found in them.  Not that his faith was in question, not by any means.  At least, not so far as anyone else was concerned.  He just hadn?t been provided any heavenly guidance or any illuminating epiphany that would make all of these celestial happenings make sense.  Oh, how he wished for something approaching that.

Although space travel had become pretty common by 2033, especially with the twice-weekly rockets hurtling to and from the Moon, there was still a certain camaraderie felt among those who traveled throughout the void.  It remained a pretty elite group, notwithstanding those space tourists that shelled out millions of dollars to visit the International Space Station, or even more to piggyback on the ships flitting between Earth and its natural satellite.  And then there were those pioneers who had journeyed to Mars to start the first human colony on another planet.  In Derek Thompson?s eyes, they were the true heroes of his generation, venturing out on possibly a one-way mission to expand Man?s reach beyond the planet of their birth.  Regardless, all the men and women involved in the exploration of space formed a brotherhood that few groups could emulate, and when a brother was in trouble, they would go to extraordinary lengths to help.

He jumped up from his desk, where he had been looking at the transmission on his tablet, and called the operations desk for the BIG EYE.  He was tired of spinning his wheels, and equally frustrated with the constant inaction of late.  It was time that he got busy.  The call was answered on the first ring.  Thompson was happy that his people were still on the ball.

?Operations.?

?Director Thompson here.  With whom am I speaking??

?Miller, Director.  Bill Miller.?

?Miller, let?s get BIG warmed up.  I?ll be down to the control room in thirty minutes.  I want all the diagnostics done, and the positioning motors readied for a directed observation.  Find out where Mercury is, and if it?s visible now.  I know it?s been on the far side of the Sun, but I think it should be just beyond the horizon now, and I?m hoping that the BIG EYE will be able to catch a glimpse.?

?I?ll get right on it, Director.  It?s been a slow night.  Hell, it?s been a series of slow nights for going on weeks now, with the BIG EYE just pointing straight up.  Of course, it?s been pretty cool looking at that halo around the singularity.  Dr. Farber?s program has really extended BIG?s reach.  And now I?ve heard that he is working on an even stronger enhancement.  It would be great if we could resolve the halo into a more concrete image of Earth.  Like the one you witnessed from thirty-three years ago.?

?What do you know about any of that, other than the fact the BIG EYE slewed un-commanded to locate that more proximate black hole??

?Well, we obviously learned that there was a halo present then, as we had all seen it before we even had that video conference with Johnson Space Center.  And rumor has it that once you digitally enhanced that previous halo, it actually revealed that you and Vance, along with Brooks and some of the other scientists assembled in Houston, were born on Christmas day.  Well, not the births themselves, but at least some interesting circumstances surrounding your births.?

?Who leaked that information??

?Director, it?s a small base.  We all live in pretty close quarters, and things just plain get heard.?

?Apparently.?

Thompson hung up the phone, got out of his pajamas, and put on his clothes.  He was about to leave when he happened to glance down at the Bible on his bedside table.  It had graduated from its normal resting place in the table?s drawer.  He picked up the worn book, sighed, and then got down on his knees.  He closed his eyes, his lips pursed as he prayed silently.  He rarely asked for God?s direct intervention in his Earthly, or lately, lunar problems, but this time he felt it was justified.  He wasn?t just praying for himself.  He was praying for the lives of two souls stranded on a tiny planet hurtling around a recently angered Sun.  The Director, always a bit of a pessimist, had just a hint of foreboding tickling the very back reaches of his mind.  On that deep, dark level, he understood that he might be praying for many, many more than just two souls.

And he found doubt.

Not because his suspicions on the enormity of the situation might prove true, but he worried that he wouldn?t prove up to whatever task lay ahead.  He had failed before, miserably.  And ultimately, had found himself greatly lacking, especially in the faith necessary to realize the truth.  Was God testing him once again, giving him one more chance to find the correct path; a road he still sought, but just couldn?t quite find?  He remained kneeling for a good ten minutes, until it became evident that no answer to his prayers, no startling insight, no Divine epiphany was immediately in the offing.  He put the Bible down and got up.

He exited his quarters, and began hurriedly walking down the corridor to the BIG EYE control room.  He hadn?t gone far before he recognized a figure coming down the corridor in the opposite direction.  Vance met him and pivoted, joining him in his determined march.

?Director, I was just coming to see you.?

?I figured.  Some hours ago, I got a communiqu? concerning the two astronauts trapped on Mercury.  I know that we can?t do much, but I?m hoping we can use the BIG EYE to better assess their situation.  We can at least take a peek.  Besides, I?m tired of just staring at a halo we can?t really perceive.?

?Great minds think alike.  I think it prudent to evaluate their situation, and at the same time, we need to take a closer look at this massive CME.  It?s apparently going to engulf Mercury.?

?Did you see the latest projections that Rasmussen included in his last transmission??

?Not too promising.?

?No, they weren?t.  And there was something else, Vance.  Did you get the impression from the notes he appended to the report, that the instrument readings and photos he included in the official transmission, were incomplete?  That maybe he was leaving something out??

?Actually, yes.  More accurately, I had the feeling that though he had reported all the particulars, he wanted to postulate something more, but that he was bound to the facts.?

?That?s Rasmussen.  I?ve spoken to Dr. Farber, who was acquainted with him way back in high school.  He said that his friend is a real stickler for accuracy.  According to him, he wouldn't tell you that a house at the top of a hill was blue, even if you were both standing there looking up at it at the same time.  More likely than not, he would only commit to something like, ?the side of what appears to be a structure facing us is blue,? because he couldn?t see the rest of it.  He would never assume anything about the structure in question, even if he had a pretty good idea that it was a house, and the rest of it was painted blue.?

?I admire that.?

?I knew that you would.  But even you felt that he was leaving something out of his last report.?

?Yes, he was.  Is that why you want to task the BIG EYE to investigate the situation on Mercury??

?In part.  With our powerful optics, boosted by Dr. Farber?s latest data manipulation algorithms, we definitely have the right tool for the job.  Depending on the viewing angle, we might even be able to see them walking around down there.  But like you, I really want to take a peek at the Sun, and that Coronal Mass Ejection that is spewing out from it.  I know that the BIG EYE wasn?t designed for solar observation, and certainly doesn?t have the appropriate sensors or filters like some of the other solar telescopes down on Earth.  But it might give us a better idea of how strong the CME spewing from that solar flare really is.  Maybe Rasmussen is too close to the action to really make a thorough assessment of the situation.  Forest for the trees kind of scenario.?

Vance nodded his agreement as the two men hurried down the corridor.  In just a few minutes more, they arrived at the BIG EYE control room.  As soon as they entered, Thompson gave Miller a nod, and the scientist punched the key that started up the massive telescope?s positioning motors.  It began slewing towards Mercury?s current position.  Initially, the tiny planet was barely visible, located just beyond the edge of the Sun?s corona, but as soon as Dr. Farber?s data program began enhancing the image, the dot grew quickly into a visible sphere and then the view changed rapidly, giving them the feeling that they were descending to the surface itself.  Though the view wasn?t ideal, and a number of filters were necessary to make the observation manageable, the BIG EYE was well up to the task of bringing fairly clear images of Icarus Base up on the viewing screen.

The solar storm had reached Mercury.

They were just in time to witness the initial effects of the CME?s torrential blast furnace of liquid-hot material on the Base?s position.  The viewing platform perched on the rim of the crater, with its few remaining instruments, was washed away within minutes.  It was like watching a blowtorch playing over a stick of butter.  The edge of the crater, only somewhat exposed to the raging torrent because of its location on Mercury?s north pole, and thus oblique to the Sun?s fury, fared better.  But not much, as during the next half hour the crater lost more than ten meters of its edge to the maelstrom.  It was horrific.  Icarus Base habitat, nestled further down in the crater, appeared relatively unfazed.

?Are they still in there, Director??

?I don?t know, Miller.  Their last transmission was about fifteen hours ago, and we just witnessed the devastating effects of that solar mass striking the planet.  They had the information that they provided us much longer, and must have been operating under siege for quite some time, preparing for the onslaught to come.  Let?s try and get some sort of reading on the surface temperatures the flare is generating in that crater.  Samuel, can you figure what temperatures they might be experiencing inside Icarus??

?I?ll try.?

Miller, working in conjunction with some of the other team members who were applying spectral analysis to the data from the BIG EYE, was able to ascertain that the outer walls of the crater were being subjected to temperatures nearing 2000 degrees Fahrenheit, two and a half times the 800 degrees normally found at Mercury?s equator.  The interior of the crater was enduring significantly less than that, but the entire surface of the planet was being blasted.  If the CME somehow struck the habitat directly, it would simply dissolve, as the melting point for aluminum was 1221 degrees Fahrenheit.

?Vance, just how hot will the interior of Icarus Base get, subjected to that kind of external temperature?  Mercury has no discernable atmosphere to conduct the heat, but the radiant heat combined with the heat transfer from the rock surrounding the structure must be taken into account.?

?Even if it doesn?t melt, it would not be good.  Non-inhabitable, to be precise.  Icarus Base?s walls are thick, triple insulated, sandwiched layers of aluminum and lead, primarily designed to protect the astronauts from all of those deadly energized particles spewing out of the Sun on a daily basis.  Though built to endure the great temperature swings present on Mercury, it was not meant to protect the inhabitants from excesses of this magnitude.  According to my rough calculations, the air inside the habitat will rise to at least 400 degrees Fahrenheit.?

?And if they stay in their suits??

?They would only have a couple of hours of oxygen.  They could keep changing out bottles, of course, but at that high temperature, once they needed to recharge their bottles, their oxygen generator would likely ignite.?

The control room grew silent with this information.  Everyone now understood that there was nothing that they could do to help their two comrades on Mercury.  And no matter what, it was hard to watch two other human beings perish, even from more than a hundred million miles away.

?Rasmussen said in his last communiqu? that they might attempt to weather the solar storm in that cave that they had found near Icarus Base.  Would that be safer than the habitat??

?That?s unknowable, Director.  But as they were closer to the action, they probably figured out that the habitat was likely to become uninhabitable.  It stands to reason that the cave system was the better bet, with some reservations, of course.  It all depended on how much natural insulation they could expect from the strata around them in the cave, and how deep they would be able to descend into that strata.  The CME certainly did a number on the viewing platform and the side of the crater it rested on.?

?So, we can only hope that they decided to go underground.  And somehow rigged a storm cellar to survive the torrent above them.?

?That is my determination, Director.?

CHAPTER 17

The next morning in Houston, the control room was deathly silent as Thompson relayed the latest update from the Moon, replaying the video of the BIG EYE?s observations of Icarus Base from a few hours earlier.  He first displayed the projection that Steve Rasmussen had provided before going radio silent.  There was a collective groan as the graphic showed Mercury being swallowed by the rising solar flare.  He then switched to the actual footage of the initial onslaught, as viewed and then recorded by the BIG EYE.  Again, there was an audible reaction, this time a pained gasp.

As anguish gripped his heart, Michael looked about the room, and then at his team members.  Monique had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, and Charlene stood open-mouthed, with the whites around her irises equally visible.  Ram?s lips were pursed, his chin jutting out towards the screen, openly defiant in the face of nature?s unstoppable fury.  When Michael looked towards Tony, he saw that he too was looking about, gauging the reactions of those about him.  Their eyes locked momentarily, and Tony gave a slight negative shake with his head.  He was a bit surprised to see a tear tracing down the black man?s cheek.

?Icarus Base is uninhabitable.  The viewing platform is gone, and though the habitat is still intact, it is too hot inside for human survival.  The only chance for the two astronauts is if they decided to evacuate, and then descended into the cave system.  Hopefully they did so, and the cave?s walls somehow shielded them from the wrath of the storm.  We do not know yet if they survived.?

?When was last contact??

?It was about twenty hours ago, Tony.  Mercury has emerged from the CME, which is continuing to extend its reach farther from the Sun.  In a few days, if the flare?s growth continues, Venus will sail through the thickening plasma jet.  While the effects on Mercury were devastating, the results on Sol?s second closest planet will be nothing less than cataclysmic.  Mercury had no atmosphere, while Venus is shrouded in a dense, milky cloud cover.  The atmosphere will boil away within minutes of the Sun?s touch.  It will be left a pitted spinning rock, closely resembling Mercury.?

?And after that???

Tony left the balance of his question unasked.  Everyone in the room was silently brooding, all of them independently coming to the same unimaginable conclusion.  As though to drive the point home, the big central viewing screen in Houston?s Lunar Control Center switched once again to the graphic showing the Sun, with the positions of Mercury and Venus highlighted as they moved along their respective orbits.  The growing plasma storm was shown arcing further and further out into the Solar System.  The simulation showed that Mercury had just continued along its orbit through and then beyond the reach of the deadly CME, with Venus?s orbit next intersecting the rising mass.  That planet had only a short distance to travel before it too collided with the immense, expanding solar flare.

On the graphic, as the second planet in the Solar System flew through the deadly plasma spout, the CME did not stop its expansion at Venus?s orbit.  Thompson was silent as they all looked at the computer-generated graphic.  After a minute, he answered Tony?s unfinished question.

The question that was on everyone?s mind.

?We don?t know.  Except for the old IRIS probe, none of the satellites that we sent out to study the Sun over the last few decades are currently operational.  The data from IRIS is greatly degraded, though it still provides pretty good general views of the Sun?s prominences and spicules.  In recent years, there didn?t seem to be any reason to task any more missions to investigate those massive ejections through the Sun?s transition layer, not with Icarus having been slated to be up and running by the end of 2032.?

?How about the BIG EYE, or one of the Earth-based solar telescopes??

?The BIG EYE was designed to study the farthest reaches of the cosmos, not our closest star.  With the advanced viewing platform on Mercury being planned at the time we were finishing Lunar Base, there was no need to duplicate efforts and give the BIG EYE yet another tasking.?

?And on Earth??

?The Daniel K. Inouye Solar Telescope at Haleakala Observatory would be best, but DKIST is currently unavailable, due to weather over Hawaii.  That is expected to clear in a couple days, but we are not sure if data from any Earthbound instruments will be of much value.  Other solar telescopes about the world have recorded the solar flare, which is still registering brightly on the Sun?s surface, its location just above the planetary plane.  Unfortunately, the future, or anticipated volume of the Coronal Mass Ejection remains undetermined.   The last readings from Icarus were not promising, as the volume of the CME was continuing to increase, but it had not grown to catastrophic proportions.  At least not so far as Earth is concerned.  If the growth of the CME remains at the levels that Commander Rasmussen recorded then, the looping solar arm will run out of steam somewhere halfway between the orbits of Venus and Earth, and then fall slowly back into the Sun as it cools and dissipates.  Hopefully, Steve and Paula somehow survived the initial plasma onslaught, the heat, and the radiation, and at some point, they will be able to give us some idea of the continuing volume and velocity of the CME.  From that, we will learn its likely maximum size and should be able to determine its trajectory.?

?So, what can we do??

?Do??

The video screen in Houston dissolved, replaced with a view of Thompson?s drawn face.  He was staring downward, with a perplexed frown creasing his brow.  For a solid minute he stayed like that, as though frozen.  The control room began to slowly fill with sound as the men and women there began to fidget, impatient for some insight, or better still, some guidance.  No one dared speak.  All eyes were riveted on the screen.  Director Thompson finally looked up.

?Pray.?

CHAPTER 18

Of course, the world was bound to find out.

How do you keep the story of the century, the story of the millennium, secret forever?  Michael was in his bathroom in the hotel early the next morning when he heard a segment about the Moon playing on the television in the adjoining bedroom.  Used to living alone, the door between the two rooms stood open as he completed his morning rituals.  He decided to forego his shower for a moment, flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and walked naked into the bedroom to see what was going on.

The set was tuned to the TrueVision channel.  It was normally the only channel that Michael watched, when he watched TV at all.  His set back in Deadhorse was tuned to the same channel, and like here in Houston, he primarily used it to keep abreast of current events.  Actual current events and reliable content, only.  Not the biased rhetoric from warring media factions that could be found on most of the other channels.  He knew that factual ?news? had taken a steep nosedive about a decade and a half ago.  And with the advent of AI enhanced video technology, it had become very difficult, if not impossible to believe anything seen on television, or anywhere else for that matter.  For the longest time, you could really only believe something if you had actually witnessed it yourself.

And the Internet had become a wasteland of political manipulation, until both sides of the spectrum had realized that what was good for them now, might be turned against them in the future.  The first instinct was for massive government regulation, but Pandora?s Box had already been opened, and the demons were loose on the land.  So, instead of breaking up the Googles, the Facebooks, the Twitters and other social media platforms in an attempt to limit their content and influence, the Internet was totally deregulated in 2023.  And required to respect and promote information with close adherence to total First Amendment freedoms.  Any social media company that was found abridging those rights, favoring one point of view over another, or manipulating searches of the Internet, faced immediate shutdown.  That left the Internet as a freewheeling information source, with little objective use, as anyone could easily unearth multiple views on multiple subjects, and surely find any number that conformed to their particular point of view.  None of which might be true, or based on any facts whatsoever.  But it was better than having a network of news organizations that pandered to public opinion while harboring their own nefarious agendas.  Unfortunately, that left the public at large with nowhere to turn to get honest, reliable information.

Thank God all of that changed with TrueVision, a news station which from its inception had promised to report the facts, and only the facts, ma?am? with little to no editorial comment.  It?s employees, from the talking heads, reporters, writers, secretaries, and even the janitors, took an oath to strictly adhere to that severe mandate, facing termination and forfeiture of all past, current, and future worldly goods, if it was determined that they had shown any political, religious, or even philosophical bias.  Michael sat on the edge of the bed and watched the seven o?clock news unwind.  The commentator, Don Baker, was one of his favorites.

?As a recap of our story some hours ago, scientists in Houston and on the Moon are studying the recent behavior of our nearest celestial body with great interest.  As has been previously reported, the Moon began moving erratically on February 27, 2033.  An unknown force seems to be manipulating the Moon?s rotation, causing it and the BIG EYE telescope there to focus on what appears to be a singularity, or black hole, located approximately 1000 light-years from Earth.

TrueVision learned yesterday that this manipulation might not be unique.  Apparently, another force, possibly of the same origin, but that has not been verified, had previously taken control of the BIG EYE telescope itself, on 23 December 2032, and forced it to focus on a black hole just sixteen and a half light years from Earth.  Two days later, this manipulation allowed scientists to somehow observe the location of the births of seven individuals thirty-three years ago, on Christmas Day, 1999.

At this time, TrueVision is trying to confirm a report that the newly discovered black hole, some 1000 light-years distant from Earth might similarly enable scientists to witness the birth of Jesus Christ.  This is only conjecture at this time, and should not be taken as gospel, pardon the pun, until further information becomes available.?

While the Baker spoke, Michael saw his own photo flash quickly across the screen, along with those of his six birthday-sharing cohorts.  It was a bit disconcerting to hear his name and see his face on television.  He had always preferred anonymity.  He listened for a few more minutes, but apparently that was the only substantive content TrueVision had about the Christmas births at the current time.  He doubted that the story of the seven of them sharing the same birthdays, even if it did happen to be on Christmas day, would cause too much of a splash with the public.

However, he was very pleased that the network was not really reporting anything about the Mercury situation or the epic coronal mass ripping through the inner Solar System; the real story of the century.  The view of that crater wall being blasted away was etched in his mind.  He was still a bit shell-shocked from Thompson?s presentation the day before, and his misgivings.

So much so that he had been tempted to follow the Director?s spiritual advice.

But in the end, forsaking the suggested prayer, he decided to just persevere.  As though the fate of Mankind did not hang in the balance.  There was nothing he could do about a rogue solar flare.  As he finally got up to take his delayed shower, he heard a soft knock on his hotel room door.  He muted his TV, put his towel around his waist, and walked over to his door.  A quick glance through the peephole brought a big smile to his face.  He opened the door and let Monique into his room.  She gave him a big hug and a long, lingering kiss.

Soon, his pleasure at seeing her became readily apparent.

?Damn it.  I just took a shower, and put on my makeup? she said, ever observant, and pushed him back onto the bed.  After some time, most of it quiet, but some perhaps annoyingly loud to the adjoining rooms through thinnish walls, he sat up in bed and looked at the beautiful woman languishing beside him.  She had a satisfied smile resting on her face.

?Why didn?t you come to Alaska??

?Why didn?t you come to Los Angeles??

They both laughed as she nuzzled his chest, her hand venturing further south.  At least they were having fun making up for all the lost time.  Though new, Michael had noticed that their lovemaking seemed almost frantic.  As though it had a limited shelf life, or that it might all end soon?  He hoped neither, but he conceded to himself that he was a bit of a pessimist.

?Did you see the news this morning??

?Yes, and they used such a lousy photo of me to show the world.  I was mortified.?

?No photos of you could ever possibly be called lousy, and you know it.?

?Oh, you?re so sweet.?

?Uh, huh.?

?At least they didn?t say anything more about Mercury and the solar flare.?

?So far.  I thought the fact that first the BIG EYE, and now the Moon, have been mysteriously commandeered by some unknown force would carry the most weight.  But, no.  I mainly watched TrueVision, but I scanned some of the other channels and a lot of them are really making a much bigger deal about the coincidental Christmas angle.  Some are happy about it, but the majority of them don?t seem to like it at all.  I?m surprised you aren?t watching one of those channels, one whose reporting is more in line with your beliefs.?

?I like my news plainer, and more factual.  Baker on TrueVision fits the bill.?

?Hmmm,? she said, her hand getting more animated.  Did she think he was a teenager or something?  Besides, they had to catch the shuttle to Houston Space Center in pretty short order.  He said as much to her.

?I need to go take a shower.  We don?t want to be late for whatever the day has in store for us.?

?I?ll join you!? she said, jumping up from the bed.  ?No need to wear any makeup, anyway.  I?ve already lured my quarry to its doom.?

Under the steamy jets, they soon discovered that her hand apparently had powerful rejuvenating powers.  Afterwards, they took a long luxuriating shower, both pleased that they were in a big hotel with a big water tank, the hot water never dipping so much as a degree.  As they lathered one another with the hotel?s fancy scented soap, Monique resumed her commentary on the recent news.

?Some networks are touting the anticipated revelations of the BIG EYE as the Second Coming.?

?Oh, Jesus.?

?Exactly.  As a Muslim, I?m still not too ecstatic that a prophet other than Mohammed is getting all of this attention.?

Michael concentrated on washing his hair, mindful to keep his own misgivings from coming out once again.  Monique had chastised him enough on his objections to what he still considered would turn out to be some sort of Christian manipulated proselytization scheme.  Of course, he was having some trouble reconciling the actual movement of heavenly bodies with any sort of scam.  And, it wasn?t lost on him that his enhanced data manipulation software program would likely be very instrumental in allowing the world population to view the distant past.  He was extremely unhappy that he might somehow be enabling and perpetuating what he believed would ultimately be revealed a hoax.  It had to be some sort of artificial intelligence gambit.  Michael was convinced that AI would lead to the downfall of all Mankind.  He was of the opinion that the exponential growth of artificial intelligence?s computing capabilities would cause Man?s usefulness on Earth to diminish to the point that Man himself would become totally superfluous.  And he wasn?t too happy that his research was greatly helping to cement that eventuality, as well.

?So, do you still really think that through our efforts, we will somehow see the actual birth of Jesus??

?I don?t know, nor do I really care.  Despite what I just said, I?m just happy to be part of this momentous endeavor.  I?ve said it before.  I just wish there was something we could do for those two on Mercury.  If they survived.?

?Me too.  But I have to admit that my hopes for their safety run a bit on the selfish side.  If they are still alive, then maybe they can take a close-up look at all of that solar material rushing past Mercury, and reassure us that it is diminishing, or cooling, or decelerating or something, and that the prominence will fall back into the Sun soon.  And will no longer be a danger.  You know, Steve Rasmussen, that astronaut friend of mine at Icarus Base, texted me all of his measurements at the same time he sent them to NASA.  It was exactly as Thompson presented, but the Director left out some of Steve?s commentary at the end.  He never said as much, but Steve?s finishing remarks were filled with foreboding.?

?You could have kept that to yourself!?

?Sorry.?

?I already felt that Thompson hadn?t sounded all that optimistic.  And his parting shot about praying kept me up more than half the night.  That?s why I left here at 2 AM.  I didn?t want to keep you up with all of my tossing and turning.  I only fell asleep once I realized that he never actually said anything bad was going to happen to Earth.  Nor did he specify what we should be praying for.  Now you have to go and make it worse!?

She yawned as she stepped out of the shower, pulling a big luxurious towel about her body.  Michael felt quite refreshed, having slept more soundly than he had in weeks.  He stepped out as well, vigorously drying his hair with his towel.  In short order he had his undershorts on and left the bathroom to get dressed.

?Yeah, my bad.  I shouldn?t have said anything.?

?You?re forgiven.?

?Thanks,? he said, glancing at his watch.  ?Hey, we need to hustle if we want to catch the shuttle.  No time for breakfast this morning.?

It only took him a few minutes to finish dressing, and she was ready shortly afterwards.  Not having to deal with makeup and getting all prettied up greatly decreased her preparatory time, a fact he wisely kept to himself.  They left his room and made it to the elevator and then down to the lobby in no time.  When the doors opened, they were a bit surprised to see how crowded the large room was, so early in the morning.  Ram scurried up to them as soon as they got off the elevator, apparently lingering nearby in anticipation of their arrival.  A throng of people shouting unintelligible questions followed close behind him, and became more animated once they saw Monique and Michael exiting the elevator.

?It?s a madhouse down here,? Ram shouted, to be heard over the general din.

?Why, what?s up??

?Are you kidding?  I know that you must have seen the news this morning.  Well, maybe not, as you two might have been busy attending to other priorities,? he said, his eyebrows arched in what seemed to be amusement.

Eyes twinkling, he continued, ?One of those lovely news stations leaked that we are staying here at this Hilton.  If you think this lobby is crowded, you should see outside.  There?s a couple of hundred people out in the parking lot and on the hotel grounds, and the mob is growing larger by the minute.?

?Where?s Charlene??  Michael asked, and then, with a wave of his hand, he withdrew his question.  Rising up on his tiptoes, he could see that she was over on the far side of the room, standing in front of a group composed mainly of what appeared to be children.  Like many of the other individuals and groups wandering about the lobby, her chosen gathering carried a banner in front of them.

WILL JESUS HEAR US THIS TIME?

?Charlene?s been over there since we got down here, and she?s been conversing with them for more than thirty minutes.  Those kids caught her eye as soon as we entered the lobby this morning.  They?re a group of deaf and mostly mute children from Houston?s Heavenly Home for the Silent.  She had told me that she did volunteer work for another group of disabled kids near where she lives in Galveston, so I figured that was why she gravitated towards them.  Made sense; they reminded her of that other sanctuary.  Well, I was wrong.  It turns out that she has been spending time at the Heavenly Home for the Silent ever since we all first arrived in Houston.?

?That?s great,? offered Monique.

?I have to agree.  She has an amazing rapport with those kids.  Almost spooky.  And I?ll tell you one more thing; she is really talented at signing and non-verbal communication.  It was a bit unnerving for me, though.  I didn?t like standing around while they were all conversing with one another in absolute silence.  Not that it?s been all that silent downstairs, so far.  Once Charlene immersed herself with those kids, I left her alone, and began walking about, fielding the questions everyone has been firing at me, and providing as much information to as many people as I could.  I?m glad reinforcements have arrived, that?s you two by the way, but I think we should all get on the shuttle to Johnson Space Center as soon as possible.  Most of the people you see down here are fairly friendly, but there?s been a certain tension growing of late, slowly tainting this room?s atmosphere.?

The three of them walked across the room to where Charlene was ?talking? to the children.  Many members of the throng they encountered as they passed through the lobby shouted questions, which they tried to answer as best they could.  Though most of the time the crowd parted like the Red Sea for Moses, Michael sensed that growing agitation in the room that Ram had alluded to.  He could relate.  It didn?t take too long for him to tire of saying, ?We don?t know.?  He wished he had more to offer them, but he just didn?t have the answers these people were seeking.

When they reached the area where their colleague was holding court, Ram went up behind Charlene and gently tugged on her arm.  She glanced over her shoulder at him, saw Michael and Monique just beyond, and nodded.  She immediately turned her attention back to the children.  Michael was immediately captivated, watching her silently communicate with the group.  It seemed that just about every one of them was mouthing and signing messages to her, all nearly simultaneously.  Apparently, she could multitask like a supercomputer, and quite effectively.  All of the highly animated kids had smiles on their faces.  Finally, she finished gesturing, placed her hands together with a slight bow, and bade farewell to her young audience.  With only a momentary flash of disappointment at her departure, the children resumed smiling, waving goodbye as she joined her fellow scientists to walk towards the exit.

After making their way through the growing mass of people in the lobby, the four of them pushed through the hotel?s main doors.  Somehow the crowd of people outside didn?t see them, or failed to recognize them, and they were able to slide into the waiting van and into their seats undetected.  There was an abundance of signs and posters being carried by the people outside of the Hilton, just as there had been in the lobby; and a good many tall white crosses were in evidence.  Most of those assembled seemed quite serene, but as the shuttle neared the driveway, Michael could see that the fringes of the crowd were quite agitated.

They managed to speed away in their van without incident.  The traffic on the thoroughfare leading to the Hilton was at a standstill, but their side, moving towards the Space Center, was virtually empty of vehicular traffic.  As the Hilton was actually only about eight minutes? walk from the boundary of Johnson Space Center, their daily ride to the far side of the property normally only took about five minutes.  This morning, though, the van started encountering traffic as soon as it turned onto the road that led to the main entrance.  The traffic volume steadily increased and their speed continued to drop, until they were moving at a crawl.

?Wow, I guess I was wrong.  I definitely underestimated the impact of some unknown force highlighting our Christmas births thirty-three years ago,? Michael said, admitting the error from earlier in the morning.

?One of the stations I was listening to, the one I told you about that gave away our location at the hotel, is calling our births a New Christmas Miracle.?

?Of course, they are,? said Michael, disgustedly.

?This is amazing,? said Monique.

?No, this is crazy,? said Charlene, peering out of the van?s windows at the people in the cars creeping alongside them.  Most of the occupants of the cars were quite animated, singing and clapping their hands.  They seemed joyous, but some were definitely not too pleased with the New Christmas Miracle.

Finally, a few hundred yards from Johnson Space Center?s entrance, the traffic flow came to a complete halt.  Up ahead, they could see flashing blue lights on the top of some law enforcement vehicles, presumably at the turnoff.  A large crowd of people, maybe a few hundred strong, had formed between them and the gate.  He could hear their chanting through the van?s closed windows.  Michael got on his cellphone, which he noticed he had accidently left on do not disturb from the night before, and called Tony Brooks.  He answered on the first ring.

?Michael, where are you?  I?ve been trying to get hold of you all morning.  For some reason, yours is the only number I have!?

?Yeah, sorry about that.  I just noticed that I had left it on silent.  I?ll try not to do that anymore.  Listen, we?re in the hotel van, stopped a bit South of the main entrance by a large crowd, maybe a couple hundred yards away.  We can see a bunch of blue lights just ahead.?

?OK, I?ll get law enforcement to come and get you.?

Before he could protest, Tony hung up.  They could easily have gotten out and walked to the entrance.  The crowd didn?t seem that unruly.  Still, they waited a few minutes.  Up ahead, one of the dark police SUV?s suddenly left its position guarding the facility entrance and turned toward where they were stuck in traffic.  The people in the crowd begrudgingly made room for its passage through their ranks.  The vehicle?s siren coming on helped with the dispersal, but was overly loud in the still morning air.  As the SUV made its way toward them, some of the people whose vehicles had come to a halt got out and gestured at it.  Some, not so happily.  They saw that many were offering the international sign of good luck, their middle finger thrust rigidly in the vehicle?s direction.

?Our new ride is here,? Michael called out as the SUV pulled up on the shoulder of the road alongside the hotel van, its siren blessedly fading.  He was the last one out of the van and jumped into the car?s back seat, next to Monique.  The vehicle immediately turned around and wove its way back to the entrance, leaving the surface of the road a number of times to avoid cars and groups of roving people.  When it reached the outskirts of the crowd, the siren came on again, attempting to disperse it.  It was not as effective as before, and from his limited view in the back seat, Michael thought the driver was being a bit aggressive.  Looking out the side windows at the people they passed, he saw that most of them were angrily yelling at them.  He couldn?t hear what they were saying, but they certainly weren?t ready to embrace or to celebrate the New Christmas Miracle.

Just as they turned into the entrance and a security gate was lifted to allow them in, the rear window of the SUV exploded into a million pieces, raining tiny cubes of glass down on both Michael and Monique.

No, this was not a friendly crowd.

CHAPTER 19

?Crap.?

Things were getting more than a little bit scary at Witch Mountain.  The week following the SUV?s window breaking incident had been fairly quiet at the Space Center, with everyone falling into a routine working on their respective projects.  Michael wasn?t sure what anyone else was doing, but he had pretty much finished his latest program, and was starting to look at yet another idea that had been percolating in the back of his mind.  Not that he cared that much about what he had just finished, or what he might accomplish in the future.

He was really enjoying the time he was spending with Monique, both at the Center and at the Hilton.  But he had to tread carefully.  She was prone to mood swings that he could never see coming.  When they occurred, he would rapidly find himself back on the flight out of Denver to Houston, wondering how the hell to get off that ride.  Fire and ice were never separated by much.  He sensed that Monique had something in her past that kept her on edge.  Something she had yet to share with him.  He loved her spirit, but he was getting a bit skittish around her, always wondering when something he said or did would unleash the witch.

The crowd outside had swollen to a few thousand by that Saturday, and April Fool?s Day had passed with only Michael feeling they were all behaving like such.  The next morning, April 2nd, they arrived at the Space Center without incident, having ridden in a heavily armored vehicle that now provided transportation for the scientists.  No rocks or bricks pelted them.  The National Guard had also gotten involved, and was keeping the crowds at bay around the entire complex, with the perimeter pushed quite a ways back from the Hilton, Johnson Control Facility, and the adjoining roads.  From a distance, they observed that the people making up the crowd amassed beyond that perimeter appeared passive enough.  But the mob had definitely become more agitated from when it had first begun to accumulate.

Similarly, around the rest of the world, the reaction to the New Christmas Miracle was not universally one of love and understanding.  Michael spent a good amount of time monitoring TrueVision storylines in the evenings, and was growing more and more concerned with what he was seeing.  Of course, the heavily Catholic Latin American countries were celebratory, along with the few remaining enclaves of Christianity in Europe.  The Vatican was thrilled.  The citizens of North America were less than totally exuberant, as evidenced by the split crowds growing around Johnson Space Center.  Most of Asia and all of India seemed to want to ignore the whole business.  Africa was too busy trying to feed itself to bother with cosmic events.

But to many locales throughout the world, even the smallest potential link between Christianity and the latest celestial happenings was pure heresy.  The people from those areas were not happy at all, nor were their governments.  TrueVision didn?t report any specific internationally backed threats, but some of the other channels claimed that certain countries were demanding that the United States cease all space exploration immediately, and that NASA be disassembled.  Michael wondered if the new military presence around them was for crowd control, or more because of some new worldwide threat.  Regardless, that Saturday he was just relieved to get onto Johnson Center property, out of the vehicle, and into the complex, unscathed.

That relief was short lived.

?Crap,? he said, again.

Michael and Monique had just entered her makeshift lab when Michael repeated his one-word expletive.  Opening the door, they straightaway discovered that there had been yet another incident.  They moved slowly toward her work area until they stood right beside it, looking down on the mangled mess that was, or had been, the rebuilt mockup of her project.  Michael heard a slight gasp from the doorway, where he saw that a wide-eyed night watchman had peeked his head in to take a look.  It was d?j? vu all over again.  Her device had been torn asunder, totally destroyed, with pieces and parts strung all over the linoleum floor.

?How could this have happened again??

He just shook his head, unable to give her an answer.  Ever since the first nefarious episode in the lab, Tony Brooks had made sure that a guard was posted just outside its door, round the clock.  And security everywhere had tightened dramatically since a week earlier, when that rock had smashed the rear window of the police SUV they were in.  Michael was perplexed at the unexpected turn of events, but unfortunately, he was all too familiar with the pattern that now seemed to be unfolding.

It was a scenario that had played out all too frequently in modern times.

For the last decade and a half or so, not so lovingly referred to as the Post-Trump Era, or PTE, every issue of any sort that came to the general public?s attention was dissected, weighed, evaluated, amplified and then manipulated by warring political camps to gain some sort of advantage.  The election of Donald Trump to President of the United States began a cycle of mistrust and hysteria that even the most reasonable observers could find no way to break.  Michael couldn?t see exactly what benefit or advantage either camp was vying for here, but it was obvious that the current dueling mobs were making this into a religious issue.  At least he thought it was.  One side was all a tizzy over what it considered might be the ?second coming? of Jesus Christ.  The other believed it was all an intricate hoax, and much ado about nothing.  Though he shied away from most conflicts of any sort, having finally emerged from his own dark hermitage and found his passion in the stars, Michael had to silently agree with the latter faction.  Like him, that side was objecting to what appeared to be a case of religious favoritism.  That mirrored his feelings from the beginning, particularly his misgivings about the Christian aspects of the current lunar behavior.

Unfortunately, the ideological conflict and its possible ramifications must have triggered some fanatical zealot within Johnson Space Center.  Once reason had left that perpetrator?s troubled brain, he had obviously been prodded into unjustified malfeasance.  Belief was a strong motivator for both good and evil.  From the Crusades to the Spanish Inquisition, religion had been used countless times over Man?s relatively short, civilized period to make it anything but.

In recent decades, religious expression of any sort had become a flashpoint for unrest worldwide, predating even the PTE.  True, that unrest had ramped up significantly of late; the long siege against Christian and Jewish values and beliefs steadily amplified by a swelling anti-religious world population.  Conversely, the Islamic canon had flourished during the same time period, and if that autocratic dogma, as wielded by the fanatical fringes of that sect, were mistakenly identified as a religion, then faith, on balance, was actually spreading.  Michael doubted if many older Europeans or Australians would call that particular ideology spiritual by any measure, as the millions of Muslim refugees, once their numbers tipped the balance of power in their favor, established sharia law in all of their newfound homelands.  Muslims had overrun much of Europe and Australia in the last half decade, and had once again set their sights on America, the bulwark of the PTE having finally faded.  But such geo-spiritual and geopolitical matters were well beyond Michael?s bailiwick, or even his concern.  The world be damned, he knew he was falling in love with the beautiful Muslim woman standing next to him.  And someone was messing with her.  He would have none of that!

?I don?t know, but Monique, I can assure you that everything is going to be fine.  First, let?s call Tony and let him know about this.  And then?.?

?Fine?  Everything?s going to be fine??

Monique twirled about to face him, fire in her eyes.  Uh-oh, he should have kept his mouth shut.  Michael knew silence was the correct reaction.

?How the hell can you possibly say that?  Are you looking at the same mess that I am?  And I?m sure the security guard has already notified Tony.?

?Monique, didn?t Dr. Vance contact you this past week?  About what Director Thompson?s doing?  He said that he would ??

At that moment, Tony Brooks swept into the room, a visibly shaken guard at his heel.  The poor soul looked like he really regretted calling his boss about this latest break-in and subsequent vandalism.  Michael didn?t have a chance to finish his sentence, as Tony was loudly interrogating the uncomfortable looking guard.  He and Monique moved back towards the door, letting the two men by to survey the damage.  The security guard was getting an earful, and they didn?t want to add to his discomfort, though they listened intently.  As Tony passed him, Michael sensed something amiss, but couldn?t quite put a finger on it.  He kept glancing over his shoulder at Tony and the fidgeting guard.

Finally, the berating finished, the security guard slinked from the room, head hung low.  He offered a muted apology as he passed them, and exited the lab.  They walked over to the worktable, where Tony still stood, taking notes on his trusty, ever-present clipboard.

?I?m so sorry this has happened again.  Simpson says he only left his station for a very short time, for a quick bathroom break, and I believe that was probably the case.  Can?t really blame him, as perhaps the night shift is overly long.  The perpetrator had to have been monitoring the lab very closely, though.  He must have rushed in as soon as Simpson left his post, did all of this, and then rushed back out, before the guard returned from the restroom.?

?That had to take some patience, precise timing, and really quick work once the opportunity presented itself,? Monique said, somewhat incredulously.

?Yes, and it means that the saboteur already had to have been here at Johnson Space Center to accomplish the task.  With the military having cordoned off the facility, access has become severely limited.  Once I determine exactly when this happened, I?ll see who was here at the Center at that time.  That should narrow the suspect list dramatically.?

Even as he explained things to the two scientists, Tony knew that thinning the field of possible offenders would present more challenges.  Not that he was all that worried about the saboteur, who he knew surely had solid rationalizations for his actions.  He had a feeling all of this was coming to a head, anyway.  He glanced at Dr. Farber and saw that he was looking at him with a somewhat puzzled expression on his face.  Then he realized that the woman was talking to him again, asking him yet another question.

?Tony, do you think the recordings will show anything this time??

?I doubt it.  The guy covered his tracks pretty well the first time, so I suspect he had no trouble doing so again.?

?There has to be something.  Somewhere that he slipped up.?

?Monique, it doesn?t matter,? said Dr. Farber.

She looked over at him, frowning.  Tony was also a bit taken aback by his statement, not immediately knowing what he meant, or how he was supposed to respond to it.  If at all.  Farber was still looking at him strangely, though.  Sweat suddenly popped out on his forehead.  Again, it was the woman who broke the silence, now turning her attention back to her fellow scientist.

?Doesn?t matter?  What do you mean?  What the hell are you talking about??

?I talked to Dr. Vance last week.  He told me that Thompson is already building your device up on the Moon, based on your earlier design drawings and specs.  Of course, they are not just building a prototype.  They are actually building it to scale, for immediate deployment on the BIG EYE, once finished.?

?What?  That?s freaking crazy!?

?Pretty much what I said.  He said that for Thompson it was a matter of faith.  I?m starting to think that faith has a lot to do with everything that is happening around here.  What do you think, Antonio??

?I think you just might be right,? Tony said, a sudden calm coming over him.  ?If you both will excuse me, I have to go and check on Dr. Singh and Dr. Kam, and then go back to my office and see what I can discover from the security footage.?

He immediately left the room, leaving the two of them frowning at one another over his abrupt departure.  Monique shrugged her shoulders and sighed.  Michael was at a loss on how to console her.  However, she didn?t appear overly upset anymore, so he was hesitant to rock a boat that didn?t seem to need un-rocking.  He held his observations about what had just transpired to himself.  He needed to think about what he thought he had just seen.  And he wasn?t sure how he felt about it, anyway.

?Strange egg,? she said, moving back over to her workstation.  Michael didn?t comment, just following her, ready to lend a hand or shoulder, if called upon.  After a short period of reflection, she threw her hands up in the air.

?I guess there isn?t much point in rebuilding this damn thing, especially after your little announcement.  Why didn?t you tell me earlier about what was happening on the Moon??

?I?m sorry, I thought you knew.  Vance was supposed to have told you about what the Director was doing.  And I was trying to tell you right before Brooks came into your lab.?

?Why would Thompson do that??

?As Vance explained to me, it?s a matter of faith for Thompson.  I would imagine that the Director, as a Christian, feels that God?s hand is in everything that is happening, from the manipulations of the BIG EYE and the Moon, to every other little facet of what is occurring.?

?I repeat my earlier pronouncement.  That?s crazy.  If God wanted to show us something, why doesn?t He just do it?  Why go through all the trouble of these intricate machinations??

?Maybe there are forces afoot that are trying to undermine what Thompson?s God is trying to do.?

?But with a devote Christian, and you seem to be suggesting that Thompson?s faith is driving his actions, God is supreme, and controls all.  He could easily overcome any obstacles to His grand design.?

?Ah, but according to Christians, God gives Man free will, always offering him the chance to screw things up.  And, like I said, if you?re buying into all this baloney, there might be other divine forces at work here, combating God?s intentions.?

?What, the saboteur?  Are you going to tell me that the bastard is an agent of the devil, or some other such drivel??

?No, I don?t think so.  Maybe.  Hell, I don?t know.  But something or someone is definitely trying to stall our work on this project.  And that is something we need to investigate.  Regardless, I need to check something out first, but then I think we will need to talk to Tony some more.?

But he never did.  And he never had a chance to tell her about the clipboard he was almost certain he had seen on her worktable when they had first entered the lab.  As things turned out, he was glad that he didn?t.

CHAPTER 20

Tony Brooks knew something that nobody else knew, or at least something that no one else had ever discovered.  Director Thompson?s research into the births of the seven wise men and women back in December of 1999 had been incorrect.  Probably in more ways than one, but revelations usually don?t come until much later, if ever.  He figured that miracles were like that, if one were disposed to believe in such.  Which he was not.

Like the others, he was born early in the morning on December 25th of 1999, a brilliant flash of light illuminating a small operating room in Quito, Ecuador and apparently marking the event for all eternity.  Unlike the others, who were born alone and remained without siblings for the rest of their lives, neither of those things applied to him.  Tony had been born moments after his twin sister was born, by C-section, a delivery that his mother had not survived, due to unexpected complications.

Their father, Anthony, was not a vane man, as someone observing subsequent events that early morning might have imagined.  But overwhelmed with grief at the sudden loss of his wife, Antoinette; he just kept mumbling the name of his deceased love to any question asked him.  The nurse recording the births and the newly proposed names of the two infants, equally flustered by the woman?s unexpected death, couldn?t make out what he was saying, so she had just entered her best guess at what he was muttering onto the official form, no matter how ridiculous it would later seem.  The newborn children, one a girl and the other a boy, were thus both named Antonio.  The ludicrous inaccuracy was never corrected at the hospital.  Nor was any effort ever made to correct the official record in the weeks, months, or even years that followed.  So, officially, two babies named Antonio were born on that dark Christmas morning, marked by a brilliant flash of light.

Growing up, the children were differentiated by the use of the male and female versions of the Antonio that the nurse had writ, or shortened versions of the same.  And later, on those rare occasions that he was in a good mood, his father would joke that Antoinette would have been mortified to have all four members of their family named some derivative of Tony.  After her death, the three ?Tonys? they remained, big Tony unwilling to change anything that might alter the memory of his beloved Antoinette.

The death of his mother planted the first seeds of resentment in the young Antonio, the actual male child, once he realized that his family was not like others, and was missing a key component.  He frequently asked his perpetually morose father where his mother was, and always received the same reply; ?she was with God.?  That provided him an early target for his bitterness.  Who or whatever was this God that was depriving him of his mother?  A young, innocent resentment began for an unseen entity, and for a situation that he could not understand.

Over time, that innocent seed grew and festered until it became a dull loathing.  It didn?t help matters that the elder Tony turned to the bottle to soothe the pain of his wife?s death.  And he was not a happy drunk, perhaps feeling the same anger that Antonio felt, but channeling it not towards God, but towards his own son.  And all the while he tormented Antonio, he revered Antonia, his daughter, as every day she grew more and more to resemble her mother.  The resentment that Antonio felt towards a God that had taken his mother could easily have transferred to his domineering father, or to his daddy?s-little-girl sister.  But the young Antonia wouldn?t allow it.  Even as a young child, she became the mother that Antonio had lost, and even the wife that her father yearned for.  She was an angel, and somehow, she managed to hold together a family that had been brought to its knees by tragedy.  The young Antonia provided the love that everyone needed.

She had plenty of it to go around.

?Papa, we are going to the park,? Antonia would announce, whenever she saw that her father was having a bad day.  Those were pretty frequent, and quite easy to foretell, the bottle of brown liquor sitting on the table a foreboding omen of what the evening might hold.

?Be back by dark,? Tony would say, if he said anything at all.  The children didn?t ever give him a moment to reconsider.

?Let?s hit it, Tonio!?

?Right behind you, sister!?

Big Tony worked for a thriving U.S. oil company headquartered in Houston, Texas, though he had lived and worked in South America for much of his career.  He was serving as liaison with an affiliate oil company in Ecuador when he met, fell in love with, and then married his Antoinette.  They had only been married a couple of years when the children were born, and tragedy struck.  He elected to stay in Quito after Antoinette passed, thinking that she would have liked her children to grow up around her family.  He didn?t have much of one back in the States, so really didn?t have many ties there.  The only concession he made to his American roots was that he required his children to learn and speak fluent English in their home.  Smart as whips, they had no trouble at all with that small obligation.  And with his higher American wages, he and his small family lived very comfortably in Ecuador.  They had both a cleaning lady and a cook, and one or the other of them would make sure that the kids were fed, the house was clean, and that the elder Tony would find his way to bed, if on any given evening the drinking became too bad.

In those early years, even before they were old enough for school, Antonio and his sister spent much of their time in the park just one street over from the house where they lived.  And though he and Antonia were initially considered ?those two American kids? because they spoke Spanish with a bit of an accent, they quickly became ?los dos Tonys? and were totally accepted by the other kids.  Over time, they became Tonia and Tonio to the locals and to each other.  The park was an idyllic setting, with a large cobblestone expanse, surrounded by unidentified shade trees, and a large central fountain pond that many of the neighborhood kids used as a swimming pool on hot summer days.  All of them would just strip down to their underwear, or nada, and have a great time, splashing about with great enthusiasm, modesty a foreign word.

Once dry, and re-clothed, they would play games with the other kids throughout the afternoon.  All the children, both young and old, loved playing the traditional Ecuadorian games of Rayuela or maybe Canicas with Tonia, the strange euphoria of being in her presence drawing them near, as moths to a flame.  Instinctively, Tonio knew that he had to share his sister with the world, and he would do so, happy knowing that at home he had her all to himself.  While Tonia flourished with the younger children, often having more than one fighting for her lap as she wove one of her magical tales, Tonio tired of playing the games of children.  Instead, he was drawn to the board games he saw the old men playing at the tables along the shady edge of the cobblestones.  The older patrons at first barely tolerated the young boy hanging about, watching their every move, but after a while, already bored with vanquishing the same old opponents, some of the more skilled players started inviting him to play, and taught him the games.  So, at an early age, Tonio became obsessed with checkers, dominos, and ultimately, chess.  He devoured all of the knowledge and strategy anyone was willing to share with him.

After just a short while, most of the old men wished they had never introduced the young boy to their pastimes, ultimately refusing to even sit across from him.  Their hesitancy was not because Tonio was rude, or disrespectful, or even too immature.  He was the exact opposite of all of those things, but always hungry for more challenges.  It just became too embarrassing that a seven-year-old kept trouncing them all so soundly, and so repeatedly.  The boy was positively ruthless, but in a pleasant way, and that agitated them even more.  He would happily laugh as he jumped their last king in checkers, if they ever managed to promote one.  Or in chess, merrily smile and checkmate them in twenty moves, after sacrificing his queen on the eighth.  So, ultimately, on most days he could find no opponent and would have to go back to play games with Tonia and the other kids.  Through no fault of his own, he repelled the old men just as effectively as his sister pulled the children to her.  It was no relief to any of the men at the time that they were losing to a boy that would ultimately achieve grandmaster status in the world of chess at the age of fifteen.

?Tonio, we need to go home.?

?Ok, Tonia.?

Tonio never disagreed with anything his sister said.  Even if he was in the middle of a chess game with one of the braver old men, he would acquiesce, tip over his king, and jump up to leave.  He wouldn?t notice the faint expression of relief that would cross his opponent?s face whenever a game abruptly ended in such a manner.  But Tonia would, and she would frequently wink and smile at the relieved man over her shoulder as she and her brother left the park.  It was disconcerting for seven-year-olds to behave like los dos Tonys did.

They were not able to visit the park as often once school started.  The two Tonys did very well in class, their teachers more than a little impressed with Tonia?s empathic ways and Tonio?s calculating mind.  It was a joy to teach the little American children, though mostly all they had to do was hand them the books and then sit back and watch.  The two siblings both strove to do well, not wanting to upset their morose father in any way.  As the years passed, he continued to sink deeper into his all-consuming depression, and his alcoholism.  And he was hard on Tonio, which pained Tonia to no end.  The children tried to stay away from home as much as possible, and as they got older, they ventured further and further away.  By the time they were ten, they were taking unescorted bus trips all over the interior of Ecuador.  Their father saw no problem with this, as the country was one of the safest in all of South America, and besides, he had given them a cellular phone in case they were ever in trouble.  He did have a feeling that his dear departed Antoinette would not have approved or been so complacent.  It was a feeling that he should have heeded.

For their thirteenth birthday, Tonio and Tonia decided to embark on their most adventurous outing to date.  Quito was a beautiful city, and the surrounding villages were quaint and had been fun to visit.  But los dos Tonys had never seen the ocean, and Tonia easily convinced Tonio that they should visit it to mark the end of their childhood.  By this time, she felt that her brother was beginning to spend too much time on his computer, obsessing, and becoming way too immersed in his chess challenges.  It was getting harder and harder to pull him away, but she knew he liked an adventure just as much as she did, and Tonio still couldn?t say no to his sister.  And the thought of a Christmas trip was even more appealing, their father drinking more and more heavily as the anniversary of their mother?s death approached.  Tonio didn?t understand why he didn?t look at the other side of the day, and instead celebrate the birth of his children.  Though in many ways Tonio was wise beyond his age, he was still a child, and didn?t fully understand grief.  Soon, unfortunately, he would.

Early Christmas morning, their father still passed out from his latest bout of drinking the night before, they packed a lunch, a couple of towels and their bathing suits, the days of swimming in their underwear long past.  Finally, Tonia dropped her wallet and the cell phone into her bag and they headed to the bus terminal.  There, she bought two round-trip tickets to the coastal town of Pedernales, located about 277 kilometers away on the Pacific Ocean.  Then she purchased them both some cheap sunglasses and hats, which she thought appropriate for the beach.  Her hat was made from toquilla straw, looking very much like a Panama hat, but decorated with a pink silk band to make it more feminine.  The English word LOVE was stitched on the pink silk with thick red thread, in beautiful cursive script.  His was a navy ball cap, with a white H emblazoned over an orange star.  He liked it a lot, and knew his father would like it as well.  Moving away from the small store next to the ticket counter, she saw a bunch of little kids playing in the terminal, so she stopped at a kiosk and bought a big bag of assorted candy.  While they waited for their bus to depart, she handed the candy out to the children, who flocked about her like seagulls above a shrimper.  She gave away most of it, but saved some for the children she knew would surely be on their bus to Pedernales.  She was correct, and she had a gang of laughing, happy children around her both at the terminal and on the bus.  Again, Tonio was thankful for the time he was able to spend with Tonia, who spread happiness wherever she went.

Almost five hours later they arrived in Pedernales.  The trip had been long, but both of them had been able to sleep some, once the candy ran out and the kids finally left Tonia alone.  Unluckily, the bus was not air-conditioned, so they slept fitfully, and woke up all sweaty and grimy from the dust that had found its way inside from the open windows.  Progress in Ecuador still lagged most of the civilized world, but both of the blossoming young adults were fine with that.  Once they jumped off of the bus, it took just a quick brushoff and a straightening of head apparel, and they were ready to go.  A sign across from the bus terminal entrance pointed the way to the beach, down Juan Pereira road.

They were almost running by the time they could hear the ocean and smell its fishy odor, acting much more like the children they were, than the young adults that they were just on the cusp of becoming.  Like they cared.

?I?ll race you!?

?Challenge accepted, girly girl!?

From the first step, Tonio knew that he would never catch her.  His sister ran like the wind.  He was a full thirty seconds behind her when she crossed the main coastal thoroughfare and finally hit the already crowded beach.  She was hurriedly pulling the towels and their suits from her bag by the time he reached her.  Tonia didn?t see any changing facilities nearby, so she changed into her suit with a towel wrapped around her.  Tonio looked around and noticed a few older boys nearby watching his sister?s every move.  He couldn?t blame them, as he would have stared at her the same way if she hadn?t been his sister.  But she was, and he didn?t like the way that they continued to ogle her, especially once she had finished, and let the towel fall to the sand, revealing her bikini.  He scowled at them.  The biggest of the four momentarily scowled back in return, and then laughed at Tonio.  He nudged the smaller teen next to him, who was still staring in Tonia?s direction as she made her way to the water.  That boy looked at Tonio and laughed at whatever the bigger boy had said.  Then they appeared to lose interest in him and his sister, turning their attention to the cans of some beverage wrapped in paper bags that they were drinking.

?Tonio, are you just going to stand there??

He looked towards his sister in the distance, already ankle deep in the lapping waves.  He ignored the boys, and got into his own suit.  He did hear them laugh when the towel slipped one time before he got his trunks completely on, but he ignored that, as well.  He as anxious to touch the sea.

?Wait for me,? he yelled, as Tonia was in to her waist by the time he was running towards the water.  He wasn?t worried for his sister, as both of them could swim like fish, having spent many hours at the community pool in Quito, once the fountain pool became too small for their needs.  But he often suffered from FOMO, fear of missing out, if even for only a few seconds.

They spent the rest of the day alternating frolicking in the waves and basking in the sunshine, the cool breeze off the water moderating the hot equatorial Sun.  It was a perfect day.  In the early afternoon they stopped and devoured the lunch that Tonia had packed, both famished from the long bus ride and their strenuous splashing in the waves.  The afternoon wore on; the crowd at the beach swelling and then diminishing as the Sun dipped toward the horizon.  The older boys had vanished at some point, much to Tonio?s delight.

?We need to think about heading to the terminal.  Our bus leaves at 7PM, and it will be getting dark by then.  I think we need to get there at least half an hour before that.?

?Tonia, it only takes five minutes to get there.?

?If we run like I do, it does.  But at your speed, it will take at least twenty-five minutes.?

?Yeah, right.  Compromise?  Fifteen minutes before??

?Ok, it?s a deal.  We leave here twenty minutes before the bus departure time.?

?Ah!?

But she was right.  It was better to show up a little early, as buses in Ecuador were notoriously unreliable, not really on a set schedule.  The driver might leave a few minutes early if the bus were full enough, or he had somewhere else he needed to be.  It was Christmas Day, after all.  And if they missed the 7 o?clock bus, the last bus left at 9PM, and both of them knew their father would not be happy with them arriving home at two in the morning.  Midnight would be bad enough, but they had talked it over and decided that their father would in all likelihood still be three sheets to the wind at midnight.  But he might wake up by two, and if he checked on his children, as he tended to do, even in his drunken state, he wouldn?t be happy to find their beds empty.  So, they packed everything up, then lay down side by side in the sand and watched the Sun dip towards the sea.

?It?s beautiful here.?

?It is,? Tonia said, her finger brushing at the dried sea salt, white on her brother?s almost ebony skin.

?We should come here every year for our birthday!  And maybe, someday, we can get our father to come, as well.?

?That would be perfect, Tonio, but it will never happen.?

?Why not??

?This is where he took our mother on their honeymoon.?

?Really?  I didn?t know that.?

?He told me about it when I told him that we were going to come here for our birthday this year.  I asked him then if he would come, but he said he didn?t want to spoil our day.  He is so sad, Tonio.?

?Yes, he is a sad man.?

?I think that he wishes every day that he could join Antoinette to be with God in heaven.  I also think that he would already be there, if not for you and me.?

?If there is a heaven, I don?t think big Tony will ever be joining mother there.?

They sat in silence for a while, watching the Sun?s trek downward.  Tonio didn?t want to think about his mother or his father.  This was too nice a day to ruin with such thoughts.  Over the years, Tonia had pulled him from his depression, and had even gotten him to attend church a couple of times.  Though he sang the songs, and bowed his head at the appropriate times, he had never quite gotten over his distrust in God.  Still, this Christmas trip was helping Tonia?s plan for God?s redemption in her brother?s eyes.  But all good things must come to an end.  A slight beeping was coming from the beach bag on the sand between them.  It was the cellphone timer.

?Ok, twin brother of mine, it?s time to go.?

?So soon!?

?Yes.  Let?s wave goodbye to the ocean.  And then we need to run back for the bus!?

?I?m winning this time!?

He got up, brushed the sand from his side and his legs, gave a quick wave to the ocean, and then he was off like a shot.  She shouted a mild protest at him, but it was not serious, as she knew she could catch him with no trouble.  She quickly collected their towels, stuffed them in the beach bag on top of their cellphone, and hastened after her brother.  Tonia could see him up ahead, crossing the main street, and then turning up Juan Pereira road.  He was moving fast.  Maybe she wouldn?t win this race, after all.

It didn?t take her long to traverse the sand and reach the main boulevard, but she had to wait a couple of minutes to cross, as traffic was a bit heavy at that time of day.  Finally finding a break in the stream of vehicles, she crossed and ran to the corner where Tonio had turned, expecting to see him well up the road, probably blocks ahead of her.  But when she turned the corner, the street was deserted.  Way up ahead, numerous blocks away, she could just see a bus, probably the very one that they would be taking back to Quito, pulling into the terminal.  Tonio could not have made it all the way there.  She hadn?t been that far behind him.

She started sprinting.

Tonia was just passing the second side street, really nothing more than an alley, when she heard her brother crying out.  She slowed, and looking to her left saw Tonio about a hundred feet down the narrow way.

?Run, Tonia!?

Two boys had hold of his arms, and a third was punching him in the stomach, trying to silence him.  She recognized them immediately as the miscreants that they had seen earlier on the beach.  Older, harder, and not to be trifled with, they were probably members of some gang or other.  Even from where she stood, she could see the fear in her brother?s eyes.  She just didn?t realize that he wasn?t afraid for himself.

She turned down the alley and ran towards the scuffle.

Tonio couldn?t catch his breath in time to warn his sister, the blow to the stomach having knocked all the air from his lungs.  By the time he could speak, the biggest boy, the one hiding to one side of the alley behind some refuse, had grabbed Tonia, and had her in a tight embrace.  She dropped the beach bag, and was kicking and trying to scream, but the boy had his hand firmly over her mouth.  Her muffled cries were not going to bring help.

?C?llate, puta negra,? the boy said, pulling her face into his chest.  And then he whispered something into her ear that Tonio couldn?t make out.  She stopped struggling, and looking into her eyes, he knew that something really bad was about to happen.  Her eyes locked with his, and then the fear, the panic, all emotion drained from them.

?Tonia!?

He had finally gotten his voice back.  He somehow found the strength to pull one of his arms loose, and was about to get totally free when something heavy smashed into the whole side of his face.  His head snapped to one side, but instead of seeing the setting Sun, he saw stars.  And then he slipped into total, numbing darkness.

He awoke the next morning with a blinding headache, barely able to move his head.  But he felt a hand on his brow, and was happy to see, once he was able to turn his head just a few inches, that it belonged to his father.

?Big Tony!  What happened?  Where?s Tonia??

?Rest, Tonio.  You are in a hospital bed.  One of the boys hit you in the head with a brick, or a rock of some kind.  You will have quite a scar there.  It was lucky you didn?t die.  I prayed so hard.  Those boys could have killed you.?

?Is Tonia, ok??

His father hesitated, and then nodded yes, turning away quickly.  But not before he saw the tears forming.  Not before he saw the mask slip momentarily, to reveal the despair beneath.  Tonio began to cry.  All his father could do was apologize for not coming with them to the beach, the pungent scent of alcohol still oozing from his pores.  The boy shied away from him; his sour breath strong in the air.  Tony swore that next year he would join them, and that from then on, they would make wonderful vacations of his children?s Christmas birthdays.

It was a promise he could not keep.  They never made it back to the beach.

?Where is she??

?She?s resting.  The boys that attacked you stole all of your things.  They only wanted to steal your things.  Your phone is gone.  Your wallet.  They took the whole beach bag.?

?Bastards!?

?They left your hats.  I like your new hats.?

Big Tony laughed, handing him his Astros hat, and then holding Tonia?s Panama hat, with its silky pink band, to one side, gripping it way too hard, his large hands slowly deforming the soft toquilla straw.  His father?s fist covered the bright red LOVE stitching Tonio knew was on the band.  He looked at his father, trying to smile.  But he was hurting, and not just his head.  Too much was being left unsaid?  ?They only wanted to steal your things?,? A dark foreboding gripped his heart, but he could not press his father to answer the important questions that the man would not be able to answer.

Big Tony said that the authorities had called him shortly after they found the two children in the alley.  He said that before Antonia passed out, she had been able to tell them what happened, to even give them his number, and that they had then called him right away.  The police told his father that members of a gang called ?Hijas Malvados de Dios? or ?wicked stepsons of God? were probably the ones that had attacked his children.  The gang was an evil cancer, spreading all across South America.

The tired man grew quiet, spent.  Tonio drifted in and out of consciousness.

After a short while, a nurse came in and told his father that he could finally go and see Antonia.  Big Tony jumped up and immediately left the room.  Tonio, after tearing the IV from his arm and nearly falling from his bed, staggered down the hallway behind the big man.  She really was alive!  He had feared his father had been lying.  But, no, he had not.

His father was already by her bedside, crying, when he finally caught up and came into the room where his sister lay.  She had an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, and her head was wrapped in a large white bandage.  Lying on her back with eyes closed, she rested, unresponsive to her father?s touch.  Nearby, a machine recorded her breathing, her heartbeat, and her brain function.  That third line was almost totally flat.  Tonio couldn?t move from the doorway, frozen in fear.

Thirty minutes later, his father finally rose, no longer able to bear seeing his daughter in such a state.  He left the room and Tonio immediately took his place, grasping his sister?s limp hand.  The boy couldn?t speak, not knowing what to say.  That flat third line had left a lump in his throat, denying him the ability to speak.  He heard his father out in the hallway speaking to the doctor, unable to make out the conversation.  An unintelligible cry of anguish from his father told him all he needed to know.  He squeezed his sister?s hand, tears streaming down his face, finally able to speak.

?Tonia,? he croaked, happy to at least say her name.

He looked at her face, at peace, serene, and then he thought he saw a twitch.  His eyes snapped to that third line on the medical machine, the one that measured brain function, and was amazed to see a series of blips beginning to form.  He quickly stood to hover over his sister and saw her eyes flutter open.  She couldn?t speak, but her eyes said it all.

After an initial flash of joy at seeing and then even recognizing him, they drifted slowly to sadness and pain, perhaps recalling what the boys had done to her before bashing in her skull and leaving her to die.  He grasped her hand, trying to comfort her, and she finally looked back at him.  He saw shame, which he met with anger.

?No, Tonia, no.  Not ever.  Not your fault.  You saved me.  I will never forget.?

But her eyes no longer held the precious spark of joy that made her so special, nor, he knew, would they ever again.  His heart ached, seeing that her eyes no longer smiled and danced along with her laugh.  She looked at him one more time, and he thought he saw her smile through the clear plastic mask, and then she was gone, sliding back into a deep coma.

Tonia never again emerged from her coma, the joy never finding its way back into her eyes.  Ironically, Tonio did not blame that gang of hard boys called the Hijas Malvados De Dios.  They were just evil incarnate, and though they had taken her body, they could not vanquish her.  Without evil, could there even be good?  And God was supposedly the embodiment of good, of purity, of hope.  Yet it took one of God?s indiscriminate decisions to take his sister from him.  As the years passed, he frequently asked God why He hadn?t infected los Hijas Malvados with one of His many plagues, to prevent the outrage from ever occurring.  But He hadn?t.  Why instead had He paralyzed, why had He silenced, the most wonderful, gentle girl in the world?

Antonio found a new reason to hate God.

He had taken away his mother, turned his father into a drunk, and allowed his sister to be hurt.  And then, for all intents and purposes, He had taken her away, as well.  The pain was unbearable for the remaining Tonys.  So, Big Tony took Antonio and his comatose sister away from Ecuador, and from all the pain there.  Back to America.  To begin a life, such as it was, in Houston, where the son immersed himself in the world of chess, and the father submerged himself in the depths of brown liquor.  As for Tonia, she was placed in a small private hospital, in a quaint Houston suburb.  Where she would receive constant care, but would likely never recover.

But her brother?s hatred for God never abated, as Antonia was not there to lead Tonio away from that fruitless path.  Years passed, but nothing really changed.  Nothing could ever really change.  And then big Tony died while Tonio was attending college, liver disease the diagnosis, but heartbreak the real cause of death.

Antonio Americanized his name, becoming Tony Brooks, and went on to solidify his title as a chess grandmaster and also became a skilled mathematician.  He ultimately found a home at NASA, with the space program.  But he was a loner, and the hatred still smoldered, though miraculously, it had begun to lessen in the last few years.  After all, two decades was a long time to hold a grudge, especially against God, an entity no mortal could ever truly understand.  Tony buried the hatred, finally able to ignore the God that had caused him so much pain.  He began a routine working at NASA by day, playing online chess at night, and then going to see his comatose sister at least two times a week at the little hospital not far from where he lived.  Seeing her in that state still angered him, but in some ways, he envied the constant state of serenity she seemed to have found.

And then the Moon began to move.  And somehow, he became part of an endeavor which he recognized early on might ultimately serve to glorify God in modern times.

Tony Brooks could not allow that.

CHAPTER 21

As soon as he had rushed into the lab after Dr. Nader?s frantic, but expected, call, Tony had seen his clipboard sitting on the table, right next to the jumble of equipment that had once again been nearing completion.  And his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.  The worried security guard was at his heels, swearing that he had never left his post.

?Not once, no sir, not at all,? Tony listened attentively, playing the part of the concerned manager, slowly approaching the table and surveying the surrounding area.  He turned to the security guard.

?Simpson, are you sure you never left your post outside the door?  Not even for an instant??

?No sir.?

?Not even for a quick bathroom break, it was a long night??

?Well, I??

?How long??

?Couldn?t have been more than five minutes, Mr. Brooks, I swear.?

All the time they were talking, Tony kept looking about the room.  Pieces and parts were strewn all about.  He nodded, as though he was gleaning some sort of understanding from what he was seeing.  What he carefully noted was that Nader and Farber had moved across the room, letting him do his job, perhaps a bit embarrassed for Simpson, and the difficult position he had gotten himself into.  Tony walked right up to the table, as though surveying the damage.  As Simpson continued to profess the insignificance of his dereliction of duty, his hand dropped to the clipboard.

?Hummph.?

?I wasn?t gone for more than four minutes, max!  There?s no way anyone could have been watching for me to leave, come in to do this, and then gotten away before I came back.?

Of course, that was exactly what Brooks had done.  He had reviewed the security tapes from the last few nights and noted that Simpson was regular as clockwork, always leaving his post at 2 AM for a bathroom break, and he was always gone for at least five minutes, and sometimes as long as ten.  Couldn?t really blame the man.  It was a long shift in the middle of a long night in a highly secure facility.  He was surprised that Simpson hadn?t snuck off for an hour or so every night, to grab a nap.  He knew that in his off time the young security guard was going to classes to become a court stenographer or something like that, perhaps his job with NASA not what he had expected.  Brooks noted on the tapes that the man frequently nodded off while guarding the lab, his study guide falling off his lap often the noise that startled him awake.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the two scientists were not facing in his direction, and then nonchalantly picked up his clipboard, giving Simpson a look of disappointment.  He glanced down at the clipboard, shuffling aimlessly through the first few pages.  He knew that Simpson was too distraught to notice something so minor as him picking up a clipboard.

?I?ll have to go and review the security tapes and see what tales they tell.  I have a feeling that your absence from your duty station will coincide with the likely sudden destruction of Dr. Nader?s device.  Please return to your post.  I believe your daytime replacement should be arriving soon.  I?ll be contacting you, and your supervisor, later today.  Perhaps a change in direction is warranted.  Dismissed.?

Simpson walked quickly out of the room, past the two scientists who were now walking back towards the scene of the crime.  He had his head down, and muttered a muffled apology as he passed them.  They joined Tony near the table.  He had turned to them as they approached.

The subsequent conversation with them had been tedious; though dealing with the woman had been fairly uncomplicated.  She was rightfully upset, and wanted answers.  He was happy to comply, though really offering her no new information.  Dr. Farber was another matter.  He kept looking at Tony strangely, as though he was trying to figure out a puzzle.  Weren?t they all?  But this was more personal, more direct.  As the conversation wore on, Tony had become very uncomfortable under the man?s gaze.  And then Farber had dropped the bombshell about Thompson already building Nader?s device on the Moon, all the time staring at Tony.  Reading his reaction?  Looking for a fleeting trace of guilt?  And what the hell was that comment about faith?  And then to top it all off, he had called him by his boyhood name, Antonio.  Tony was sure that he would have fainted had he called him Tonio, instead.  Though he outwardly kept his composure, at that moment he decided that he had to get out of the lab as quickly as possible.  And he had done so, sure that his abrupt departure had raised eyebrows.  But he didn?t care.

After leaving Dr. Nader and Dr. Farber, he went to check on the other two scientists working on their respective pieces of the puzzle.  Tony didn?t want to appear like he was in too big a hurry to get to his office.  He found Dr. Singh well entrenched in his endeavors, pouring over mounds of data on every singularity that had ever been discovered.  Dr. Kam was nowhere to be found, though Singh said that he thought that maybe she was off campus, helping with some unrelated pet project she had found to pass the time.  Tony was aware of her field trips and like everyone else, he couldn?t determine exactly where Dr. Kam fit into the big picture.  That definitely bore closer scrutiny and consideration; especially after Farber?s revelation about Nader?s device.  Finally, he got to his office.  He put his clipboard down on his desk, stared at it for a long moment, shook his head, and then entered his password into his computer.

That had been a close one.  He wiped the slight sheen of sweat from his brow and pulled up the security video of Dr. Nader?s laboratory for the previous evening.  He fast-forwarded to the point where someone had once again caused just a few minutes of the timeline to disappear.  It was an expert job, just like the last time.

But that had been easy.

This was not.  After Dr. Nader?s prototype had seemingly exploded into a million pieces on her work-table, his clipboard had appeared, suddenly materializing out of thin air.  He was amazed that he had not noticed it before when doctoring the tapes.

He bent down to the task at hand, spending the next hour and a half erasing the object of his doom from the tape.  His office phone and his cell rang numerous times during his concerted efforts, but he ignored all of the calls, not even noting who had made the attempts.  He was sure that Director Thompson was one of them, perhaps all of them.  He had to be frantic, reaching out to get any information about this latest incidence of sabotage.  Though in reality, why would he be panicky?  He was already manufacturing Nader?s device up on the Moon without any testing at all.  Talk about faith!  Still, he would want to identify the saboteur, before the culprit figured out a way to successfully derail all of their efforts.  And Tony wanted to give the Director all of the info he possibly could; all that didn?t implicate him, that is.

That would not be easy, either.  Especially if he kept making errors like the one he had made last night.  At least, as he was currently in charge of security, he had the ability to cover up his tracks.  Once he was finished, he sped through the new recording, only slowing the replay down during the more critical time periods.  He was fairly adroit at data manipulation, and the doctored recordings were pretty convincing, but he knew that upon close examination, someone might realize that something had been erased from the table in the middle of the night.  And that maybe Tony had reached down and picked that something up from the table the next morning.

The Director, or one of the other members of the chosen gang of scientists, would then surely figure out that they had stupidly put the fox in charge of the henhouse.  And then he would be arrested, before he ever really did a thing to prevent this profane project?s completion.  Based on what Dr. Farber had revealed about Thompson?s activities on the Moon, and what he was already building up there, his most recent efforts with Nader?s device had all been for naught, anyway.  And there was no way around Farber?s physical backup strategy of wearing his precious programs around his neck.  He was being thwarted at every turn.  He swept the cursed clipboard off of his desk in a quick fit of rage.  How could he have been so careless?

The minor outburst over, he stood up and stretched.  He bent down and picked up the wicked clipboard, placing it back on his desk.  His efforts had been tedious and mentally draining, but he was mildly satisfied with the results.  They would hold up, just so suspicions were never raised and a more thorough investigation initiated.  He would definitely need to be more careful in the future.  But on reflection, he wondered why was he worried about anything.

He was a pessimist, and after watching the video showing the destruction of Icarus Base on Mercury, he had serious doubts about the long-term outlook for Mankind?s survival.  Tony guessed that everyone who had listened to the Director, and seen the estimated extent of that solar flare?s reach, had to be having those same doubts.  He sighed.  And like everyone experiencing those misgivings, and realizing that there was nothing to be done, he resigned himself to carry on with business as usual.

Or with business as unusual, in his case.

He still had a task to perform.  In his mind, Tony once again reviewed what avenues or opportunities were still available to him.  He ultimately decided that there really wasn?t much he could do to thwart the efforts of the other wise men and women in their appointed tasks.  At least not and remain in the shadows.  Singh had contributed his slice of the equation early on, his study of black holes and their properties enabling Vance to make that initial intuitive leap about the possible makeup of the visible halo of light emanating from the nearby singularity.  Vance and Thompson, both on the Moon, were beyond the scope of Tony?s efforts, so were really not worthy of consideration.  Dr. Nader?s device on the BIG EYE would soon be operational, and Dr. Farber had taken enough safeguards with his programming endeavors to render those two nearby avenues of influence dead ends.

That left Dr. Kam, whose contribution to the entire process no one could as yet fathom.  But Tony knew, actually had faith, that Charlene had to have a purpose, as yet unidentified.  Else why was she involved at this pivotal moment in Mankind?s history, or perhaps, its future?  Born under a flash of light decades ago, like the rest of them, she embodied no apparent purpose, so far as current events were concerned.

Tony hesitated at that thought.

He brought his hand up and slowly massaged his forehead, his fingers finding the raised scar that slowly disappeared under his already receding hairline.  Against his dark skin, the pale scar was quite pronounced, shaped like an X, with one of the lines a bit longer than the other.  His hand hesitated as it followed that line up into his hair.  There was yet another person who had been born in the presence of an unnatural flash of light, whose role in all of this he could not divine.  And he wasn?t thinking of himself, though much like Dr. Kam, he couldn?t figure out what his contribution to this particular effort might ultimately be.

No, he was thinking of his twin sister, Antonia.  She had been one of the Christmas chosen; born early that special morning, under a heavenly luminance over three decades earlier, and yet she was not part of the equation any longer.  Why not?  A new thought entered his mind.  And upon further reflection, he conceded that while the circumstances of her birth mirrored that of the others, his own birth was definitely different.  The bright flash had already subsided by the time he had been plucked from his mother?s womb, a few minutes after Antonia had been born.  So, there was nothing to truly mark his birth, to rightfully allow him to be part of the monumental occurrences of late.  He was nothing more than an interloper.

He sat down with a thump, his hands slowly falling to hang limply at his side.

Antonia had been the one chosen to be part of this odyssey, not him.  She had basked in, and then held the light, her soul burning so bright, filled with so much love, that had she survived intact, this endeavor would have been blessed ten times over by her mere presence.  And her joy would have been contagious, making everyone?s current efforts seem more a blessing than a chore.  But she had not really survived, her tender light had not flourished, not beyond her thirteenth year.

His darkness had.

And the world had lost its most gentle soul.  Why?

Instead of having a loving, beneficial influence to bind the efforts of so many strong personalities in the present, the world was left with Tony, a young man filled with hatred for a God he couldn't understand.  He began to tremble slightly, but it belied the turmoil raging just below the surface.  His analytical mind took control of the situation, as it would at times such as this, the better for his psyche to ultimately survive.  From the dark corners of his mind, a mental image of a chessboard floated into view.  He began analyzing the position on the board, replaying the moves already made, and looking for the possible motives and the strategies behind those moves.  After some time, Tony realized that this celestial contest was already well into the end game.

Looking at the arc of his life, without emotion, and overlaying the juxtaposition of current events with the virtual loss of his sister in the distant past, a number of questions slowly floated to the surface.  What force, or set of influences, had facilitated his presence at the birth of one of the chosen?  Why had the circumstances of his sister?s birth been veiled at the time?  The name mix-up by the attending nurse, bittersweet, yet funny for all those early years, began to take on a different significance.  Tony dug deeper into his own motivations, and the sources for his hatred.  Why had his mother needed to die?  Why had his father, the all-important male influence necessary for a young boy?s development, been so lacking; a worthless, domineering drunkard?  And then, why had his sister been subjected to such pain and suffering?  Was her absolute goodness that much of an affront?  Her rape had stripped her of her passion, and then she had been trapped in a comatose body to relive the ordeal for the rest of her life.  Why?  What twisted force would require such a fate for an un-advanced pawn in this cosmic game of chess?  And even if that pawn might ultimately have been queened, as Tony had no doubt Antonia surely would have, why hadn?t she just been allowed to die?  Why the indignity of rape, for both her body and her soul?

For another purpose, of course.

The frown on Tony?s brow became a scowl.  He sat there in his chair for a few more minutes, and then picked up his cell phone to see who had been calling.  Yep, a majority of the attempts had been Director Thompson.  He put the phone back down; still not ready to return to the fray.  He grimaced as he considered the stratagems at work in this cosmic, multi-decade game, and his position in them.  A new mental image formed; that of a fly struggling within a jar of pure white ointment.   Powerlessly caught up in something it had no control over, but able to ruin, all the same.  And, of course, ultimately perishing in the process.  His trembling subsided as he wondered just how accurate his newly perceived roles might be, as either pawn or fly.

He didn?t like either.

And he resolved to be neither.

CHAPTER 22

?So, how did you do it??

?In this case, I didn?t do it.?

Samuel Vance and Salman Singh were discussing things celestial, maybe both of them trying to take their minds off of the solar torrent that just might be rushing towards them.  The slight delay in Earth, lunar communications didn?t hinder their conversation at all.

?I know.  The singularities recently discovered at 16.5 light years and 1000 light years out are probably just flukes.  Or so some factions would like us to believe.  No, I?m talking about your initial discovery last year, of that black hole 100 light years distant.  It fit your model perfectly, and for all intents and purposes, proved your theories.?

Singh smiled at the facetious fluke comment, silently agreeing that the discoveries of those two black holes were in no way random.  He didn?t know what forces allowed their discovery, but he had already ascertained that they were not ordinary black holes, if any singularity could ever be called ordinary.  He had been studying the properties of all three phenomena, particularly the two newest flukes, ever since he had gotten to Houston.

?I am not so sure that my theories have been validated.  No, not at all.  Just considering this most recent sampling, only one in three conforms to my mathematical models.  So, I am only batting one for three.?

?Let?s ignore the ones recently detected by the BIG EYE for a moment.  Have you tried to confirm the accuracy of your black hole search calculations by applying them to other known black holes throughout the galaxy??

?That, of course, was what I planned to do, actually had been in the process of doing, when I was summoned to Houston.  Since then, I have concentrated my efforts primarily on the two latest discoveries.  Though, it has been hard to focus on anything after Thompson?s briefing.?

?Understandable.?

?Any word from Icarus Base??

?No, not yet.  But after watching that video feed detailing the damage to their surroundings, I imagine it will take them a good while to dig out of that cave.  If that is where they sought refuge, and if they survived, that is.?

?Nothing left for us to do, but pray.?

?Indeed.  But back to your theories, how did you find your first black hole??

?It?s a bit of a long story.?

?I?ve got the time.  We are just putting the finishing touches on Dr. Nader?s enhancement device up here, so the BIG EYE is powered down right now.  Activation is scheduled for two days from now.?

?Everyone pretty excited up there??

?Yes, but staring at a halo emanating from a distant singularity, though at first amazing, gets a bit boring after a while.  Any change will be welcome.?

?I can imagine.  I hope her new device provides enough enhancement to the BIG EYE capabilities that it resolves that halo into something recognizable.  But anyway, my long story.  After receiving my doctorate in particle physics, I got a position at the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland.  The research at CERN was eye opening, but I soon tired of breaking things into smaller and smaller particles.  And I became interested in the macro side of the micro.?

?Interesting use of words.?

?Well, I think they?re very appropriate.  What we were discovering at CERN definitely had a bearing on what astronomers were beating their heads against the wall about.  Particularly, starting right about the turn of the century, physicists began to realize that the mass of the universe is much, much larger than what we are able to observe.  Even in our highly advanced modern era, we are still unable to resolve exactly what makes up the universe.  We think that about 68% of it is composed of dark energy, with another 27% being dark matter.  We really don't know much about either of those, and we are still having a pretty hard time figuring out the 5% we are able to observe.?

?Mysterious place, this universe of ours.?

?I agree.  After tiring of breaking down atoms into smaller and smaller pieces, I woke up one morning wondering if maybe I was looking in the wrong direction, or at least in the wrong scale.  I had already started studying celestial phenomena, and immediately noted that there might be some relationship between what we could and couldn?t see in both realms.?

?Yes, maybe.  At least I think I see where you are going.  To me, many a star system, including our own, seems to bear a surprising resemblance to how we first visualized what the structure of an atom might look like.  The Sun was like the nucleus of an atom, and the electrons were like the planets.?

?But unlike planets, electrons are uniform in size.  And they don?t circle the nucleus along a single plane, as they mostly do here in our Solar System.  In a neutral atom, the number of electrons coincides with the number of protons.  We now postulate that atoms are tight little balls of neutrons and protons, with their electrons? positions determined by probabilities, frequencies, and energy levels.  I started thinking that was kind of fuzzy, and hard to understand, just like our universe.  From that, I began to visualize the universe as one big, soupy mess, with every particle affecting every other particle in that mess, to some miniscule degree.  Space is not empty, and is filled with all sorts of energy and particulate matter that we can?t as yet observe, let alone explain.  With all of that dark matter and dark energy unaccounted for, I came up with a simple explanation.?

?Simple??

?Well, sort of.  What if an atom, in addition to protons, neutrons, and electrons, also has some other new particles contributing to that cosmic mess?  Something that we can?t see or measure?  At CERN we were always digging deeper and deeper into the nucleus, continually breaking the neutrons and protons into smaller and smaller pieces.  But what if each atom had a number of other, as yet undiscovered and unidentified, particles associated with it, which like electrons, were not located within the nucleus?  Particles belonging to that atom, and rotating about it, but ranging farther out than its electrons.  And I?m not talking micro distances.  I?m talking really macro distances.  Like all the way out to infinity!?

?Infinity!  How is that possible?  Did you find such particles??

?No, I didn?t find them, or at least haven?t found them yet.  I figured that the number of these particles was inversely proportional to the number of protons in an atom, but that their orbital distance was oppositely determined.  Look, for example, at Hydrogen, atomic number 1, and Unbinilium, atomic number 120, as they are at the known limits of the current elementary periodic table, lightest to heaviest.  Hydrogen, in accordance with its atomic number 1, has only one proton, and so only has one electron.  However, based on the inverse proportionality I mentioned, it would have 120 of these new particles, with the nearest of these orbiting relatively close to the atom?s nucleus.  I have not been able to determine that exact distance, but they would not be measured in subatomic microns.  Perhaps meters away, or kilometers, with the farthest out of these new Hydrogen ?satellites? ranging out almost to infinity.  But since Hydrogen is the most common element in the universe, the new particles associated with it, though almost massless, could theoretically make up a good portion of that dark matter no one seems to be able to find.  By contrast, the highly unstable, manufactured element, Unbinilium, has 120 protons, and probably 120 electrons, if it could ever exist for more than a microsecond and find the strength to hang onto them.  It would have only one of these new particles, and that new Unbinilium particle would be at a distance coinciding with the farthest out of the new Hydrogen particles, at a distance approaching infinity.  Oh, and as the farthest of these new particles travels at speeds approaching the speed of light, and are at such astronomical distances from their associated nucleus, their stored energy could easily account for that 78% of dark energy forming our universe.?

?You?ve not found, observed, studied, or even measured any of these new particles.  And yet you believe that they exist.  Interesting.  So, what do these invisible particles have to do with you being able to predict where black holes might be located??

?I am getting there.  I have not observed the new particle, but I postulated that like the electron, they have very little mass, but due to their distance from the nucleus, have lots of potential energy.  Like I said, everything affects everything else in the universe, so I figured that they should have some sort of effect on the space and time surrounding them, and vice versa.  I ended up concentrating on black holes, which affect the space and time about them more than anything else in the known universe.  The space surrounding a black hole is very interesting, particularly for nearby stellar objects.  By quantifying the properties of the star systems near known black holes, and by modeling a system that incorporates the mass projections of my new atomic particles with that, I was able to find a black hole right where the math said I should find one, right at 100 light years away.?

?Fascinating.?

?Sort of.  Maddeningly, my models do not account for the two black holes that the BIG EYE has recently discovered.  Nor do those singularities resemble any of the other black holes that had been detected before my predictive theories were borne out.  Previously discovered black holes, by and large, seem to conform to my new predictions concerning size and position, and they are behaving as singularities should.  To wit, and as expected, they are really making a mess out of their immediate spatial neighborhoods.  These two newly discovered singularities are not.?

?Perhaps, these two black holes are artificial.?

?Not natural?  Placed at a specific point in space and therefore a specific time, for a particular purpose??

?Considering all that has passed, is that beyond reason??

?No, I suppose not.  But if they were placed in specific places to allow our future viewing, the placer certainly was quite the soothsayer.  I mean, whomever did it had to know at least 1000 years in advance exactly when the event we might want to see, or that they wanted us to see, would occur.  That way, the light careening away from Earth would reach the precise point that a conveniently placed artificial singularity could boomerang the light back towards a future Earth observer just in time.  Same, but easier for the one 16.5 light years away.  And if that is indeed what happened in both cases, then whoever situated those singularities chose their positions wisely.?

?How so??

?There isn?t any ?clutter? around either of the two.  No star systems or cloud nebulae to feed the black holes and get them emitting the cornucopia of charged particles normally associated with a singularity.  Almost like the placers, or architects, searched for areas within our galaxy which were most like the empty void we erroneously consider space to be.  Placement of the singularities in such bare regions would allow optimal performance as natural lenses, the better for us to more clearly see those haloes.?

?Makes sense, but we haven?t even been able to accurately determine the exact distance to that farthest black hole.?

?That?s our failing, not theirs.  The concept is actually pretty simple, in theory.  But because of the enormous distances, and the tiny delta involved with the angles involved in our attempts to triangulate, our solution always comes out indeterminate.  Or at least with a wide margin for error.  Those two astronomers in Los Angeles did a hell of a job figuring the distance within a hundred light years.  They were close, very close.  With each observation we get a little more accurate using trigonometric parallax, but our viewing point is only moving a few hundred thousand miles a week, and the distances we are trying to measure are hundreds of light years.  Considering light moves at over 186,000 miles a second, you can see the problem we are having.  But you make a good point.  Based on the first black hole revealing the circumstances of our births on Christmas, thirty-three years ago, we are all assuming that the farthest one of the two is placed so that we might witness the birth of the prophet Jesus sometime in September.  But it might equally be placed so that we can witness the birth of Mohammed, on 29 August, 570 CE.?

?That might be a stretch, Dr. Singh.  Our best guess to date, based on that ever-increasing accuracy you just mentioned, is that the far singularity is out about 1000 light years, give or take a few decades.  For the boomeranged light to herald in the Prophet Mohammed, the black hole would need to be over two and a half centuries closer.  I think that?s way too far outside the margin of error.  Like you said, those two astronomers at Palomar refined the position well within such a disparity.?

?But the historically assumed month of the Prophet?s birth closely aligns to that of Jesus.  The end of August through mid-to-late September.?

?You?re still stretching it, Dr. Singh.  Why?  I didn?t think that you were a devote Muslim.?

?I?m not, I?m Hindu.  Well, sort of.  I love Big Mac?s.?

?How is that??

?Well, I?m from India, though I am not some rags to riches phenom who pulled himself out of poverty by his bootstraps.  I was born to wealthy parents in New Delhi, residing close to embassy row in that city.  It didn?t take a flash of light to make my life special.  We had the best that my poor country, with its billion plus population then, had to offer.  Living a rather idyllic, pampered life I was able to ignore the religion that my father and mother hoped I would follow.?

?You rebelled against Hinduism??

?Not so much rebelled, as ignored.  Humans are so adept at ignoring things that they do not wish to face, or are afraid of.  And I?m really no different than the wealthy in so many regions of the world.  Look to the middle east, where the affluent followers of Islam drink, curse, and whore around in the depraved playgrounds of Dubai, Qatar, and Europe.  Or look at the comrade leaders in China, who play in the rarified strata of Shanghai, Hong Kong, or even Tokyo, while most of their population still lives in abject poverty.  And don?t even get me started on the United States of America.?

?And you are proud of that behavior??

?Not proud, but certainly not ashamed.  Really not anything at all, as for most of my life I choose to ignore the plight of billions, just like most of the privileged of the world.?

?Doesn?t say much for Mankind.  It?s as though, winning the lottery by privileged parentage or by the geographical happenstance of your birth is the only thing that really matters to determines a man?s worth.?

?Vance, you know all I have said is true.  You?ve been around as long as I have.  So, you can?t ignore the realities of the modern world.?

?You have no idea.  Why then are you even mentioning Mohammed, and a possible tie-in to the events of late??

?Until these latest two singularities were discovered, I would have told you that there wasn?t enough room in this vast universe for any god.  And there certainly weren?t any documented scientific facts pointing towards one.  But now, maybe I?m hedging my bets.  A little nod to self-preservation.?

?How so?  Is that why you mentioned praying a few minutes ago.?

?Look, I?ve really been seeking some sort of secular explanation for all of this.  Right now, though, everything is pointing towards Christianity, with Jesus Christ?s birth seemingly playing the major role.  If Christian ethos turns out to be the driving force in all of this, then I, like most of the privileged of the world, am probably in big trouble.  Not many of the Earth?s wealthy live what could be called a holy, or even modest, Christian life.  So, in my opinion, it wouldn?t hurt if another religion were brought to the forefront for at least a short while.  Perhaps not Hinduism, as we have so many gods and religious factions that I can?t keep up with half of them.  Let alone understand them.?

?Sounds like you think that we can somehow decide the nature of this force by placing our desires on it.  I don?t know where that idea came from.  And I?m not sure you have Christianity figured out too well, either.?

?No??

?Never mind.  Do you really believe that pandering to one religion or another might tilt all of our efforts towards some particular religion??

?Probably not.  But what are your religious tenants, then??

?I personally believe that the universe began with a big bang, which led to a big expansion, and then it slowed until it reversed and began to collapse, entering into a big compression.  That compression continued until everything condensed into a singularity, and then another big bang, stir, and repeat.  Been going on since the beginning of time.  Same movie, forwards and then backwards, with little to no possibility for change.  Maybe an infinite number of times, if my theory is correct.  Thus, the feelings of d?j? vu that man experiences all of the time.  However, I?ve been told that I might be wrong.  Many, many times.?

?Interesting.  So, you don?t think that the Christian God, or any god for that matter, went to all this trouble to put these black holes in these positions so that we could witness our births and then that of Jesus??

?My beliefs certainly do not exclude that possibility, or the reality, of a Christian God.  Though, I?m not exactly sure what we will witness.  Or when.?

?Neither am I.  Exactly!  But I?m working to figure that out, and I have been making some progress in that regard.  However, for the time being, I?m leaning towards the probability that this mysterious force is actually what it seems, and is going to reveal the birth of the Christian God.  That said, and I know that I seem to be talking in circles and hedging my bets in every direction; I do not know to what end.  I don?t know who is doing it.  Or what their motives are.?

?You?re making me dizzy.?

?Listen Vance, might the force responsible for all of these machinations just as easily intend for us to witness the birth of Jesus, only for such a revelation to turn out to be a non-event??

?That is a possibility I had not considered.?

?On the other hand, if God is the one orchestrating all of this, He is certainly showing quite a bit of celestial favoritism towards Christians, and as a result, alienating a world that is currently non-Christian by a wide margin.  A world that just might be burned to cinders, if Thompson?s negativity proves true.?

?And why wouldn?t He show favoritism to those on this planet that are correctly worshiping Him, the one, true God??

?First, it remains to be seen that the Christian God is the one responsible for all of these recent phenomena.?

?Currently true, but not disproven.?

?And second, how do we know that this Christian God, even if He is the one manipulating the BIG EYE, the Moon, and whatever else, is the only God around, and ultimately the creator of all things.?

?Again, you make good points.  But I think faith has to enter the picture at some point.?

?Faith?  Even if we do witness the birth of Christ, is it really that big a deal?  In light of Earth?s likely pending destruction, He would then be both the creator and the destroyer, with virtually no one left to give a damn.  Does it really matter then if He is the one, true God??

?Truth knows no favorites.?

?Samuel, you are an enigma.?

Singh signed off, stood up and stretched.  Talking to Vance was exhausting.  He decided that he needed a walk to clear his mind.  Luckily, his office at the Johnson Space Center was only a flight of stairs and a couple of doors separated from the paved walkways that crisscrossed the complex?s grounds.  As he meandered along the path nearest one of the small lakes near the center of the grounds, he considered his conversation with the noted scientist on the Moon.

He thought that the only absolutely accurate words that he and Vance had shared were his last.  The man was definitely a mystery.  Thinking back, he realized that Samuel hadn?t answered a single question, or even taken a strong position on anything that they had discussed.  Except, that is, for his big bang, big compression theory, which he immediately moderated by saying that his nonsense had frequently been found inaccurate.  Vance just seemed to facilitate the flow of ideas, without ever really saying a thing.

So why, Singh wondered as he walked the path, did he always feel like he was somehow being manipulated whenever he spoke to Dr. Samuel Vance?  He would have to ask the others what they felt about the man, though he didn?t know whether any of them had enough interaction with him to form an accurate opinion.  He did know that what he had told Vance was true.  He was a bit worried about how his life would be judged by a reborn Christian God, all hints portending his arrival taken at face value.

His walk took Singh under a rather large stand of trees on the north side of the small lake near the middle of the Johnson Space Center complex.  They provided welcome shade from the already hot Texas sun.  A slight breeze moved the leaves above him and coolly dried the perspiration that had formed during his short walk.  He chuckled, realizing how soft he had become, the too many years of Western decadence softening the hard edges of his early life in New Delhi.  In turn, that thought took Singh?s reverie back a couple decades in time.  A mirthless half smile slowly formed as he thought about his childhood in Delhi.  Sighing, he left the path, and strolled under one of the larger live oaks that made up much of the grove.  He sat beneath it, his back resting on the hard wood of its massive trunk.

He closed his eyes and it wasn?t long before he was back in Delhi, twenty years earlier...

CHAPTER 23

The monkeys were loud in the trees.  The two men walking slowly along the dusty street looked up to the brightness filtering through the branches.  The larger man, Vidur, glanced skyward, into the tall, leafy branches.  There was movement there, hard to pinpoint, but the monkeys were clearly agitated.  It was hard to imagine that the twelve million human inhabitants of India?s capital had to share their habitat with an ever-increasing population of dangerous monkeys.  The Rhesus Macaques were becoming more and more of a nuisance as they invaded populous cities in search of food.

?Twins, stay close,? Arjun, the smaller man, called out to the two youngest boys in the group of four hellions the two men warded.  The shoeless boys immediately stopped their exploration of a culvert on the side of the road and slowly began circling back towards the older boys in their group.  The twin brothers, burned dark brown by the relentless sun, were always addressed as a single unit, as they were inseparable.  They stayed close for a few minutes, but it wasn?t long before the two human scouts were once again venturing further away, excited by the object of their late morning adventure.  To them, to all the boys, it was as though they were actually taking part in one of the thrilling stories of Ramayana.

?Do you really think we might see one, Hanu?? asked the young Salman Singh, as excited as the twins.  The two older boys, Salman and Hanu, had been together since they were five years old.  When it became apparent that Salman?s mother would bear no more children, Salman?s father had hired Arjun, perhaps more because of his boy?s presence than any other qualifications.  His son needed someone to play with when he came home from school.

?Quiet, Ram!  If the geezers hear you, they won?t let us wander in directions we choose.?

Salman, aka Rama, or Ram for short, liked his nickname.  He moved closer to Hanu so that he could speak more privately to the other teenager.  The two somewhat lighter-skinned boys, as they actually wore shirts most of the time, were now thirteen, while the twins, who had first given Salman his ?Rama? nickname, were only ten years old.  Of the four boys, only Ram wore shoes, expensive sandals that protected his feet from the sharp dangers of the sometimes-unpaved roads.  Other than the twins, the four were unrelated to one another, but were closer than most actual siblings.  Hanu and the twins were the children of various servants employed by the Singh estate.  Hanu?s father, Arjun, was major-domo of the Singh household, and warded what transpired with Salman.  Today, he wasn?t too concerned with the safety of his charge, at least not so far as the monkeys were concerned; not with Vidur along for the walk.  The inaptly called Vidur was the household muscle, maybe a bit slower-witted than his name implied, but quick to action and more than capable when danger presented.

?Are we close?? Ram asked, in a lowered voice.  He could just make out the opulent homes generously spaced within the trees that surrounded them.  There were also high walls and iron fences bordering the road they walked, which encircled the affluent residences beyond.  They were hovels compared to the Singh compound, located within the nearby Embassy district of New Delhi.

?I think so.  It should be after we turn to the right up ahead,? he said, motioning towards the next cross street, about two hundred yards away.

Unlike the adults, they hardly noticed the gaggle of monkeys in the trees around them, which would normally have been the object of their attention.  No, they were interested in validating the rumor of a dead body in the area.  Hanu had overheard some maids in the Singh household talking about the corpse earlier that morning.  Apparently, a man had been electrocuted trying to scavenge some metal from a power transformer; a common tragedy in Delhi.  The poor victim was probably just trying to get enough metal to trade for a few rupees; maybe to purchase a cool Kingfisher beer to rinse the ever-present dust from his throat.  If the boys were lucky, they might reach his body before the sanitation crews carted it away.  Hanu and the twins had seen numerous bodies up close before, as corpses were more commonplace within the poorer areas of Delhi which they frequented.  But Ram had only seen them from the back seat of his family?s Mercedes, and was keen on seeing one up close.

As it turned out, they didn?t get to see the body.

Just before they reached the crossroads, a large Macaque monkey moved into the street ahead of them, blocking their way.  In the blink of an eye, Vidur had left Arjun?s side and was standing in front of the boys, less than ten feet from the posturing monkey.  The two primates looked at one another warily, a scene that was actually played out on a fairly regular basis in Delhi.  The large Macaque initially barred its teeth, but then sat on its rump as the first of its own charges began to cross the road behind it.  A whole troop of monkeys slowly made its way over the asphalt, from females to toddlers to old, worn warriors.  The boys whistled and taunted the skittish monkeys, all the while the crossing guard huffing and throwing out its chest and jutting out his chin, making sure they didn?t get too close.  All its posturing was actually for show, as it never got up to enhance the menacing display.  Once its troop had all passed, the big Macaque stood and barred its teeth one last time, but hesitated following.

Vidur smiled and reached into his pocket for the piece of nan he kept there for just this eventuality.  He tossed the bread towards the monkey.  With unexpected grace, it nonchalantly, but nimbly, plucked it out of the air.  The Macaque thrust out its chin and barred its teeth one last time, then turned to follow its troop onto the grounds of the elegant property that spanned the righthand side of the road from where they stood to the crossroads ahead.

?Well, that?s enough excitement for one day,? said Arjun, dashing the boy?s hopes of seeing the dead body.

But disappointment was par for the course in their lives, so they didn?t even protest.  And the only one that could have possibly made an objection didn?t say a thing.  Salman didn?t feel like throwing a fit.  Besides, even just sitting there, the big Macaque had startled him a couple times, eyeing him more closely than any other of the boys.  So, the six humans turned and retraced their steps, not taking too long to return to the Singh compound.  Once there, the adults went their separate ways, while the boys looked for more mischief, the dead body no longer on the docket.  They were agitated, their plans dashed by a pesky monkey.

Ram knew just the remedy for their disappointment.

Setting the twins as lookouts, he and Hanu ventured to the elder Singh?s liquor cabinet.  The coast clear, he sent Hanu to his room to fetch two plastic water bottles Ram kept there, one full of filtered water and the other empty.  A year earlier, he had manufactured a makeshift key for the old lock on the cabinet, his father none the wiser.  He took the key from his pocket and had the lower door open in a flash, not the first time that he had accomplished this particular operation.  He pulled out one of the many unopened bottles of Tanqueray gin that his father kept in the lower cabinet.  When Hanu returned with the two water bottles, he carefully opened the gin and poured a full measure of the alcohol into the empty water bottle.  He then used the water in the other bottle to replace the missing quantity.

Unfortunately, just as he was finishing up, one of the twins came barreling around the corner to warn Ram that his father had gotten home early, and would no doubt be coming to the library for his afternoon nip.  Startled, perhaps overly jittery because of the episode with the monkeys earlier, he knocked over the liquor bottle.  Not really a big deal, except the bottle fell against one of the hard legs of the cabinet, and the mouth of the bottle suffered a little nick.  Where that sliver of glass went was anyone?s guess.  Not much alcohol spilled, and Salman quickly used his pantleg to sop up any trace.  He replaced the cap on the bottle, which miraculously still fit, and put it last in the row of full bottles, at the far back of the cabinet.  There was no way his father would reach that last bottle for years, as new bottles were always just placed in front, whenever the latest one was finished.

No worries.

Like rats, the four boys scattered from the library just as the elder Singh entered the room.  Shortly after their hasty disappearance, they reunited, gathering in one of the far rooms on the estate, the gym, which got little, to no use.  The gin was then dispersed fairly evenly between them, with each boy taking a sip, in turns, until the last drop was gone.  Buzzed, the boys talked excitedly of the unseen cadaver that they were sure had already walked away of its own accord.  In absentia, they disparaged the pesky monkeys for messing up their planned adventure earlier in the day, belittling them for preventing them from viewing their prize.

Late the next afternoon, Arjun summoned the boys to the library, where Salman?s father was sitting in his favorite chair.  His bare feet were propped up on the leather ottoman, his right big toe adorned with a small Band-Aid.  Hanu was the first, and only, of the boys to notice the bandage on the man?s foot, see that the liquor cabinet was open, and put two and two together.  Hanu was not so slow-witted as Vidur.

?Master Singh, I?m sorry that you cut your foot.  I was dusting off the bottles, having noticed that the ones in the back rarely get used, and I accidently dropped one, chipping the top.  I could not find the sliver of glass, but obviously, it found you.?

?So, that?s what happened here??

?Yes, Master.?

?Interesting.  But my cabinet was locked.?

?I think it must have been unlocked or the lock no longer works, as I was easily able to open it.  As I was dusting.?

?You didn?t try to steal my liquor?  Didn?t drink any of my gin??

?No sir, no, I did not!?

?So, you dropped the bottle while you were cleaning the dust off of it,? he stated, his eyes piercingly probing the boy?s defenses.

?Yes, sir, I did,? Hanu said.

Not once during the exchange did Hanu glance towards his friend, Ram.  That would surely have doomed them all.  For his part, Ram finally caught up with the situation.  And though he was slow catching on, he had noticed something that Hanu apparently had not.  There were two water bottles on top of the liquor cabinet, one full and the other empty.

?Just you cleaning my bottles?  Only you??

?Only me.?

?You didn?t take any of my gin?  And you don?t know anyone who might have??

?No, sir.?

?Salman, do you believe him?? he asked his son.  His father swung the penetrating beam of truth in his direction.

?I am sure that Hanu is telling the truth,? he said, jutting his chest and jaw out, like he had seen the big monkey do the previous day.  But he couldn?t keep the pose when his father glanced up at the water bottles on top of the cabinet.  Arjun was quiet during the entire exchange, looking straight ahead at the library?s distant wall.  The twins were quiet, not sure what was going on, but very nervous, all the same.

?You have nothing to add??

?No, father.?

His father looked at him for a long moment, then glanced at Arjun, who had closed his eyes at some point.  The patriarch exhaled slowly, looked at Hanu with a slight nod, and then told Salman and all the boys that they were dismissed.  He asked Arjun to remain.  Salman was unaware of what was said after they all left.

Early the next morning, Arjun and all fifteen of the staff, along with the four boys, were assembled in the Singh estate?s main courtyard.  The air was cool, the Sun not yet rising above the trees that encircled the large compound.  Salman?s father was there, as well, his silver Mercedes idling just outside the garage.  Somewhere, unseen in the trees, a bird twittered, and was answered by another, as the world came alive.

The elder Singh handed Vidur the whip he had been holding in his hands as the staff had gathered.  The big man took it and moved to the center of the courtyard.  In the half light, it was difficult for Salman to read his father?s face.

?Hanu, step forward,? he said, looking not at Arjun?s son, but at his own.  Wide-eyed, Salman didn?t know what to do.  He was torn.  After all, Hanu was the one who had told the lie.  Though they had all drunk the gin, he was the one who had lied.  The twins, beside their mother, looked terrified.  Salman hadn?t asked Hanu to lie.  Besides, Hanu was poor, not rich like they were.  He was just a servant?s child.  Surely his father didn?t expect him to come to Hanu?s defense.  Not now.  Did he?  No one spoke as Hanu slowly moved to stand before the large man.  There was no expression on either Vidur?s or Arjun?s faces.

?So, you are a thief,? Salman said, still not looking at Hanu.  Only him.  And then he looked at each of the other boys.  The twins hid behind the hem of their mother?s saris, beginning to whimper.  Rama, once steadfast companion of the brave Hanuman, had nowhere to hide.  No one spoke.  The twitchy end of the whip in Vidur?s hand traced a thin line in the sand at his feet.  It seemed an eternity to Salman.  His father waited a few heartbeats longer than eternity, and then, finally looking at Hanu, passed judgement.

?Four lashes,? he said.  Salman gasped.

But he said nothing.

Hanu never let out a cry, not from the sting of the first to the unbearable cut of the last lash.  The punishment over, he slumped to one knee and began quietly sobbing.  Salman?s father stepped forward and gently put his hand on the crying boy?s head.  Then he walked over and shook Arjun?s hand, got into the back seat of his Mercedes, and ordered the chauffer to take him to work.  The servants crowded around to console Hanu as their patriarch drove away.

Salman didn?t see Arjun and Hanu again, not after that day.

For years, the twins stayed in the household, long after Salman went off to university.  He came back often, and they all became fast friends, and the nickname they had given him stuck for all of his life.  He stayed Rama, or Ram, to his closest friends.  But he never found another Hanu.  The gap between the rich and the poor, especially in India, is vast, with the poor always left to bear the burden of the rich.

Salman?s father died more than a decade before the Moon began to move, when Salman was but twenty-one years old.  As luck would have it, Salman was blessed to get back to India just in time to say his goodbyes.  The flight from Zurich to New Delhi had been exhausting, but Salman went straight to the ILBS, Institute of Liver and Biliary Sciences, where his father was receiving treatment.  Entering his room, he was shocked at what he saw.  His father was so frail looking, the liver disease having melted the pounds from his once sturdy frame.

?Father,? Salman said as he moved to his bedside.

?Salman, is that you?  They said you might come.?

?Yes, I came straight from the airport.?

?Good, I could not have waited much longer.  No, I don?t think so.?

His father had gripped his hand, weakly.  Then the cadaver-like man had closed his eyes and grown quiet.  More than once Salman became frightened that his father had died.  But the sheets continued to move up and down, not in a rhythmic cadence, but jaggedly, his father?s body struggling to stay alive.  Suddenly, the old man began whispering, barely loud enough for Salman to notice.  He bent lower to hear his words.

?In the end, we all pay for our sins,? his father struggled to speak.  ?Perhaps I should have let you keep cutting my gin with water, and then maybe my liver would not have rotted so quickly.  More, I was too hasty to punish the wrong thief.?

The words hit Salman like a slap to the face.

?Father??

?Stop.  I made sure that Arjun and Hanu were well taken care of.?

?I?m??

His father squeezed his hand, stopping him from saying more.  A tear slowly rolled down Salman?s cheek, in unison with the one tracing a damp line down the old man?s face.  His grip finally loosened, his battle almost over.

?You?ve been a good son, Salman,? he said.  ?? find? proud??

And then his father had died.

Salman had stayed a while in India after his father?s death, spending some time with his mother at the estate, and some visiting his old haunts in Delhi.  He made some enquiries about Arjun and Hanu, but there was no record of where they had gone, and by 2021 New Delhi had become a sprawl of almost forty million inhabitants.  The twins had no idea, and Vidur had left his father?s household some years previously.  It was an impossible task, beyond even the scope of a Ramayana adventure.  Ultimately, Salman donated a large share of his inheritance to various charities throughout India, though maintaining more than enough money so that financial problems wouldn?t hamper his studies.

It was a penance, of sorts, but he remained unfulfilled.

In Houston, Salman slowly pushed away from the tree trunk as he stood, brushing some debris from the seat of his pants.  He took a deep breath and began walking back towards his office.  He was a lucky man, he knew.  And he had become quite the philanthropist at an early age, a trend he had continued.  His life had been easy, and he still had the best friends in the world.  Brothers.  And finally, academically, he had done great things, and he would probably soon be rewarded for them.  Maybe even with a Nobel Prize.  Though he knew he had earned it, Salman ?Rama? Singh just wished he deserved it.

CHAPTER 24

The weather eventually cleared over Hawaii.  The cyclone there had been a monster, lingering over the islands for almost an entire week.  But behind the storm, the air was crystal clear, perfect for viewing the skies, and our nearest star.

?Images from Hawaii are coming online,? said Miller.  The BIG EYE?s control room was packed, practically every human on the Moon crowding into it, to see what the verdict was.  The BIG EYE had provided great images of the Sun, the massive sunspot, and the Coronal Mass Ejection, but it was not meant to study such phenomenon.  The DKIST telescope in Hawaii was designed for just that purpose.

?Put them up on the central monitor.?

Director Thompson and Dr. Vance were in attendance, running the show.  Miller complied.  Immediately, the screen filled with almost an identical view of the CME that they had been able to see with the BIG EYE.  But this time, the filters and algorithms available at the Daniel K. Inouye Solar Telescope were able to resolve the Solar mass into a quantifiable product, measuring amplitude, density, and frequency along with a myriad of other parameters.  And the results were not too promising, at all.  The CME appeared to be growing.  Not conclusively, but the data definitely projected an expansion far beyond Venus?s orbit.

?How far out??

Miller bent to his computer, doing his level best to answer his boss.  He fed in the data accompanying the visual images being forwarded from DKIST, and set his AI routines to crunching the numbers.  It didn?t take long at all to get a result, but a limited conclusion.  The CME was surely increasing, but it was still too distant for the DKIST to really ascertain exactly how far out its effects might be felt.

?Even if the Sun stopped pumping out the plasma today, the flare will still travel at least far enough for its remnants to intersect Venus?s orbit.?

?Damn it.  We already suspected that.  Hell, we will be focusing on Venus tomorrow with the BIG EYE to see how that planet weathers the CME.  What we need is a better understanding on exactly how strong this solar flare is now!?

?I understand.?

?Specifically, we need to know how far out this freaking solar torrent is going to reach!?

?The newest modeling, with the data from DKIST, indicates that the looping arm of material will extend further than the halfway point between the orbits of Venus and the Earth.?

?Yeah, so how much further??

?I can?t really ascertain that from this data.?

Director Thompson stormed off, heading towards his office, Dr. Vance close on his heels.  Vance could see that the Director was frustrated.  With the BIG EYE as yet unable to resolve the halo into more than a fuzzy ring of light, he knew that his boss wanted to at least help figure out what was going on with the mass of solar particles and energy that just might be bearing down on Earth and all humanity.  He closed the door to the office after they entered the room.  The Director sat down at his desk, fidgeting at the mound of paper littering its surface.

?So, the mass will engulf Venus, devastating it and stripping it of its atmosphere, and then what??

?We don?t know, Director.  Earlier projections had it stalling somewhere between the orbits of Venus and the Earth, but much closer to Venus.  Now the DKIST analysis has it going much farther than that.?

?How far??

?Unknown.?

?No good news, eh?  What do you think??

?Here on the Moon?  Should the CME reach this far with anything near the strength it showed on Mercury, we will surely perish.  We have no atmosphere; we have nothing to blunt its onslaught.?

?Thanks for pointing out the obvious.?

?You?re welcome.?

?What are we doing here, Vance?  The world, hell, all of humanity might be on the brink of extinction.  And we?re sitting around staring at haloes.?

?Yes.  But someone, or at least something, set us chasing our tails.  I, for one, would like to see where that leads.?

?Even if you might perish long before we can observe the event we are supposed to witness??

?I don?t know what we are to witness.?

?Nor do I, my friend.  Nor do I.?

At just about the same time the two men were having their conversation on the Moon, a couple of planets closer to the sun, two other human beings were having their own doubts.  The Solar CME had already come and gone from their tiny planet, leaving them on the brink of disaster.  The exterior of their cave habitat had been decimated, and they didn?t know whether or not they would ever see the light of day again, on Mercury or any other planet in the Solar System.

?What do you think?? Paula asked.

She was checking their oxygen generators.  Luckily, they were working like a charm.  She figured that they could survive for quite some time in the cave complex before they failed.  But to what end.  They were trapped.  Water was plentiful; they could possibly work out some sort of hydroponic food source, again to survive for months, even years.  But again, the question remained? to what end?

?I think we are screwed.?

Steve was always a perfect purveyor of the obvious.  The CME had virtually melted all the stone above them.  He had just come back from the final seventy-degree bend in the tunnel leading to the external door of their makeshift habitat.  Nearer the surface, the tunnel had collapsed some, and he had tried to evaluate how long it would take them to dig out of their tomb.  He was standing in the middle of their ?living room? with his helmet tucked under his arm.  He looked tired, defeated.

?That bad??

?Yeah.  There?s a bunch of rubble we would need to clear even before we reach the outer layer, which is surely solid, reconstituted rock from the maelstrom we witnessed before our external camera gave out.?

They had watched in horror as the CME had melted away the Icarus instrument and viewing platform, and then scraped away meters of the crater wall above their hiding place.  Miraculously, their original habitat had seemingly survived intact, at least to the point in time when their little viewing camera had ceased operating.  Of course, the interior temperature would surely have baked them, but the structure had held up rather well.  As for their current abode, their new hidey-hole had provided sufficient protection for them to weather the storm.

?Well, so far as this cave system is concerned, we probably have enough oxygen, water, and can grow enough food, to survive indefinitely.  And I bet that we can drill a small hole to the surface so that a thermal generator can be rigged up so that all of our energy needs can be met.?

?Towards what end?? Steve echoed her thoughts.

?To wait for rescue.?

?Rescue?  Ha.  I think that the force of that CME was far greater than what we had previously measured, or anticipated.  I haven?t gotten on the computer to confirm that, as it would all be guesswork, but I think this solar storm is going to reach Earth.  And maybe way beyond.  There isn?t going to be anybody around to rescue us.?

Paula had never heard Steve utter a negative word.  By reputation, he was rumored to be quite pessimistic.  But she had always thought him more a realist.  So, what he was saying was frightening enough, but hearing him say it was worse.  She walked over to him, stopping just an arm length away.  She reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders.

?I don?t care,? she said, firmly squeezing his spacesuit-covered shoulders.  He looked confused at her words.  She continued.

?I don?t care if there is no one to rescue us.  We are going to survive.  Maybe as freaking cave dwellers, the sole remnants of Mankind, but we are going to survive!?

She watched her fellow troglodyte; resolve slowly returning to his countenance.  He began nodding.  After a while, the grim gash on his face morphed into a smile.

?Yeah, you?re right.  We will survive.  And right now, we are going to find a way to get to the surface.  We need to get the word out to the Earth and Moon so that they can make every preparation for the coming storm.  If we can survive, albeit in a cave, maybe some of them can, as well!?

Paula put on her spacesuit and then followed Steve back out through their main improvised airlock into the cave system.  They had pickaxes with them, and one final thermal charge that she had found when she unpacked the mass of equipment she had taken from Icarus Base.  She was in high spirits, bolstered by her success in getting her fellow astronaut motivated.  Unfortunately, the feeling was short-lived.  The pile of rubble was more daunting than she had imagined.  But she kept her new reservations to herself as they bent to the task.  The going was slow; and three times they had to return to their plastic palace to rest and to refill their oxygen tanks.  They had decided to keep that last thermal charge to punch through the final molten cap that surely blocked the cave?s mouth.

?Hold it,? Steve said.  ?I think we have reached that last panel that you put at the entrance.?

He moved aside so that she could see.  And yes, there was the top of the panel, with only about a ton of debris piled up against it for them to clear to uncover their door to the outside.  She was confident that the panel was that last one that she had put up.

?I think there remains another five feet beyond the panel to the surface.?

?I think that you?re right.  Let?s clear this side and then call it a day.  I?m bushed.?

?Deal!?

CHAPTER 25

Tony helped Charlene out of the car, steadying her as she took that long step from the military-police vehicle?s rocker panel to the pavement below.  She was so light, such a tiny thing, he thought.  Why had he ever believed he would need the knife in his pocket to dispatch this last member of the Christmas chosen?  His bare hands would easily suffice.  And chosen for what, he had no idea.  No one did, but all of them kept pressing on, no matter what, blindly working towards an unknown end.  And she had to be a crucial link, had to be, so her elimination would surely stop all the craziness.  He had never harmed another human being in his life, and he didn?t relish the task ahead of him.  But he was tired of being played, and wanted this lunacy to end before they someway precipitated a grand revelation elevating God on high.  He knew that God did not deserve to be glorified in any way.  He didn?t really have a plan to stop that from happening, all of his previous maneuvers having failed.  But he felt he needed to act as soon as possible.

This afternoon would have to do.  His timid efforts to derail Thompson?s project so far had been totally unsuccessful.  Messing with Farber?s software program was one thing.  Repeatedly destroying Nader?s mockup had been an escalation.  Murdering Kam would be like going nuclear.  And he would be throwing away his own life at the same time.  He knew that it would be worth it.

?Thanks,? she said, looking up at him with smiling eyes that stirred memories past.  He quickly looked away, shaking away a fleeting, childhood sentiment.  Or at least trying to.

Tony Brooks was already a bit discombobulated by the synchronicity of the moment, having immediately recognized the neighborhood earlier, when the military vehicle they rode in had left the freeway.  He was more than a little familiar with the tree-lined street that they had finally turned down, though he had never paid much attention to the businesses or buildings along it.  At least twice a week, for almost two decades, he had visited this older suburb.  Over the course of those passing years, it had been swallowed up by the ever-expanding organism of the Houston metropolis.  But he had always loved the homey feel of the neighborhood, and thought it a perfect setting, far removed from the bustle of modern-day life.  He looked over Charlene?s head to the south, but couldn?t make out the small private hospital he knew to be there.  With an effort, Tony turned his attention to the task at hand.

They had just arrived at Houston?s Heavenly Home for the Silent.  There was a middle-aged nun standing on the sidewalk in front of an old brick building that housed the group that Dr. Kam had interacted with that morning a few weeks earlier in the Hilton lobby.  Subsequently, Tony had learned that she had actually started visiting Houston?s Heavenly Home prior to that, but no one at NASA had known that at the time.  As she had been unable to discover her place in the cosmic game being played at Johnson Space Center and on the Moon, she had decided to make constructive use of her time, at least until her role became apparent.  And besides, she really loved playing with the children.

?Welcome back, Charlene,? said the curator of the Home, speaking aloud for Tony?s benefit, all the while hand-signing her greeting to Dr. Kam.  Of course, the signing was not necessary, as Charlene had gotten very good at lip-reading during her many visits to the establishment.  And besides, like Tony, she was not deaf and could hear every word the woman was saying.  The nun was just signing out of habit.

This was Charlene?s tenth visit, and she planned many more.  But the visits were becoming a little more difficult.  The outside world had turned a bit ugly regarding the activities underway at Johnson Space Center.  As faith of any kind had fallen out of fashion over the last few decades, the ones who had fostered that loss seemed determined that it would not be found again.  And they were in the majority, so were not a force to be ignored.  The demonstrations around the perimeter of the ?safe zone? comprising the Hilton and the Space Center had been escalating daily.  And there had been numerous altercations between the believers and the naysayers, with the National Guard acting primarily as referee and trying to keep things under control.  No deaths, yet, but the fervor of the clashes was escalating.  Tony knew that it was only a matter of time before the Christmas-born group was sequestered at the Johnson Space Center.

?Happy to be back, Sister Mary, and thank you for allowing me to visit.  I would like to introduce you to my colleague, Tony Brooks.  He is here to babysit me, as he feels that we might be in danger.  Ha!?

Tony was certain she said this aloud for his benefit.  But after he shook Sister Mary?s hand and thanked her for allowing him to accompany Charlene on her visit, they fell into a silent conversation of hand gestures while walking through the Home?s gated entrance.   Tony lost interest, and fell behind a couple of steps, looking to his right and then to the left.  His spider sense activated as he noted two nondescript cars parked to the north, with men sitting silently in their dark interiors, watching their arrival.  Probably nothing, but ever since his childhood incident in Pedernales with his sister, he was constantly wary, always on guard.  And the more recent episode at the entrance to Johnson Space center, with the brick smashing the rear window of the police vehicle, was fresh on everyone?s mind.

However, the men stayed in their vehicles as they opened the gate, traversed the courtyard beyond, and then entered the building without incident.  Too bad.  If they had been bad guys with ill intent, he could have let them do his dirty work for him.  No such luck.

Once in the Heavenly Home, they walked down a long hallway, open doors on either side leading to various functional rooms.  He saw an infirmary, what looked like a small gym, a kitchen, and a good number of offices, most unoccupied, but some having nuns leaning over desks, doing paperwork.  None of those occupants looked up at their passing, Tony guessing them hearing-impaired, as the name of the institution might lead one to suspect.  They continued on.  Nearing the end of the hallway, where a set of double doors blocked their progress, Tony began to hear children laughing and screaming.  Sister Mary opened the doors and ushered them inside.

Almost immediately, the yelling, laughing and screaming subsided.  It was as though all of the room?s occupants had been awaiting their arrival.  Tony felt a shiver move up his spine.  As one, the children dropped whatever they were doing and started moving towards Charlene.  Moths to a flame?  No, not quite.  Iron filings to a magnet?  Perhaps.  Water over a waterfall?  Closer.  Tony had only experienced this kind of behavior once before in his life.  Well, he had never experienced it, but he had certainly witnessed it, and not once, but many times.  The yearning, the uniformity, the inevitableness of the children?s movement reminded him of every time he had entered the park in Quito, Ecuador with his sister, Tonia.  These children, like those so long ago, sensed something in Charlene.  Some magical force that drew them to her, pulled them to her, like there was no way to resist.  Tonio felt weak at the knees, luckily able to sit at a nearby table before he stumbled.

Spellbound, he just sat and watched.  The scar, high on his forehead, began to throb.  He clenched and unclenched his hands, squeezing the blood out of them as he drew in great gulps of air.  He was mesmerized.

Charlene met the kids in the center of the room, and they all gathered in curved lines to face her.  Not in a circle, but like an orchestra facing a beloved conductor.  And she greeted them all and was greeted in turn with a mighty, unintelligible, indistinguishable yell.  Then silence, as all their hands began fluttering, trying to get Dr. Kam to acknowledge and answer their questions.  The looks on all their faces were pure joy, and some were even crying.  And one by one, they would leave the ranks to come up and touch Charlene, and be touched by her.  Like they were kissing the Pope?s ring and she was absolving them of original sin.

He could only see the back of her head, but Tony didn?t need to see the expression on Charlene?s face.  He knew it well, from decades ago, knew what it had to be.  He knew that it was the perfect reflection of all the happy young faces before her.  Pure joy.  Tears suddenly wet his cheeks.

The knife in Tony?s pocket became a blasphemy.

?Amazing, isn?t it??

Tony had not even realized that Sister Mary had moved to sit beside him at the table.  They were still near the entrance of the big room that apparently doubled as both the cafeteria and the playroom for the residents of Houston?s Heavenly Home for the Silent.  He glanced over at her, making no effort to wipe the dampness from his face.  Looking back at Charlene, he saw that the smaller children were now taking turns to climb into her lap, while she doled out hugs and intimacies to the older ones that approached her.

?Is it always like this when she visits??

?From the first time we met her, when she showed up here unannounced, looking for children to help.  And then again, when we visited her that one time at the Hilton by Johnson Space Center.  Were you there??

?No, I met her a few days before that, at the Center.  And I don?t stay at the Hilton.  I actually live just a little over a mile from here.?

?I see.  Well, whenever Charlene is going to pay us a visit, the children become agitated.  No, that?s the wrong word.  They become pleasantly apprehensive, expectant, like it?s Christmas Eve, and the presents are about to be opened.  And in actuality, we don?t have to let the children know that she is coming.  They sense it.  That is why I was waiting at the sidewalk when you arrived.  We knew she was coming today, just not when.  I just walked out front when their restlessness seemed to have reached a peak.?

?They sense it??

?It?s the only way I can explain it.  Have you ever seen anything like this??

?Yes, I have.  My sister had the same effect on the children at the park where we played in Ecuador.?

?So, you know.  Watching Charlene with these children, I imagine Jesus.?

?If this is what Jesus could evoke, then perhaps worship would be appropriate.?

Sister Mary was a bit taken aback by Tony?s statement.  She had erroneously assumed that he was one of the faithful.  She knew that Dr. Kam was a Buddhist, but most people in the United States, at least those that still retained some sort of religious conviction, were Christian, with blacks even more likely to follow the faith.

?I?m sorry.  You don?t believe??

Believe?  Of course, he believed.  He believed that God had taken his mother from him before he ever got a chance to know her.  He believed that God then took his father from him, twisting the grief of his wife?s loss into alcoholic absentia.  And he believed that God had then allowed his sister to be brutalized in the most malevolent way possible, before prematurely taking her away from him, as well.  He seethed inside, but kept his reignited hatred to himself.

?Sister Mary, I believe.  I do.  I just lost my faith long ago.  If I ever had it.?

?Yet you say that your own sister has the same power that Charlene has.  And you don?t feel the spiritual connection??

?Had, Sister, had.  For all intents and purposes, she died when she was only thirteen, and now exists in a perpetual coma, residing in a small hospital not too far from here.  Taken way too early for there to be a God who really cares.?

Sister Mary grew quiet.  Tony felt the hardness creeping back into his heart.  It was soothing.  He wiped the wetness from his face, stood up, and walked over to the group in the center of the room.  He moved around the children, so that he could see Charlene?s face.  She immediately saw him, smiled and nodded her head.  And then she went back to entertaining her child audience.  Tony walked on to the far wall, bending to get a drink at the water fountain there.  He turned and leaned back against the wall, comfortable in his rekindled hatred.

But not for long.

For the next hour Tony watched Charlene be with the children.  He had to use the word ?be? as there was no other way to explain it.  She did not attempt to entertain.  She did not try to instruct.  She simply melded into their needs.  It was magical to watch the joy she brought to these handicapped children.  Though Tony?s heart remained hardened to a God he did not understand, the love he suddenly felt for Charlene, the spiritual reincarnation of his Tonia, made any thought of harming her absolutely abhorrent.  This woman truly was one of the chosen.  Chosen by whom, and for what part in the cosmic theatre currently running, was irrelevant.  Charlene Kam was a miracle, and was to be protected at all costs.  He would find another way to disrupt God?s plan, if it were indeed divine.  No fresh tears streaked Tony?s face.  His countenance hardened with determination, but with a different mission.

Finally, Sister Mary intervened in the spectacle, holding her hands up to signal that it was time for the assembled audience to move on to other activities.  Surprisingly, there was no great show of disappointment.  The children knew that Charlene would return.  One by one, they all got in one last kiss, and then began moving to line up along the left-side wall, where the cafeteria staff was handing out food.  Tony had not even noticed them setting up.

?Would you like to stay for lunch??

They thanked Sister Mary for the invitation, but Charlene insisted that she didn?t want to be even more of a distraction.  The good nun nodded her understanding, gave Tony?s arm a reassuring squeeze, and then after a flurry of silent communication with Dr. Kam, she left them to attend her flock.  Tony and Charlene left the room, exiting through the same doors by which they had entered.

?That was fun,? Charlene said as they walked back down the long corridor.

?Yes, it was amazing to watch.  Have you always had that effect on children??

?Oh, heavens no.  For the longest time, I didn?t even know they liked me!  That?s probably because for most of my life I never had the opportunity, or even desire, to be around them.  But even before our summons to Johnson Space Center, I had started helping out at a center for hearing impaired children.?

?That?s where you got your lip-reading abilities and fluency in sign language??

?Had nothing to do with those children, or even these at Houston?s Heavenly Home for the Silent.  I am a communication specialist, after all.  And when I was getting my doctorate, the daughter of one of my cousins living here in Texas suddenly lost her hearing.  So, I studied both lip-reading and sign language to help out.  It was fun.  Her learning facility is where I first started interacting with children.?

Another seemingly innocent piece of the puzzle fell into place.  Tony knew everything was intertwined.  But who was the prognosticator?  Who was tugging on the puppet strings?  All that he knew was that this woman had suddenly become someone very special, at least to him.

They stepped outside the Heavenly Home for the Silent to a beautiful spring day.  The sun was just an hour beyond directly overhead, with only a few puffy white clouds in the sky.  Their armored police vehicle was returning shortly, Tony having called them before they exited the cafeteria.  From the courtyard, he could see that it was coming up from the South, and was about a block away.  As they exited the exterior gate, Tony looked to the North, noting that the cars from earlier were still there, but were now empty.

He sighed in relief, but prematurely.

Two men suddenly appeared and were walking rapidly towards them from the South, along the sidewalk on their side of the street.  Two more were crossing the street in front of them, having materialized from behind one of the large oak trees that were evenly spaced along the peaceful avenue.  Both groups would reach them before their police vehicle arrived.

None of the men appeared to be armed.

Thankfully, no one in the United States was armed anymore.  The repeal of the 2nd Amendment ten years previously, along with the accompanying draconian penalties for possessing firearms, had disarmed the American population.  At least its law-abiding citizenry.  Two of the men rapidly approaching Charlene and him, one in each pair, were reaching into their pockets.  Tony did the same, retrieving the knife he had in his pocket.

Unfortunately, the axiom, to ?never bring a knife to a gunfight? proved true, once again.  The two men had pulled guns from their pockets, apparently not part of the law-abiding citizenry that worried about penalties for fire-arm possession.

?Get down,? Tony yelled at Charlene, who quickly complied.

That left him as the sole target, so he started to dodge and weave a bit.  The first two bullets fired were well off their mark, it being harder to strike a moving target with a handgun than most people think, especially with little, to no practice.  The third hit Tony in his left shoulder, even as the shooters and their accomplices closed in on their intended victims.

That's when the second, less well-known, but equally applicable axiom of ?if you have a gun, don?t get within stabbing distance? proved true, as well.

Tony, knife in his right hand, lashed out at the nearest armed assailant, viciously slashing his gun hand, and forcing him to drop the weapon.  He continued his swing, pivoting its arc to thrust the knife deep into the other armed man?s chest.  That one immediately fell to the ground, his gun still held in an iron death grip.

Unfortunately, Tony?s switchblade lodged in the falling man?s ribs and it was wrenched from his hand.  That allowed the other two unarmed thugs to reach Charlene and him, undeterred.  One man began to pummel Tony, while the bigger of the two began to unmercifully kick the prone woman.  Charlene valiantly tried to ward his savage kicks with her delicate arms, but her efforts were futile.  Blood splashed from her mouth as one of the man?s boots connected with her face.

Though he was beginning to feel the effects of the bullet in his shoulder, Tony found renewed strength.  He smashed his fist into the man in front of him, stopping his onslaught, and snapping his head back.  Tony flashed him a grim grin, then watched the man?s eyes roll back and his knees begin to fold under him.  He turned to face the giant who was kicking the life out of Charlene.

As he took his first step towards them, out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed that the first armed assailant, whose hand he had slashed, had retrieved his weapon from the sidewalk.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he heard the roar of a big engine, but he concentrated his efforts on the bastard with the gun.  The man was awkwardly lifting the gun with his left hand, getting minimal support from his right, blood pouring out of the wound that Tony had inflicted.  But the man was determined.  He aimed the weapon towards Charlene, who was all but lying defenseless as the big man continued to savagely kick her, now in the stomach.  The brutes knew their target priorities well.

Tony flung himself forward just as the man with the gun finally found the strength to pull the trigger.  He saw the flash of the muzzle and then heard the deafening roar of the shot, time slowing down to a snail?s pace, as is often the case in such situations.  Something hard kicked him in the side.

Almost simultaneously, three things happened.

First, Tony fell to the sidewalk, his eyes locking with Charlene?s.  He felt a searing pain in his back and chest, which quickly escalated toward the unbearable.

Second, a crescendo of gunfire erupted with the screeching arrival of their military police vehicle.  At least the police had been allowed to retain their firepower, for now.

Third, their faces pressed to the sidewalk, Charlene smiled at Tony.  With that bloody smile, he allowed himself to bathe in her divine gaze, in her infinite joy, and finally found peace.

?Thank you, Tony,? Charlene mouthed, no strength left to add breath to the words.

?Tonio,? he said with his last breath, meaning to say Tonia.  But they were one in the same, cleaved by the same brilliant light.  Life, pain, and hatred finally drained from him; his pawn sacrifice complete.

At that moment, in a small private hospital just one block away from the Heavenly Home for the Silent, a rotund African American nurse hurried to the room of the institution?s longest standing resident.  Ida Louis Montgomery opened Antonia Brooks? door and rushed in to silence the monitor that had started beeping incessantly.  That done, she looked down at her patient to see what the bother was all about.  Her eyes widened in shock.

?Is that a smile I sees on yo face??

Of course, she didn?t really expect an answer, even though it was the brain function monitor that had alerted her, detecting heightened activity.  It had done that numerous times over the years, but never had Antonia?s countenance ever changed, if anything growing more and more dour.

Not this time.

Just barely discernable, Ida could see that Antonia had the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  She stroked the young woman?s forehead, moving back a curl that immediately jumped back to where it had lain.  A tear was running down Antonia?s cheek.  Joy?  She couldn?t wait to tell Mr. Tony about his sister?s change in condition, the next time he visited.  She loved Mr. Tony, one of the few relatives that actually visited their stricken family members on a regular basis.

?Tis a miracle, tis,? Ida Louis said, laughing aloud.  She loved it when any of her comatose patients had any change, especially when that change was so much for the better.  The nurse made Antonia more comfortable, as best she could, all the time wondering what in the world had happened to make her smile.

CHAPTER 26

The light was getting closer, though Charlene Kam wasn?t sure if she were the one approaching it, or if it was moving towards her.  Regardless, she found it comforting, beckoning.  She wanted to reach out, to run her hand through its warmth.  There were figures in the light.  Moving.  Swirling.  Reaching for her.  But then she had the feeling that the light wasn?t even real.  A hallucination.  It was dark, wasn?t it?

?Not yet.?

Even as Ida Louis was wondering why Tonia was smiling, Charlene was questioning whether or not she would ever smile again.  She was doubting if she was going to do anything, ever again.  And she was hurting all over.

?Not yet, what??

Not sure if she had actually spoken, Charlene tried to open her eyes, but that appeared impossible.  Which was fine with her, as all she wanted to do was sleep.  And maybe never awaken.  Her part in this puzzling celestial endeavor was totally unclear, anyway.  She had no purpose she had been able to discern and could almost feel herself slipping towards a welcoming oblivion.

On a more tangible level, she could tell that she was in a hospital room, smelling the antiseptic of it, but the bed was surprisingly comfortable.  It was dark.  Wasn?t it?  All except for the swirling light, which surely wasn?t real.  At least, all she could really see was darkness, but wasn?t that to be expected with her eyes still shut?  Was the room itself dark?  She would have to open her eyes to check, but she no longer had the strength.

If not her, then whom had spoken?  Who had answered?  And who was holding her hand?

Again, it would have taken functioning eyeballs to make any accurate assessment of her current circumstances.  Instead of opening them, Charlene settled back into the cushiony bed.  It was so comfortable.  The hand?s grasp, the one holding hers, grew firmer.  What the hell; all she wanted to do was sleep.  Or maybe to be swallowed by the impossible shimmering light, which had somehow returned.  She grew a bit annoyed with the hand?s unwanted touch, though its warmth soothed as much as irritated her.  Her head began hurting again.  Which in turn made her ponder why she was in a hospital, if that was where she was.

Then she remembered.

Tony.

She remembered him looking into her eyes as life fled his body.  Remembered him dying.  Saving her.  She started crying, there in the maybe darkness.  Why had she come to Houston, and then ultimately gotten involved in all of this?  She had been perfectly happy in Galveston, helping her older cousin.  Teaching her cousin?s deaf daughter how to communicate with a world that surely seemed foreign to her.  Sign language was much more expressive than anyone imagined, much more so than the spoken word.  Though some singers were absolute masters at wringing emotion out of their audience with the words they sang.

She wished she could sing.

But that was not her talent.  If she had any talent, that is.  Charlene supposed her eidetic memory was a gift.  Especially to those who struggled to remember even their children?s birthdays, their spouse?s favorite color, or, God forbid, their anniversary.  And her photographic memory was even more unique.  Unlike most gifted with such a capability, her memories were not so fleeting.  The images etched on her mind were not so short-lived as in others that possessed the eidetic gene.

She could remember everything.

Or at least as close to everything that she had ever thought humanly possible.  That was why she was so good at languages.  Even sign language, which she had come to Galveston to help her cousin?s daughter perfect.  That, in turn, had prompted her to expand on her Master?s degree in communication, and to later get her doctorate at the University of Houston.  Ultimately, she would be granted a fellowship at the same university, pursuing the synchronicity of ancient languages with current technologies and studying the unexpected parallels of the past with the present.

So, it was a gift.  Until it wasn?t.

Which made another thought drift across her limited, scattered consciousness.  Before she had ever entered the Houston Hilton and met Michael Farber there in 2033, and before she had seen Derek Thompson on that big screen at the Lunar Control Center that same year, she had seen both of the two men.  Well, she had seen younger versions of the two of them.  It had been over a decade earlier, almost a lifetime.  But the two men would have been memorable, probably even to someone without a photographic memory.

Charlene had been traveling from San Jose to Houston for the first time, via Salt Lake City, when she was just twenty-one years old.  Had packed up and left immediately, as soon as her boss in Silicon Valley startup where she worked had told her that a two-week notice would not be needed.

Adios, San Jose!

?Charlene, I need your help with Mattie,? her cousin, Ming, had told her just a week previously.

?Is there anything wrong?  Is she ok??

?No, nothing new, not really.  But she is starting to have trouble fitting in.  It?s preschool.  And they try to help her, but it?s just not enough.?

?Ming, it?s always tough for someone with a disability to fit into the general population, let alone to find their place in this modern society.  Sometimes it?s even difficult for those of us who don?t have a handicap.?

?Yeah, I know.  But with the baby almost here, I can?t give Mattie the attention she needs.  I know that you can sign.  And read lips.  And she loves you.  And you have told me you are not that happy in California.?

Her heavily pregnant cousin had called her, asking her for help, and she had agreed.  Immediately.  As she always did, happy to help anyone in need.  Was that a character flaw?  She didn?t think so.  Besides, it was family.  She had jumped at the chance to join Ming down in Texas, and to help her with her hearing-impaired daughter.

But then again, maybe she had acquiesced so quickly for other reasons.  Like maybe she was fleeing California to get away from the toxic relationships she had there.  Both in her career and in her personal life.  She hated her work in San Jose almost as much as she hated the man she had too quickly been living with, now for over three months.  Well, she realized that hate wasn?t the right word, as she didn?t really hate anything.  Charlene was disappointed with her high-tech job and was equally disappointed with Don.  Yeah, that was a better word.  The job wasn?t that bad, just unfulfilling.  And she knew that deep down, her new roommate was a good man, but he hadn?t figured that out yet.  Even though Don was somewhat abusive.  No, he had never hit her.  But the mental torment she endured made her wish that he would just go ahead and smack her around, at least once.

But he didn?t.  Ever.

Yet she still found herself, at the tender age of twenty-one, sitting on one of those oh-so-comfortable airport chairs early one morning, questioning if perhaps she had been a bit too impulsive.  She could have said no to her cousin.  She could have emersed herself in the once-exciting career she had begun in Silicon Valley.  She could have tried to make things work with Don, who could probably have been molded into the great guy she knew lay just beneath his rough surface.  She could have done a lot of things.  But didn?t.

Right then she was lamenting the fact that she could even have gotten a later flight out of San Jose to Salt Lake City.  Traveling West to East was always such a pain.  Even getting up as early as she had, it would still be late afternoon before she made it down to the Texas coast.  Of course, the three-hour sit between her connecting flights wasn?t helping.

She was tired.  Drained.  Fairly dripping from her chair, her eyes heavy, she had almost missed the younger Thompson storming by.  The future Director of Lunar Operations was rapidly traversing the connecting lobby between the SLC concourses, a backpack slung over his shoulder, and what appeared to be a Bible in his right hand.  Anxiously, perhaps angrily, slapping the book against his hip as he powered by where she sat.  His antics caught Charlene?s attention, rousing her from her stupor.

And then she saw the young man stop and get in line at a Starbucks coffee shop, just a short way from where she sat.  Charlene decided that a cup of coffee would taste pretty good, so she got up and strolled over to join him in the line.  Though drawn to him, she was hesitant to strike up a conversation with the man, agitated as he obviously was.  But he happened to glance back at her, and any man that looked back and saw a woman like Charlene standing next to him would be compelled to say something.

?Oh, hi,? he said, probably not the smoothest of operators in the best of circumstances, but the unexpected appearance of a beautiful woman was apparently enough for him to temporarily forget whatever had him so upset.

?Hi,? she replied, fully aware of how introverted she normally acted.  Was it a demure attribute of her Asian heritage?  Or was she just naturally shy?  She thought it the latter.

?A good cup of coffee is just the ticket, this early.?

?Then you are in the wrong line.  I think Starbucks coffee always tastes burnt.?

?Burnt?  Yeah, maybe a little.  But you?re in line right behind me, so you must like it well enough.?

?Ha, you have me there.  Actually though, I saw you walking along and you interested me.?

?What??

The younger Thompson looked a bit taken aback at her forthrightness.  Embarrassed?  Maybe.  Even she was shocked at her brazenness.  She looked down at the book in his hand, and yes, it was a Bible, and then she looked back into his eyes.

?I don?t mean to pry.  But you looked?, you look, troubled.?

They had made it to the front of the Starbucks line, so their conversation was temporarily interrupted.  At the barista?s query, he requested a black coffee, and then insisted Charlene add her latte venti to his bill, for which he further insisted on paying.  They walked together to a nearby table that had fortuitously just come available.

?Troubled, you asked?  Though no, you didn?t ask.  You observed.?

?I did.?

And suddenly, unexpectedly, he was talking, telling her all about his recent troubles.  They were doozies.  She sat quietly as he wove a tale of ecstasy, commitment, intrigue, and betrayal, throwing in a little illicit sex and violence.  It would have made a great Hallmark movie, but the undertones were way too dark, too sinister for that network.  She listened raptly as the stranger poured out his soul, him somehow attuned to the empathetic core of her being.

?Wow,? she said when he finished.

?Wow, indeed!  I don?t know where that all came from, or why I opened the floodgates on you.  I?m so sorry.?

?It?s ok.  Happens all the time.?

?Really.?

?Yeah.  And I don?t think this episode, this mess, will always define you.?

Huh?  She wasn?t lying to him, certainly not about the first part.  Many a person, even strangers like him, would impulsively, and suddenly open up to her.  And she rarely had to say much, or prompt them in any way.  But they would open up, and always seemed to feel better after spilling things to her.  Just like this man now seemed more relaxed, the agitation perhaps placed on the back burner?  But how could she ever know that his current angst would not define him?  And why had she assured him that it wouldn?t?

In that moment, the airport?s public address system started announcing the final call for a flight to Boston.  The young man got an alarmed look on his face.

?My flight, damn it.  I have to run.?

He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.  He seemed torn.  Probably wondering about her comments.  He stepped over to a nearby garbage can and threw away his nearly full cup of cold coffee.  She had never seen him take a sip.  She followed him to the same receptacle and tossed her empty cup in after his.

?Boston??

?To where it all began, I guess?  Full circle?  I don?t know.  I think that I can get a teaching position at Harvard.  They liked me there, at one time.?

?I?m sure that you will.  I think that you are destined to do great things.?

Where the hell had that come from?  She was certain that she looked as perplexed by that comment as he.  He shook his head, came to some decision, probably the safer one, and turned to run to his gate.  He had only taken a few steps when he stopped and turned.

?I don?t even know your name.  Mine is Derek.?

?Kam,? she said, not knowing why she used her last, and not her given name.

?Nice to meet you, Kim? he said, mishearing her name, and turned once again to hasten to his surely-missed flight.

?We?ll meet again,? she said, sure that he didn?t hear her, by that time sprinting down the ?C? concourse to his gate.  She didn?t know why she had said that last, but she was certain it was true.

After talking to Derek, well, mainly listening, Charlene found herself totally drained.  The latte venti had not in any way reenergized her, and she moved down Salt Lake City Airport?s ?B? concourse to now sit at her gate, in yet another absolutely uncomfortable chair.  It didn?t matter that it felt like she was sitting on a rock bench.  She still had another hour and a half to wait for her flight, and she planned to sleep a bit before then.

But that didn?t happen.

Just as she was making herself comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible, someone happened to plop down in the chair behind her.  And, as the two chairs abutted one another, his arrival jostled her from her almost-finally-blissfully-asleep state.  She looked over her shoulder, somewhat annoyed.

?Sorry,? said a young man as he placed his backpack between his legs.  She didn?t think he really meant it, but like Derek before him, he seemed to immediately become interested in her.  Ah, the perils of beauty.  Charlene laughed at the thought, as she didn?t really consider herself beautiful, no matter how wrong her perception was.

?That?s ok,? she said, feeling her tiredness receding to the back of corners of her mind.  She turned in her seat, the better to interact with this latest interruption.  The man looked as haunted as Derek had.  And, she felt drawn to him, as well.  Strange, twice in one day.  Literally, minutes apart.

Mirroring her action, he turned in his chair, and gradually they formed a floating little bubble of privacy, adrift in the bustling clamor of the awakening airport.  His eyes had dark semicircles beneath them, as though he had not slept in days.  Like Derek, she sensed that he was walking along a tightrope, blindfolded, with the wind picking up unexpectedly.

?Are you headed to Anchorage, too??

?No, heading South, to Houston.?

?Probably a better choice.  I?m Michael.?

He seemed to be questioning his next step along the dangerous high wire he traversed.  She instinctively knew that he felt certain oblivion would result from a misstep.  He offered his hand to Charlene, in greeting, or was he grasping for help?

?Hi, I?m Kam, nice to meet you,? she said, again wondering why she offered her surname.

?Why Houston??

?I?m actually going to Galveston to help my pregnant cousin with her hearing-impaired daughter.  I?m a bit of a communication specialist.  So, when she asked, I agreed.  Why Anchorage??

?Stopover.  My journey is certainly not done once I reach there.  I have to catch another very small commuter flight up to White Horse, on the frontier.  Have you heard of it??

?Yes, and I?m sure your journey is not done even once you reach that frontier,? she said, immediately wondering what had prompted her to say that.  Like Derek earlier, Michael got a puzzled expression on his face, and then he began to talk.  Slowly at first, then rapid-fire, like the thoughts would disappear if he didn?t say the words quickly enough.

Here we go again, she thought.  And as with the other young man, she was mesmerized by his story.  He spoke for quite some time, their eyes locked, unwavering; the people in the seats beside them invisible.  Time seemed to slow down.

?Wow!?

It was d?j? vu, all over again.  Another man teetering on the brink.  One that Charlene would later come to realize was a younger version of the Michael Farber she would meet over twelve years in the future.  At a Hilton, near the Johnson Space Center.

?I?m sorry,? he said, pursing his lips.

Michael was apologetic, surely shocked at his outpouring.  Like Derek?s story, Michael?s tale was wrought with love, betrayal, hope and despair.  And just like Thompson?s story, his wasn?t likely to become a Hallmark special anytime soon.  But Charlene could feel his pain beginning to subside as he recounted his last few month?s travails.  As with Derek, she felt his angst diminishing as he spoke to her.

She slowly became aware of the world outside their little bubble.  An announcement was made, and the Anchorage flight began boarding.  Michael looked distraught at the broadcast, looking about as the people around him on his side of the opposing row of chairs began making their way towards the jetway.

?Timing,? she said.

?Why did that happen?  I don?t normally go around recounting the traumas of my life to complete strangers.?

?Don?t worry about it.  Interesting story.?

?Yeah, I suppose.  Disastrous, though.?

They were quiet for a while, as the Alaska-bound passengers left their rock-hard seats, anxious to get on the airplane, where only slightly more comfortable seats awaited them.  Finally, Michael was the only one left in the gatehouse, the agents doing paperwork at their little counter.

?I don?t think it will define you.  Not ultimately.?

The puzzled look on Michael?s face once again told her that she may have overstepped her bounds.  Second time within an hour, and to two different people.  But she had felt compelled to do so.  The young Michael Farber had then turned and left, heading towards the jetway boarding door, the agent appearing a bit frustrated with his slow progress.  He hesitated once more at the door, looking back at her and giving a slight wave.  Though he couldn?t hear her from the distance separating them, she smiled and continued in the same vein as she had with Derek?s parting.

?I?m sure that we will meet again.?

Her encounters with the younger Derek and Michael were cathartic.  Before meeting them, she had already noticed how people tended to confide in her.  And in the ensuing years, while helping her cousin out with Mattie, she had discovered that children were even more inclined to gravitate towards her.  To put their trust in her.  To somehow be comforted by her presence.  But this was different.

She knew that she had somehow profoundly helped both Derek and Michael, in their hours of need.  And thus, she had already helped in the cosmic opera that she had been struggling to find her part in.  Charlene had found her purpose!  It was also the first time she had any sort of premonition.  She had foretold meeting the two of them again.  And she had been correct in that prediction.   It remained to be seen if the recent hardships of their young lives would define either man.   Though, that really didn?t matter, not to her.  She had found her purpose, she could rest.  In peace.

?I said, not yet!?

The emphatic voice jarred her out of her reverie.  In the darkness, with the shimmering light almost within reach, she had yet another intuition.  Maddingly, she knew that the voice had spoken truth.  She again felt unrest, sensing that her place in everything was still unresolved.  The shimmering light, with the swirling shapes and almost unbearable allure, began to recede.  The voice had startled the light and the shapes away.  Whoever had spoken, whoever had hold of her hand, released it with a final, reassuring squeeze.

?See you soon, Charlene.?

She suddenly gasped for air, finally opening her eyes to a dimly lit hospital room; a nurse rushing over to tend to her abrupt, unexpected movement.  No one else was around.  But it didn?t matter.  She now knew she had a purpose.  Charlene didn?t know what that purpose was, but she knew it was a crucial.

Tony had died so that she could live and find out what it was.  And she certainly would not let him down.

CHAPTER 27

Back at the Johnson Space Center and the Hilton, the three other Earthbound members of the chosen were oblivious to what had just happened to Tony Brooks and Charlene Kam.  Dr. Singh was still trying to correlate everything currently known about black holes and somehow reconcile those observations and facts with the two newest singularities, which did not seem to have many commonalities with any similarly classified objects discovered earlier.  Dr. Nader was still a bit unhappy that the Director had started building her device without any sort of testing.  Though, truth be told, she was secretly pleased that the man had displayed such faith in her to follow such a risky course of action.  The third Christmas-born scientist was self-sequestered in his room back at the Hilton.  Michael had discovered that he could get more work done there than he could at the Space Center.  Besides, he wanted to stay away from the other primary players in this game for a while.  He needed uninterrupted time to assimilate all that had happened, especially in light of the newly discovered fact that not everyone was happily aboard this Christian bandwagon.

He sat at his desk; his fingertips once again expectantly poised above his laptop?s keyboard.  He had just awakened from a catnap he may or may not have been taking, no one the wiser.  But on waking from that possible torpor, he had felt something wash over him.  It wasn?t a vision.  No, nor was it like the vivid memory he had experienced when he had thought about Claire a few days earlier.

But it was definitely something strong.  A feeling?  An urging?

And about, or to do, what?  He had no idea.  But whatever it was, it got his creative juices flowing again.  He had just finished debugging his newest data enhancement program and had decided that it was just about ready for an operational test.  That would have to wait now, as another powerful idea pushed into the dim edge of his consciousness.  It wasn?t an epiphany, per se, but whatever had awakened him from his nap had definitely made its discovery possible.

Michael bent over his keyboard and began typing.  It was easy at first, outlining the possible routines that suddenly made sense to link in a grander scale.  He unexpectedly thought of a different way to examine massive amounts of data, to register terabyte-sized blocks like mere bits, and twist them to his bidding.  He opened the Artificial Intelligence protocols on his laptop and allowed the AI to begin coding his ideas.  He was still amazed at how computer programing, and actually just about every facet of science and human endeavor, had been so significantly enhanced by incorporating AI into the mix.  Ultimately though, his work began to slow.  Even with the AI input, his efforts were quite tedious, and required a massive amount of concentration on his part.  Apparently, he became quite immersed in it, working at the process for hours without a break.  And he fell into something of a trance, almost totally unaware of what transpired around him.

It took Michael a long time to even recognize that the banging on his hotel room door was something that needed attention.  He stood up and stumbled over to it.  When he opened it, Monique, absolutely distraught with emotion, fell into his arms.  Not fell, not exactly.  She just seemed to force herself into his embrace, hotly melding into him.  And her action was not sexual in any way, he recognized immediately.  But human.  Needy.  Actually, necessary for her survival.  They stood there for some minutes, the door open, as her body shuddered in its despondency.

?Tony?s dead,? she whispered.

?What??

?Charlene and Tony were attacked in Houston, just outside that Heavenly Home kid?s place that she has been going to.  Apparently, Tony was shot as he shielded Charlene from the same fate.  He died at the scene, and she is at the hospital right now being treated for a possible concussion, a broken arm, and some minor wounds to her hands, legs, and torso.  She hasn?t regained consciousness yet, having also sustained a number of vicious kicks to her head.?

Michael was in shock.

Sure, there had been growing concern in the media about what was going on with the Moon. And there had obviously been some friction around Johnson Space Center between the military, the police, and the growing, restless crowd.  The brick throwing incident was still fresh in Michael?s mind.  But killings?  How had it come to this?  Perhaps he needed to pay closer attention to what was going on in the world.

?Dead?? was all he could muster.

?Yes.?

They remained standing there for some time, motionless in their own private thoughts.  Finally, Michael reached out and closed the door, and then lead Monique over to the bed.  She immediately got into it, slid under the covers, and then pulled herself into a tight ball.  He joined her, spooning her still trembling body.  He wrapped her in his arms, forming a stationary, protective cocoon.

But his mind was racing.

This didn?t make sense; not in the scenario he had been forming in his mind about what was going on in Houston and on the Moon.  Michael thought back to the chain of events that had led to this current catastrophe.  The BIG EYE had begun moving of its own accord just prior to Christmas, 2032.  This ultimately led to the discovery of a black hole 16.5 light years away.  Then, Dr. Vance had somehow come up with his absolutely-totally-out-of-the-blue boomerang theory of light.  That insight had allowed him and Director Thompson to witness the bright, heavenly-punctuated births of the seven chosen members that later became the key players in the now unfolding cosmic play.

For some reason, they had then hidden the BIG EYE?s strange behavior, the discovery of the proximate black hole, and the illuminated births of the seven scientists from the public.  For more than two months!  But at the end of February, when the Moon itself had started to move and point the BIG EYE at yet another singularity, out about 1000 light years, they had been forced to acknowledge that something strange was going on.  The cat may have been out of the bag, but Thompson and Vance continued to be quite secretive.  Finally gathering the four Earthbound scientists in Houston early in March, the two lunar scientists had revealed to them, along with Tony, the miraculous circumstances of all their births.

Michael had gotten an inkling that something was amiss that first day in Houston, and not just because he thought the Christian correlations of the entire situation preposterous.  Sitting at the conference table that first evening, while the others recounted the circumstances of their illuminated births thirty-three years earlier, he had used his computer pad to validate Director Thompson?s claims, and had in the process found a duplicate record of Tony?s birth in Quito, Equator.  It could have just been a simple clerical error, and he had ignored it, with all that had transpired since.  He hadn?t even mentioned it at the time.  And he had pretty much forgotten about it, until the sabotage in Houston began and then the episode with Tony?s clipboard occurred.

He had even kept his growing suspicions that Tony might be up to no good to himself.  After all, he had no real proof, and unless he were given the chance to review the security tapes to ascertain whether or not they had been tampered with, he couldn?t be sure.  And sure, of what?  That someone else, like him, might not like where this whole mess seemed to be heading? but was actually doing something about it?  In a way, even if his suspicions were correct, he admired Tony?s determination.  He had even considered confronting Tony, not to threaten exposure, but to possibly offer him help.

Now, neither course of action would be possible.  Tony had selflessly died protecting Charlene, one of the chosen.  That certainly wasn?t the act of someone trying to sabotage their efforts.  And his sacrifice certainly didn?t fit with the ?evil twin? scenario that Michael had thought might be going on with Tony.  But even he knew that his misgivings were farfetched.  If there had indeed been two children named Antonio born that day in Quito, both bathed by the heavenly light, where was the second twin now?  In his mind, Michael rationalized that the bad twin, presumably Tony, had somehow dispatched the good twin, whereabouts unknown.  In some ways that made sense, because evil is constantly trying to thwart good.  And most books and movies for the last few decades seemed to have a similar theme, with good ultimately triumphing over evil.

At least, most of the time.

In this case, Michael wasn?t sure that there was a good side.  It certainly seemed like the evil side was throwing the haymaker, and the good side was just giving humanity the ability to see it coming.  Well, not even that.  The CME spewing from the Sun might be coming no matter what, and all the good side seemed to want was for Mankind to witness the birth of Jesus Christ.  For all the good that would do.  Well, he supposed that some sliver of humanity, at least those who followed that particular religion, would know that their faith had been justified.  And if Christianity?s origins were shown true, then it followed that those who believed would be saved.

Michael wasn?t one of them.

He gave Monique a hug and she let out a big sigh.  She no longer shuddered in his arms, perhaps the shock of Tony?s death finally beginning to dissipate.

?What?s going to happen, Michael??

?I don?t know.  I don?t know the who, the what, the when, and most importantly, I don?t even know the freaking why for anything that is going on now.?

CHAPTER 28

Though they couldn?t help seeing what was going on with the Moon, only a miniscule segment of the home world?s population was actually involved with the recent unexplained phenomena occurring there.  However, the most recent events on Earth were extremely disquieting to everyone on the Moon.  The entire lunar population was living and breathing the happenings every day and every night.  The personnel working at Johnson Space Center were equally involved.  So, anything that affected anyone in their small circles, or even space in general, affected them all.

The plight of the astronauts on Mercury was disturbing, but there was still a slight chance that they might have survived.  And in the unforgiving realm of space exploration, even a statistical improbability was a blessed lifeline.

Tony Brook?s death, on the other hand, was a reality, and was like losing a brother.

?He gave his life bravely, for the sake of another.?

Just about everyone who lived on the Moon had once again gathered in the BIG EYE?s main control room to pay homage to a brother mowed down in his prime, over two hundred thousand miles away.  Thompson had been talking for half an hour, and had just finished his moving tribute.  As he looked around, he saw many of the gathered scientists and technicians wiping tears from their eyes.  Somehow, he had managed to power on, and not choked up during his delivery.  Emotions were running high, everyone on edge with the mass of solar debris possibly hurtling towards them all.  And Director Thompson recognized that he was losing control.  His team, on both the Moon and the Earth were at their breaking point.  They needed something, anything positive, to re-motivate them.

He was confident that Monique?s device would deliver just what they needed.

?Ok, everyone.  Since most of us are gathered together here now, let?s get BIG powered up.  Dr. Nader, are you ready to see how well your device performs with no testing??

?Sure, let?s give it a whirl,? came her reply, a little over two and a half seconds later.  Her voice was almost a whisper, the wind taken out of her sails.  There was a certain futility in the air, and she wasn?t immune to it.

The Lunar Control Center down in Houston was just as packed as BIG?s control room.  There were not many dry eyes in attendance there, either.  Michael stood behind Monique, his hands resting gently on her shoulders.  He looked to his left where Ram and Charlene stood.  Her head hanging low, her shoulders were still shaking slightly from the sobbing fit she just couldn?t seem to recover from.  Her grief over the loss of the man who had saved her life knew no bounds.  Even though her black hair hid some of it, Michael could see her face?s severe swelling and bruising.  As with her injured arm, it would take weeks for that to heal.  Ram had his own arm around her shoulders, his head bowed with hers.  Michael could see, but not hear, that he was gently whispering something in her ear.  She nodded slightly, and his words seemed to quiet her pain, somewhat.  Moved to synchronicity, Michael gave Monique a comforting squeeze as well, and she swayed back into him, just a bit.  Thompson was still talking.

?Let?s hope for some good news today.  God knows we could use some.  Miller, is the Nader device ready to come online??

?Well, it?s plugged in.?

?Ok, let?s bring that beautiful halo up on the screen, and then let?s see if the Nader device can improve the resolution a bit.?

Miller nodded his head, and then powered up the BIG EYE.  He left the positioning motors off, as the unknown force was still controlling where BIG pointed, the entire Moon shifting microscopically to ensure that the far singularity was dead center in the middle of the telescope?s viewer.  That picture was filling the main screens on both the Moon and the Earth.  As soon as the lunar telescope came fully online, Miller threw a switch engaging the site?s mainframe computer, and Michael?s data enhancement program kicked in.  Almost immediately, the singularity, or at least the darkness that represented the black hole, came into view.

A dim halo circled the darkness.

?Still gives me goose bumps,? whispered Monique, looking up behind her at the man holding her tight.  Michael smiled, giving her a light kiss.

?Ok, here goes nothing.?

Miller toggled the switch that controlled Dr. Nader?s device.  Outside, on the BIG EYE?s lens, millions of electrostatic tendrils traced across its sixty-meter diameter curved surface, pulsating a billion times faster than a hummingbird?s wings.  With each pulse, every microscopic particle of dust, or cosmic debris of any size, was dislodged and flung further and further from its surface, like repeatedly snapping a dirty rug down on Earth.  Concurrently, the newly activated Nader ?screen? added a slight refractive layer of energy to the BIG EYE that exactly followed the curve of its lens, and as a side benefit, significantly improved its focal power.

On the large viewing screens in both control rooms, the effect was mesmerizing.  The view changed rapidly, as though they were all passengers on a rocket ship hurtling towards the black hole.  Shortly, it became clear that their imaginary ship was actually focusing on the topmost crescent of the halo surrounding the black hole.  The haze of that curved luminosity suddenly went dark, and after a few seconds was replaced by a faint star, which slowly grew in brilliance.  But that star, like the black hole?s halo a few seconds earlier, was not centered; evidently not their imaginary ship?s destination.  Their spectral craft seemed to be veering towards a dark area to the right of the star, which they all recognized as Sol, just two thousand years younger.  Slowly, a faint, pale blue dot emerged from the darkness, illuminated by the light of the Sun, no cities yet producing enough light to be detected from space.  ??a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam? was how Carl Sagan, the famous astronomer had once described a similar view of Earth, taken from Voyager 1 as it left the Solar System.

They moved closer, still.

Some slight definition became discernable on the sphere, just as their imaginary vessel came to a halt; the effect of Nader?s device finally reaching its limit.  From the vague outlines of the daytime side of the planet, the human observers in 2033 were able to recognize the familiar continents of a younger world.

Earth?s oceans were spectacularly blue, untainted by thousands of years of man?s contamination.  The white clouds that floated above the land and sea were pristine, the atmosphere void of any pollutant.  It was a young, beautiful world, full of hope and promise.  Looking at it, Michael, along with many others in observance, suddenly felt unclean, as though they had defiled a beautiful virgin.  Mankind had taken a nearly perfect environ and just about killed it.  Hell, was actually still killing it

The human race was unworthy.

After almost a minute of silence, Thompson broke the peace with a single word.

?Magnificent.?

A cheer went up on the Moon, echoed 1.3 seconds later on the Earth.  Both control rooms erupted into pandemonium; reminiscent of the bedlam that had broken out when Man first set foot on the Moon on July 20, 1969.  Even Michael felt a slight rush of pride, momentarily overriding the sour taste in his mouth left by Man?s treatment of his home world.

The Earth was a glorious gem, to be cherished.

For almost five minutes the chaos reigned, everyone trying to speak at once, congratulating one another on a job well done.  In that short time at least, the possible, pending destruction of Mankind was forgotten.  Michael allowed himself the celebration, giving Monique a solid hug, and then let go to embrace many a scientist and technician who came up to thank them both for their contributions.  He noted that one of the technicians, Michael thought his name was Brian Foster, wasn?t joining in on the festivities, still busy at his workstation.  He couldn?t quite make out what the man was working on, but it appeared to be a simulation of the Earth, its aspect changing as he scrolled through various angles of declination.  Michael walked over to the man?s workstation, leaving Monique to the crowd of men and women still lauding her for her wonderful device.

?Hey, Brian, what?s up?  Not in a celebratory mood??

He stood over the man?s shoulder and looked down at his computer screen.  It turned out that he was right.  The tech was toying with various positions of an Earth simulation, now slowly moving the azimuth of the poles from the perpendicular to more closely align with the view of the planet on the big screen above them.

The man started at Michael?s words.

?Oh.  Hi, Dr. Farber.  Sure, I?m stoked!  But I?m just correlating the relative tilt of the Earth on the big screen there, with what can normally be expected during any time of any given year.?

?And what have you discovered??

?Well, based on the position of the continents and the angle of the sunlight striking the planet on the screen, I?m pretty sure that the North America on the big screen above us is experiencing Spring, just like we are here in Houston.  To the day, April 4, year yet to be determined.?

?Amazing.  Great job, Brian!?

?The only downside that I can see is that the declination of our view is quite sidelong, so that we will only have a very oblique view of what transpires over Bethlehem when Jesus Christ is born.?

?That sucks.?

Of course, Michael didn?t think it sucked.  He was still absolutely ambivalent to what he thought was a charade being played out on a cosmic scale.  Obstinate, would probably have been a better word.  And he wasn?t alone.  There were throngs of people, thousands of them, in fact, gathered outside the perimeter of the Johnson Space Center that found all the Christian-leaning observations disquieting.  Of course, there were also some who felt the current revelations were justification for the glory of God.  Michael was not one of them.

?Maybe.  Then again, we might have a perfect view of the ?star? or whatever it was that shown over Nazareth at the time of His birth!?

?Yeah, that would be something.?

Yeah, sure it would.  How would they ever be able to determine the origins of that star, even if it were to appear?  Michael was having trouble swallowing any of the miraculous events unfolding on a daily basis.  Tony Brooks? sacrifice?  He had his own misgivings about that, which he had not shared with anyone.  Not even Monique.  Hell, the guy had died, and yes, he had died protecting one of the chosen.  But was that a noble gesture, or one that would have unforeseen consequences.  God, how he hated the pettiness of his thoughts.

Michael gave Brian another reassuring pat on his back, and then walked back to where the crowd around Monique had thinned somewhat.  He gently toyed with the amulet around his neck, looking up once more at his beautiful world.  Despite his own reservations, Michael knew that something untoward was afoot, and he determined that he would see this course through to the end.  The entire room was quieting, the magnitude of their accomplishment slowly dimming to the reality of their situation.  That was punctuated by the voice of Director Thompson suddenly coming out of the room?s public announcement system.

?Ok, people, and I mean everyone here on the Moon and everyone down there in Houston, as well.  It?s stunning, and we could easily spend hours just sitting here ogling Earth, but we need to steal a little bit of the BIG EYE?s time right now to check out another celestial event.  Venus will be entering the outside edge of the Solar CME within the hour and we will have the best view of that transit, at least until DKIST in Hawaii again comes over the horizon and they can begin observations.  That?s in about three hours.  In the meantime, maybe we can get a better idea of how strong that bitch of a solar storm is.?

He left out, ?and see how long we have before we perish.?  No need to discourage everyone without some sort of concrete evidence.  With that, he disconnected from the Lunar public address system and the audio link to Earth.  He left the video link live, as he knew everyone on both inhabited celestial bodies had a vested interest in what transpired with Venus.  He tapped on Miller?s shoulder.  The man looked back at him, a look of resignation on his face.  At that moment, Thompson realized that nearly everyone probably already shared his negative expectations.

?I know, Miller.  I know.  Let?s get BIG aimed at Venus.?

Miller complied, entering VENUS into the telescope?s main targeting control computer.  The ancient Earth vanished into thin air as the big lens immediately began swinging into position, its focal length changing significantly to better facilitate viewing an object so very much closer.  Still, everyone was excited to see what the images would be like, especially once the power of Dr. Farber?s data enhancement program, and Dr. Nader?s lens augmentation device were brought to bear on the second planet from the Sun.  The view would no doubt be spectacular, even if the information they gleaned from it might just spell their doom.  The scope locked onto the cloudy sphere that was Venus, just one planetary ring removed from Earth.  Its orbit averaged about 67 million miles from the Sun, with Earth?s orbit averaging about 93 million miles from their central star.  Of course, the two planets were farther apart than the average 26 million miles that separated their two orbits.  Their current positions along those orbits actually had the planets about 40 million miles apart.

The stealthy sphere slowly coalesced on the main viewing screen.  The veil of clouds surrounding Venus had always kept Man?s prying eyes from discovering her secrets, but with modern technology her mysteries had been sheared from her as easily as a bride?s gown on her wedding night.  The BIG EYE?s close scrutiny of the planet turned that observation into a strip search, especially with its more recent enhancements.  They were able to penetrate the clouds right down to the tender surface of the planet.

?There she is,? said Miller.

?Let?s pan out a bit, so that we can see the CME and its position relative to the planet.?

Miller complied, though it wasn?t often that a telescope technician was asked to degrade the magnification during the examination of a celestial object.  But he understood why the Director had done so in this case.  Venus was a beautiful planet that deserved to be studied like only the BIG EYE could, but right now the inspection of the Coronal Mass Ejection took precedence.

?Here?s the CME.  It already reaches way beyond Venus?s orbit, out to between 75 million to 85 million miles from the Sun.?

?That?s one monster of a solar flare.?

?I?ll say.  And DKIST?s last observation and analysis yesterday had it moving incredibly fast; about 150,000 miles an hour.?

?Earth?s orbit is 93 million miles out from the Sun.  Earlier projections had the solar flare dissipating by the time it was halfway between Venus and Earth.?

?Those figures were over a week old.  And obviously, they were inaccurate.  It?s already well past the halfway point.?

?But has it slowed at all?  Lost any of its strength??

?Can?t tell, yet.  It all depends on how much plasma is still being pumped into it by the Sun.?

?Damn, that?s why the loss of Icarus Base was so disastrous in so many ways.  On top of losing two astronauts, we lost the best Solar-viewing site in the Solar System.  Having already gone through the CME, they might have been able to accurately measure the density of what hit them, and could have taken a close look at the torrent of fresh material that is still streaming past Mercury.?

?Venus is approximately fifty thousand miles from the CME, and will contact the wall of particulate matter along its orbit in less than forty minutes.  The planet is orbiting the Sun at a little over 78,000 miles an hour.  Maybe with BIG EYE?s enhanced view of that collision we?ll be able to measure the density and speed of the CME.?

?We can only hope.  And we can pray that the resulting data shows good news for Earth.?

It didn?t.

Thirty-eight minutes later they witnessed the brutal rape of Venus, the total destruction of a world, or at least of its atmosphere.  Within minutes of entering the CME, the planet?s dense layer of clouds began shearing away, like dandelion seeds in a storm.  The process continued until all that remained of the planet was a charred, dead husk.  Thompson had expected as much, based on what the raging solar material had done to Mercury.  He knew that the interaction between the cloudy planet and the CME would not be pretty.  It wasn?t.  But he had hoped that the violent imagery would at least reveal that the mass was losing some of its potency.

That didn?t appear to be the case, either.

The Solar System?s two innermost planets were now almost identical in appearance, stripped of all atmosphere.  They were barren, lifeless rocks tumbling around an unforgiving Sun.  Looking about the BIG EYE?s control room, he felt a deep depression settling in.  And he could see that he was not alone.  All those still gathered in the room were staring up at the screen, their faces set in grim perplexity.  He knew he was close to losing them all.  The quicker their leader showed some sort of positive resolve, the better.

?Did you glean any useful data from the planetary interaction with the CME?? he asked Miller.

He had to nudge Miller twice before he answered his question, the man equally shocked by the violence they had all just witnessed.  Venus?s atmosphere had been obliterated in just a few minutes, but the planet would remain in the solar flare?s clutches for many more hours, continually flagellated by its hellish fire.  It was quickly disappearing from view, as though the dense coronal mass was swallowing it.  If that maelstrom reached Earth?s orbit, and then maybe spun out beyond Mars, Mankind would essentially cease to exist.

?Yes, Director, and we are working at correlating that data with similar interactions to build a realistic model of the CME?s future path.  Also, if we can somehow measure the effect that the CME might have had on nudging Venus out of its current orbit, we should be able to get a better idea of the strength of the outflowing solar material.?

?All right, let?s get to it!

Three hours later, Venus was still being scoured by the CME.  The BIG EYE continued to gather data as the scientists and technicians on the Moon tried to ascertain the strength of the solar stream.  DKIST had come online a little less than an hour previously, and personnel there were mirroring their lunar counterparts? efforts.  Unfortunately, as the planet had entered the storm, it had become harder and harder to observe, its body obscured by the particles bombarding it, as though it were a camel, walking away to disappear into a blinding sandstorm.  The BIG EYE lens just wasn?t equipped to penetrate that particulate fog.  And DKIST was having similar problems.  They ended up with an inconclusive result, the same non-conclusion delivered by the BIG EYE scientists.  The coronal mass was still strong, but might be a bit weaker than when it hit Mercury.  Or it might have strengthened, based on early analysis of Venus?s possible orbital change.  But neither they nor DKIST could get a good view of the planet because of the opacity of the CME.  Long story short, they couldn?t determine whether or not death was approaching their home planet.

Thompson felt himself losing it, and was about to boil over, despite his self-recognized role of calm in a storm.  But just then, one of the technicians back in Houston jumped up, reconnected the audio link between the two control rooms, and made an announcement over the public address system.  His words resonated through every fiber of every man and woman in Houston?s Lunar Control Center, and 1.3 seconds later did the same on the Moon.

?Mercury?s back online!?

CHAPTER 29

?You ain?t sharing, bud.?

Remmy shook his head, and then reluctantly passed the joint over to his friend.  He and Warren were back at Palomar, oblivious to the rape of Venus by the ever-expanding coronal mass ejection, and unaware of the resulting drama occurring on the Moon and in Houston.  They were busy sifting through the more obscure regions of the Solar System for something deserving of their prodigious talents, the Earth?s Moon no longer the subject of their theses.  With the Moon now failing to keep only one face toward their home planet, the focal point of their previous studies lacked any validity.  And with so many other scientists slavering over the behavior of Earth?s sole satellite, they had decided to move on to some other area of the Solar System in their search for another topic of study.

Warren was pretty devastated by the turn of events in their little sphere of concern, and as a result, had become a much more voracious consumer of cannabis.  And Remmy wasn?t too pleased with that particular turn of events.  He had limited resources to procure the substance he increasingly had to share with this friend.  But Warren always paid for more than his portion, so ultimately, he really couldn?t bitch too much.  And on another more welcome note, his friend had also stopped mirroring their thesis advisor.  He was now wearing a pink tee-shirt, emblazoned with a dark silhouette of Science Officer Spock?s pointy-eared head.  Apparently, he had also lost his razor, as a scraggly beard was already well on its way to forming on his chin.  A Dr. Jack Simmons doppelg?nger he was not.

?Don?t slobber all over it this time,? he protested.  Though he couldn?t complain about the financial aspect of their shared and growing habit, he could complain about his roommate?s novice tendency to liberally wet the joint with every use.  Though he was starting to look like a hippy, Warren hadn?t totally made the transition, and his lack of cannabis etiquette irked Remmy to no end.

Their search of the Solar System for viable study candidates revealed that there were a multitude of celestial bodies and planetary moons throughout its expanse to fit the bill.  And some of them had been behaving even more strangely than the Moon, for as long as Man had been able to observe them.  After a short period of examination and deep discussion, the two decided to stick with the natural satellites of planetary bodies, as they figured that a lot of the work they had already done on the Moon would be transferable to such a selection.  Mercury and Venus were too close to the Sun, and thus had no moons.  Mars had a couple, but they were pretty boring.  But the planet with the most moons was Jupiter, and some of them were downright spectacular, at least from an astronomer?s point of view.  So, about a week ago they had swung the telescope at Palomar towards the largest planet in the Solar System, just two planetary rings removed from Earth, and begun studying its moons.

?Ok, ok.  Which of these beauties do you want to do?  Old man Jupiter has a harem of 79 virgins for us to choose from, by latest count.?

Warren took a long toke off the joint and passed it back to Remmy, who examined it closely before taking a drag.  His friend?s eyes looked a bit glazed over, and Remmy knew that they wouldn?t be getting too much more work done this night.  Most of the evenings of the previous week had taken a similar trajectory.  He sighed, wondering when and how he had somehow become the more responsible of the two of them.  Remmy adjusted the telescope?s focus to take a closer look at Ganymede, the largest moon in the Solar System.  Even with the large Hale telescope, the view of the satellite on the viewing screen was not ideal.  The orb appeared miniscule, dwarfed by Jupiter?s massive disk in the background.  He sighed again as he closed his eyes, taking another long, satisfying draw on the damp doobie.

?I don?t care.  I think that Ganymede is pretty cool.  It?s twice the density of Earth?s Moon, is bigger than the planet Mercury, and has both an atmosphere and a magnetosphere.?

?Yeah, yeah, yeah,? cooed Warren, slowly swaying and shuffling rhythmically about the room.  ?But I like the Io, wit da volcano!?

Remmy once again grew faintly disgusted with his fellow doctoral candidate.  He wasn?t in a rhyming mood.  Though, Io was a pretty interesting possibility.  With its volcanoes and sulfur dioxide snowfields, it was a very colorful, beautiful celestial body.  The fire and ice moon, Galileo?s first love, just might be a viable candidate for their studies.  He got up from the swivel seat in front of the control panel, in desperate need of a strong cup of coffee.  Warren immediately plopped down into the vacated seat as he walked to the small cabinet against the far wall.  He heard the positioning motors of the Hale telescope come to life.  Apparently his formerly clean-cut companion was bringing the telescope about to view Io.  Part of him wondered how Warren had ever put up with his own crazy behavior over the years, when he used to be the problem child.  Oh, how he yearned for those simpler days.

Warren started babbling, disturbing his reverie.

?Am I screwed up??

?Yes.?

?Well, I must be really screwed up, man.  Cause, it looks like something?s happening to Jupiter?s big red spot.  Looks like it?s flattening.  Fast.  And that ain?t possible, is it??

?I thought you were looking at Io?  With its freaking volcano.?

?Was, but then Jupiter?s big ole red spot caught my eye.  It was really cool.  But now it is really getting big, and flat!  Skinny flat.?

Remmy continued stirring his coffee, not even turning toward his comrade.  A fat spot getting fatter?  Skinny?  He couldn?t really hear everything his friend was saying, the sound of his stirring drowning out a few of his words.  He needed just a little sugar to sweeten the massive caffeine jolt his body craved.  Finally, he looked over at Warren, who had suddenly lost his entire pot-induced-laid-back demeanor.  The astronomer-to-be was frantically taking measurements from the screen in front of him, and then pounding away on his computer keyboard.  Remmy spilled some of the coffee onto the floor and his shirt as he hustled across the room to see what all the fuss was about.

?What gives, Warren??

?Jupiter?s spot is flattening at an alarming rate!  And I mean fast.  I think that it will disappear entirely in a few hours.  Maybe sooner.  And the surrounding atmosphere is really churning, as well.  This has to have been happening for some time.?

?How?s that possible??

?These days, I think anything is possible!  But it appears that Jupiter is really going for a spin!?

The two wannabe PhD's spent the next few hours taking measurements of Jupiter?s upper atmosphere.  Warren?s initial assessment was correct, as all trace of the big red spot vanished less than two hours after they started observing its strange behavior.  The big planet was spinning like an atomic top!  It had already been the fastest in the Solar System, rotating once every ten hours, and thus having the shortest day.  By comparison, the Earth rotated once every twenty-four hours.  An imaginary spot on its equator traveled about 1000 miles an hour.  A wispy cloud in the upper atmosphere of Jupiter shot along at about 28,000 miles an hour.  Or at least it used to.

?Can those figures be accurate?  Jupiter can?t possibly be rotating that fast.?

Warren and Remmy looked down at the calculations that both of them had poured over and then they rechecked them multiple times, once the speed of the clouds in Jupiter?s upper atmosphere seemed to have stabilized.  Remmy shook his head at the results.  Jupiter was rotating about once a second.

?I think it?s rotating so quickly that the atmosphere can?t keep up.  I?m actually wondering what?s going to happen first; the atmosphere being flung from the surface and scattered into space, or the entire planet bursting into flames from friction.?

?Hell, Jupiter is essentially made of gas, with at least ninety percent of its composition hydrogen and helium.  For all we know, the entire planet is made up of layers of gas.  Thus, the term ?gas giant? used whenever describing planets like Jupiter, Saturn, and Neptune.  At the rotational speeds we are seeing, Jupiter?s upper atmospheric gases, its troposphere, should already have peeled away.  Unless its gravity has increased.  Dramatically.?

Warren looked at Remmy, his eyebrow raised quizzically.

That got the two of them frantically pounding away on their respective computer?s keyboards once again, independently running numbers.  Both were perspiring when they finished their calculations, almost simultaneously.  They stared at one another for a moment, and then both smiled.

?For my initial inputs, I estimated Jupiter?s troposphere at thirty-one miles thick, primarily made up of ammonia, ammonium hydrosulfide, and water.?

?Me too!?

?So, we started out with the same parameters.  How strong did you calculate Jupiter?s gravity has become??

?I figured it?s at about 100?m/s??

?Wow, me too.  That means that Jupiter?s gravitational pull has increased almost five-fold.  It?s now a little more than ten times as strong as Earth?s gravity, and more than one third that of the Sun.?

?Are we witnessing the birth of a star here, bro??

?Maybe.  I don?t know.?

Warren looked over at the clock on the wall.  It was, as he knew it would be, deep into the wee hours of the morning.  Dr. Jack Simmons was gonna be loving his two doctoral candidates even more.  He picked up the phone.

CHAPTER 30

Director Thompson rolled over in his bed, having finally retired to his sleeping quarters, a long, demanding day finally coming to an end.  He was bone tired, so tired he felt he might be too exhausted to sleep.  He hadn?t even opened the Bible on his nightstand to seek the solace, the peace, that he knew only it could have provided.  Yeah right, if only it could.  He couldn?t stop the errant thought from escaping.  And now, the day?s insuppressible roller coaster of events continued to play across the spectral landscape of his numbed mind, keeping him awake.

The triumph of the Nader device, and the resulting promising view of ancient Earth had filled them all with euphoria, a delicious expectancy of good things to come.  And then, almost immediately, the damning arc of solar excrement slashing out into the Solar System had shattered their bliss.  The rape of Venus had been gut wrenching, the possibility that the sword of Damocles would reach Earth, terrifying.  And then, hope.  In his fitful attempts at sleep, Thompson thought back to the Houston-based technician?s words, once he was done shouting and had calmed down enough to speak rationally.

?There?s a weak signal coming from Icarus.  The Mercury astronauts are alive!?

?Finally, some good news,? Director Thompson looked genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.  ?What are they saying??

?Well, as you know, there is about a twenty-two-minute time lag for exchange of information, but here is what we have so far.?

Up on the big display, a few lines of typewritten script appeared on the screen.  Mercury was still on the far side of the Sun, and with that energy source so close to the two planet?s line of sight, means of contact were fairly limited.  The most reliable form of communication utilized something that looked a lot like a Teletype of old.  At least the resulting messages could easily be displayed almost simultaneously on the big screens on both the Moon and in Houston.  A series of words scrolled across both.

?TON, COME IN HOUSTON.  ICARUS BASE CALLING.  COME IN HOUSTON

ICARUS, THIS IS HOUSTON, WE READ YOUR TRANSMISSION.  GLAD TO LEARN THAT YOU ARE STILL WITH US.

HOUSTON, COME IN HOUSTON.  ICARUS BASE CALLING.  COME IN HOUSTON.

?Their salutation repeats a number of times, and then they wait about five minutes and begin again.?

?That?s it?  How long ago did you send your response, Houston??

Director Thompson was an impatient man.

?About nine minutes ago.  I typed in the response as soon as I heard from them.  They should be receiving it in less than two minutes.

?So, we will have to then wait another twelve minutes or so after that to get their response?  I think we need to figure out a better way to make use of that twenty-two-minute gap.?

They waited.

ROGER, HOUSTON.  AND THANKS, WE ARE DOING AS WELL AS CAN BE EXPECTED.  NOW LIVING IN A CAVE, THOUGH ICARUS BASE IS STILL MAINLY INTACT.  VIEWING PLATFORM LOST, AS WELL AS SOME EQUIPMENT.

This was maddening.

Thompson wanted to take over the communications, but didn?t want to be a jerk about things.  Houston had received the signal first, so had the ball.  The twenty-two-minute delay between question asked, and question answered was equally frustrating.  He got on the comm to Houston once again.

?Ask them if they are still able to evaluate the coronal mass ejection.?

?Will do, Director.?

ICARUS, DO YOU HAVE SUFFICIENT RESOURCES TO OBSERVE AND ANALYZE THE CURRENT STRENGTH OF THE CORONAL MASS EJECTION?

?Hopefully, they do, and hopefully the data they provide will allow us to determine the trajectory of that solar flare.?

A little over twenty-two minutes later, letters once again began scrolling across the big screens.  Thompson had pulled out most of his remaining hair by that point.

AFFIRMATIVE.  TOOK VIDEO OF CONTACT WITH CME HERE UNTIL CAMERA DESTROYED.  HAVE JUST RETURNED FROM OUTSIDE SORTIE TO SET UP SURVIVING EQUIPMENT TO OBSERVE CURRENT CME COMPOSITION, DENSITY, SPEED, AND VOLUME.  WILL SEND DATA VIA BURST TRANSMITTER ONCE COMPLETE.  HOW ARE THINGS ON THE EARTH AND THE MOON?

EXCITING.  BIG EYE RESOLUTION MUCH IMPROVED.  HALO HAS RESOLVED INTO VIEW OF ANCIENT EARTH.  BAD NEWS, CME HAS DECIMATED VENUS.

?Thompson here, again.  Tell him that we need that CME data as soon as possible.  The Earth and the Moon need to make preparations for whatever lies ahead.?

The Earthbound tech complied, and twenty-two maddening minutes later, Icarus?s reply arrived.

PROBLEM WITH HALCYON LENS AND MASS SPECTROMETER.  ALSO, BURST DATA TRANSMITTER NOT LINKING WITH OBSERVATION EQUIPMENT MODEM.  ESTIMATED TIME TO REPAIR, UNKNOWN.  WILL ADVISE.

THANKS.  MEANTIME, WE ARE SENDING YOU LATEST DATA FROM BIG EYE AND VIEW OF VENUS CONTACT WITH CME FOR YOU TO WITNESS.  AND A VIEW OF EARTH, 2000 YEARS YOUNGER.  SPECTACULAR!

?Freaking amazing.  All right, people, it?s been a busy, fun-filled day, and I think the coming days will be about the same.  It might be hours before Icarus can provide us with the data they collected, and we don?t know how long it will take us to analyze it once we have it.  I would like everyone who is non-essential for operations both on the Earth and on the Moon to go and get some rest.?

After Thompson made this announcement to both control rooms, he had actually heeded his own advice.  He didn?t even wait the next twenty-two minutes to hear Icarus?s response to Houston.  He knew that he would have chewed someone?s head off by then, or slit his own throat.  Besides, until they got their technical difficulties solved, they wouldn?t be able to offer much useful insight.

Finally, after tossing and turning for almost an hour, he drifted off to sleep.  It was a surprisingly deep, but dreamless, sleep.  He almost didn?t hear the soft knocking on his door, some four hours later.  But ultimately, the light tapping sound intruded into his subconscious enough that it wakened him.

CHAPTER 31

?We?ve got another celestial body acting up.?

Thompson had finally responded to the light tapping at his door, and just opened it, only to find Dr. Vance patiently lurking just outside in the dim hallway.  He sighed, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain, unable to process exactly what Vance was saying.  He moved back into his room and sat heavily back onto his bed.  He already had his hands full with all the problems they were having with the Moon?s errant behavior, not to mention Icarus Base?s destruction and then miraculous resurrection.  Then there was Venus?s demise at the hands of the deadly arc of solar material slashing through the inner Solar System and possibly threatening Earth.

All overshadowed by Tony Brooks? death.  And now what?

?Did Icarus get back to us??

?Yes, and they?ve provided us with some close-up video of the initial CME impact on Mercury.  Unfortunately, their burst equipment is not operational at this time, and the backup transmitter?s data rate and quality leave a bit to be desired.?

?Anything to help us form a more accurate projection for the CME trajectory??

?No, not yet.  Nothing illuminating.  But, did you hear what I just said?  We have another planet behaving strangely.?

?What?  Which one??

?It?s Jupiter.  Apparently, it has started rotating faster than normal.  Dramatically, faster.  And it?s compressing somewhat and growing flatter; possibly because of the increased rotational speed.?

?Holy crap.  What is going on in our once-so-stable Solar System??

?Actually, I?m not sure.  But I would wager it has everything to do with whatever force first hijacked the BIG EYE, and then moved the Moon.  And let?s not forget that funny business with those beams of light that pierced the Earth 33 years ago, on that long-past Christmas morn.?

Thompson rubbed his temple in anticipation of the headache that would surely be developing any time now.  Despite that, for the first time in quite a while, he had been able to get some uninterrupted sleep.  Not much, but some deep shuteye.  Maybe the better for him to deal with yet another crisis, though he was unsure how a more rapidly spinning Jupiter presented a problem.  At least, not yet.  So far as the phenomena?s origin was concerned, he had to agree with Vance.  All of these anomalies, large and small, were somehow related.  He had faith that it would all become clear soon enough.

?Samuel, how and when was Jupiter?s errant behavior discovered??

?A few hours ago.  You left a strict ?do not disturb? order on your quarters, which we all honored, knowing that you have had so much trouble sleeping of late.  And apparently, you also turned off your phone, so your friend called me when he was unable to reach you.?

?My friend??

?Dr. Jack Simmons.  He was a pleasure to converse with.?

?I bet.  Though, he can be a bit tedious at times.  Did he try and lure you into one of his little mind traps??

?No, I don?t think so.?

?Well, that?s a first.  Tell me, did his two doctoral candidates somehow have some part to play in discovering Jupiter?s increased rotation??

?Yes, I believe so, if their first names are Ren and Stimpy, or some such.?

?Warren and Remmy.  Yeah, that?s them.  What the hell were they doing observing Jupiter?  Isn?t the behavior of planetary moons their specialty?  Not the planets themselves?  And if they did discover this latest celestial anomaly, doesn?t that seem a little bit too coincidental??

?Apparently, they were studying the Jovian moon, Io, and just happened to notice Jupiter?s aberrant behavior in the background.  They noted that for some reason the planet?s infamous red spot was stretching out, and then they witnessed it eventually disappearing entirely.?

?Must have happened fairly quickly.  Or have I been asleep longer than I thought??

?It took only a matter of hours from the time that they initially noticed the anomaly.  The imagery that Dr. Simmons forwarded to me after the call bears that out.  Quite fascinating.  And the calculations and resulting hypotheses that the two doctoral candidates provided are equally illuminating.?

Vance handed Thompson a computer notepad, on which the entire sequence of events as recorded by Warren and Remmy played out.  A few white pages containing a series of equations and paragraphs followed the recording.  Sitting on his bed, Thompson squinted, holding the tablet close to his face.  Forgetting that his spectacles were on a chain around his neck, dangling on his chest.  He must have fallen asleep while still wearing them.  Like his nearly albino companion, he found the video and the two scientists? theories fascinating.  He handed the tablet back to Vance.  He got up, quickly dressed, and the two men began the long trek to the BIG EYE.

?Amazing stuff.  What do you make of it all??

?I don?t know,? said Vance.  ?It does seem a bit coincidental that the same two junior astronomers are involved, yet again.  But I?m particularly interested in the gas giant?s significant increase in gravity.  That is a phenomenon never even theorized before.?

?Divine forces at work??

?Perhaps.  But why do you presume that they might be divine in nature??

?Well, something bordering on divine, at least.  It is often said that anything advanced enough would appear magical to the uninformed observer.?

?True, but you said divine, and that is different than magic.?

?Is it?  I?m a Christian, and I find most of what I?m expected to believe quite magical.  What do you believe??

?There isn?t too much difference between what I believe, what I know, and what is true.?

Thompson just loved talking with Vance.  He always felt like he was conversing with the Riddler, of the old Batman comic book fame.  Never a straight answer, and frequently, maybe days later, he would suddenly comprehend what some offhand comment that Samuel had made earlier really meant.  He hoped that would be the case this time, as well.  He realized Vance was still talking.

?So, as a Christian, how do you reconcile your logical, scientific knowledge with your religious beliefs?  There has to be quite the disconnect.?

?I?ve had no problem distinguishing between the two.  At least, I haven?t for some time.?

?Really.  So, for example, how were you able to make evolution somehow fit into your creationist beliefs??

?Darwin?s evolutionary theories are obviously not really my forte, but to my knowledge, no one has conclusively proven his theories are correct.  For example, I?ve often wondered, if humans supposedly descended from apes, then why are there still apes living in the time of humans?  Wouldn?t each previous iteration of human development have disappeared as Mankind evolved?  And, I remember that a few decades ago, some paleontologist somewhere discovered dinosaur tracks on top of, and intermingled with, human footprints, perfectly preserved in sandstone that was presumably millions of years old.  Totally inexplicable, at least using evolutionary principals and ?proven? facts.  I?m not convinced that we scientists don?t have it all wrong.?

?And the Christian religious teachings, that all of this was created in just six days, with God taking a breather on the seventh?  You find that valid?  With all of this in evidence??

Vance had stopped, and spread his arms as though to emphasize his point, gesturing expansively and looking skyward.  After leaving Thompson?s room, the two men had walked down the adjoining corridor, and were just entering the long central clear tube that connected the residential part of Lunar Base with the main BIG EYE complex.  Above them, millions of stars shone starkly against a deep, dark backdrop, with no atmosphere available to get them twinkling.  Thompson also stopped, drinking in the view that never failed to fill him with awe.

?God gave us this,? he said, like Vance, gesturing toward the cosmos.  ?How could we ever doubt that it wasn?t intentional?  Some sort of divine plan??

?There is overwhelming evidence that none of this could possibly have been ?created? in less than a week.  All of your years of scientific study, of firsthand observation, cannot deny that!  Your scientific efforts cannot have all been for naught??

?No, of course not, Samuel.  I just have faith that someday God will tell us where we all went wrong.  And I hope that He won?t hold it against me for trying so hard to unlock the mysteries of His grandeur, and understand their significance.?

The two men resumed walking along the long tube, both of them slowing at times to gaze upward, towards the heavens.  Neither spoke, each filled with their own fleeting thoughts.  No one walking that long stretch could ever ignore the majestic spectacle above them.  Finally, they reached the entrance to the main BIG EYE complex.  A number of scientists were there to welcome them.  They all started talking at once, each trying to be the one that gave the Director the news.  He shushed them all, and pointed at the one leading the charge.

?You, Hopper, what?s happened??

?It?s Jupiter, Director.  It?s moving.?

?That?s old news.  Vance just told me all about the increased rotation.?

?No, not that.  Jupiter is moving.  It?s left its orbit and it looks like it is beginning to spiral in towards the Sun.?

?Of course, it is.?

Thompson gave Vance a bewildered, sideways glance and hurried along with the throng of scientists to the BIG EYE control room, and once there, towards the nearest occupied computer terminal.  He stood behind the man sitting at the desk and put his hands on his shoulders.  Miller looked up and smiled as the group gathered about his workstation.

?Ok, Miller, let?s see if we can fire up the BIG EYE and take a gander at what?s happening.  I think that Jupiter should be visible just above the western horizon, if I?m not mistaken, and assuming it hasn?t moved too far.?

?Yes, sir,? Miller said, typing furiously on his keyboard.  After a few minutes of anticipation, he looked up from his keyboard.

?The BIG EYE is powered up.  All positioning motors are green.?

?Marvelous.  Let?s get BIG moving.?

All eyes were glued to the big central screen, expectantly waiting for the view to shift as the BIG EYE slewed from its current image.  The screen still showed the Earth, two thousand years in the past.  It was a sight that somehow brought comfort to all those that gazed upon it.  The beautiful orb was a welcome change from the black hole and accompanying halo that had been frozen there for over three weeks, with only the occasional forays to witness the scouring of Mercury and lately, the solar scorching of Venus.  Miller continued to type commands, occasionally looking beyond his own small monitor toward the big main screen.  He hit the enter key once, twice, and then frustratingly poked at it over and over again.

?What?s the matter??

?Not responding.  All systems are working, but the BIG EYE won?t move an inch.  It appears that the mysterious force has decided that BIG now needs to be permanently anchored to the Moon, and thus subject to its miniscule adjustments.  Whatever, we are no longer able to control it.?

?Damn it!  Why now?  Try another terminal!?

Miller jumped to the adjacent desk and accessed the BIG EYE?s control system once again.  Repeating the same moves and entries he had just made at his own terminal, with identical results.  Even his frustrated pokes at the enter key were replicated.

?Nada.?

?Wait, whom are you talking to on Earth?  Are there any facilities down there following Jupiter?s movements since it left its orbit??

?Well, the initial rotation was noted by those pecker-heads working out of Palomar, near Los Angeles.  They lost contact due to Jupiter dipping below the Earth?s horizon, but the planet had not started to depart its orbit at that time.  The TMT facility in Hawaii had already picked up Jupiter by that time, and the planet first started moving sunward shortly after that.  Right now, we are getting the most reliable data from the AAO in Australia.  Their declination is very low though, so they will also lose sight of Jupiter soon.  Still the data is astounding.?

?Let?s get them to patch their video through to us, and all the rest of you start working on any data that they are streaming.  And let?s look at any and all information available Earthside since this latest extraordinary phenomenon began.  If Jupiter is leaving his orbit, wouldn?t it be nice to know where the hell he is going??

Within a few minutes, a view of the largest planet in the Solar System was showing on the large screen in the BIG EYE complex.  It was a majestic sight, though the gas giant looked different than it usually did because of its rapid rotation and the disappearance of its red eye.  Thompson was very disappointed that the BIG EYE couldn?t be used to observe Jupiter?s behavior.  He knew that the images would have been dramatically more detailed.  Too bad the telescope had once again been hijacked by the same higher power that only wanted it to ward a point in space a thousand light years away.

Miller echoed Thompson?s thoughts.

?It sure would have been nice if we could have gotten the BIG EYE to focus on Jupiter.?

?Yeah, but at least we can look at the transmitted images and data from Earth observation posts, and maybe help a little.  Anybody here able to figure out where the hell Jupiter is going, yet??

?It?s moving really, really fast.  From the initial data provided by Mauna Kea?s Thirty Meter Telescope, Jupiter first entered an acute acceleration phase that lasted about a half hour, and has now stabilized at a very high speed.  We have our mainframe working on the planet?s expected path right now, based on that final speed.?

Thompson gave Miller an approving pat on the shoulder, and then turned to Vance.  The throng of scientists previously surrounding them had dispersed; every individual back at their workstations, trying to solve the mystery of Jupiter?s behavior.

?What do you think??

?I have no idea.?

?Something has hijacked the Moon, and the BIG EYE with it, for unknown purposes.  The Sun is getting quite feisty, acting like it wants to devour its nearby planets, maybe all of them.  And now, something, probably the same something, has gotten Jupiter to leave its orbit and hurtle towards the inner Solar System.?

?In a nutshell.?

Thompson looked at Samuel and shook his head.  The odd man was staring at the big screen opposite them, a look of deep consternation on his face.  As though something he knew to be true, suddenly was not.  He wished he could figure him out.  But he had a feeling that Vance was now having a problem reconciling what he knew, and what he believed, with what was.  He found himself chuckling a bit, but the levity didn?t last.

?The mainframe has finished its calculations, and is building a projected path for Jupiter.?

?Thanks, Miller.  Put it on the screen.  Include the latest projections for the CME arc, as well.  Might as well get a broad perspective on all the activity in the Solar System right now.  Too bad we haven?t heard back from Icarus, for a more accurate representation of the solar storm?s path.?

A view of the Sun and the inner Solar System materialized on the big screen, where everyone?s eyes were riveted.  Jupiter was one massive body.  One of its moons could be seen skirting along in the foreground, eclipsed by the gas giant behind.  But the planet looked slightly odd, flattened a bit at the poles.

?Are all Jupiter?s moons in tow??

?So far as we can tell,? said Miller.

Down on Earth in the Lunar Control Center, all eyes were likewise glued to their own huge central monitor, which mirrored the view on the lunar screen.  Michael found the representation hauntingly similar to the one that had been on the TV in the bar a few weeks previously.  The breaking news that night had shown a view of a solar flare, filled with white-hot plasma, that could possibly spell doom for the astronauts helplessly stranded on Mercury.  Weeks later, that pending doom had materialized.  Icarus had been put out of commission, Venus deflowered, and the arm of solar destruction spiraling out from the Sun was now reaching even further out, well beyond the second planet?s orbit.  Projections then, and as they looked at this latest projection, didn?t have it reaching as far as Earth?s orbit.  Not yet.  Hopefully Icarus would provide data soon to show the solar flare diminishing, destined to fall harmlessly back towards the Sun.

But this latest threat to the Solar System?s stability was more ominous.

Even if the peril of the solar flare and its CME proved to be dwindling, this latest simulation showed another world possibly facing destruction.  Mercury and Venus had been sandblasted, and now another planet was in jeopardy.  A very important planet.  The new simulation revealed that the path Jupiter was taking would very shortly intersect with Earth?s orbit, and then with the Earth itself.  The rendering on the screen showed Jupiter and Earth merging together for just a moment, with Jupiter then continuing its bewildering journey, whipping around the Sun along an elliptical orbit before heading back out of the inner planetary neighborhood.  After the encounter, the Earth continued merrily along its orbital path, not disturbed in the slightest.  But everyone looking at the images knew that wouldn?t be the case; that the computer-generated simulation hadn?t been finely tuned, the ramifications of such a collision not yet programed into the projection.  Down on Earth, Michael was having the same sinking feeling that everyone else in the room on the Moon was now having.

Thompson broke the silence.

?When??

?Less than two weeks.  Ten days.  April 15.?

?Tax Day, I believe.  The date normally consigned for giving Caesar his due.?

?Not this time.?

CHAPTER 32

?They?re moving us to Johnson Space Center tomorrow.?

?What, why??

Michael put his phone back on the nightstand after reading the text from mission control.  Monique had not even bothered to look at her phone when, like his, it had buzzed a minute earlier.  They were lying in bed, huddled in the darkness.  It was the middle of the night and neither could sleep.  He just held her close, knowing that human contact was necessary, now more than ever.

?Apparently, the story broke last night about Jupiter.?

?I?m surprised that the threat of the approaching solar storm hadn?t toppled civilization already.  So, why does Mankind?s pending doom from now two threats require us to give up our comfortable rooms here??

He chuckled, though they both knew that neither peril was a joking matter.  The Earth might soon be either pulverized by the largest planet in the Solar System, or fried by the Sun.  Neither was a certainty.  But whatever force was controlling their destinies seemed to be doing a pretty good job at whatever it wanted so far.  And tragedy seemed to be bearing down on their home planet.

?Hell, if I know.  Do you want me to turn on the TV and see what?s happening??

?Sure, I can?t sleep, anyway.?

Michael retrieved the remote from beside his phone and turned on the television.  The set came alive on CNN, as many airports, bars, and hotels still chose that network as their default startup channel.  Why, he had no idea, though he suspected laziness, or more likely the fact that most of the television sets were still built in China, and those manufacturers determined the presets.  CNN?s reputation, along with most of the mainstream media?s, had been greatly tarnished during the Trump Era, especially when it was ultimately discovered that they were the unwitting stooges of the Chinese, who were the real culprits trying to sow dissent in the United States.  They had gotten the story of Russian election interference correct, but identified incorrect players, totally missing the forest for the trees.  The volume was low, but the screen was bright in the dark room.

?Ugh, turn that crap off,? Monique said, rolling away from him to hide under the covers.  Though she was trying not to show it, she was a bundle of nerves.  She knew that this freaking project was coming to an end soon, and she needed to think.  What she really needed was to get her life in order.  Physically, mentally, and spiritually.  But she was afraid to do that.  Had been afraid most of her life to do that.  Truths are always hard to hide from.  Monique barely registered what was being said on the television, lost in her own inner thoughts.

?Hey, it?s still the best place to discover what the latest unsubstantiated, sensational conspiracy theories are.?

The reporter on the screen was providing just that.  He was standing in front of a big graphic, no doubt generated on a green screen, like weather men and woman grow so adept at using.  He wasn?t as good at it as the weather commentators were, but Michael was sure that his audience was getting the gist of his story, even though he frequently pointed at the wrong place.  The graphic showed the inner Solar System, with the planets out to Mars displayed.  Of course, Jupiter was now shown as well, on the move and chewing its way through the asteroid belt.  A little series of flashing dashes showed its projected path for its rendezvous with the Earth.  A glowing representation of the CME emanating from the Sun had also been provided, and through the use of some nifty 3-D takeaways, showed that the Earth would enter the hot plasma stream and remain in it for at least a day.  That would be more than long enough for the entire planet to be crispy fried due to the standard length of its daily rotation.  And based on what happened to Venus, the atmosphere wouldn?t last more than a couple of hours, anyway.  Both of the potential catastrophes were scheduled to commence sometime in the afternoon on April 15th.  While the graphics were very good, the words were not so much.

?Earth will probably be destroyed on April 15th, either by hot plasma or collision with the planet Jupiter.  Or most likely a combination of both.  It is still unknown what suddenly brought these calamities to bear on Mankind.  No one is certain, but we do know that all of this unfavorable attention on the Earth started when scientists on the Moon and in Houston began exploring certain anomalies associated with black holes.  One has to wonder if those scientists somehow instigated a negative response from some cosmic force by inserting their prying eyes where they shouldn?t have.?

?Oh, brother.  Are you hearing what this clown is spouting??

Michael switched channels, as so many had done in the past, because of such wild, unsubstantiated drivel.  It took him a moment to find the TrueVision network, as he couldn?t remember the channel number that the hotel had assigned it.  He surfed until he thought he heard Don Baker?s voice, and a graphic similar to the one playing on CNN was in the process of disappearing, the scene cutting away to a view of the area just outside Johnson Space Center and the Hilton.

?So, as we just postulated with the computer-generated graphics, there is a possibility that the Earth might pass through the coronal mass ejection, or CME, being discharged from the Sun.  But please remember, that is IF it is determined that the plasma will even reach so far as Earth?s orbit.  And I must stress that IF, as there is no definitive evidence that will be the case.  This network is reporting that NASA is still waiting for information from the astronauts on Mercury before it will definitively announce that the CME will even reach Earth.

As for Jupiter?s behavior, that is an entirely new phenomenon that will require much more study before jumping to the conclusion that it will strike Earth.  The gas giant?s acceleration phase was unnatural, to be sure, and resulted in a directional vector and speed that at this time MIGHT bring the planet into a position of close proximity with Earth.  There is some speculation that the force manipulating Jupiter might possibly be the same force that caused the sunspot, with its devastating CME, to occur.  Both appear to be targeting our planet.  But to what end?

Regardless, as this monitor now shows, a massive crowd has gathered outside of the Johnson Space Center, many protesting NASA?s involvement in the study of the universe.  But, a good portion of the crowd is participating in a show of support for those same scientists that so anger the first group.  This second group believes that the scientists have discovered the ?Second Coming of Jesus Christ? which would certainly lend credence to the tenants of the Christian faith, if true.  It remains to be seen which group is more justified in their involvement.?

?Is that TrueVision?? asked Monique, rolling back over to glance at the TV.  In response, Michael rolled onto his side, to hold her.

?Yes, and they?ve been true to their word, if you?ll excuse my pun.  As usual, they are presenting the facts as best they can and letting their viewers come to their own conclusions.  Pretty tough, as not all the facts are in.  They do mention an outside force, but do not definitively claim that there is one.?

?I hadn?t heard that the force that got Jupiter moving is the same one that formed the sunspot and its resulting CME.  At least not definitely.  How do they know it is the same?  Both CNN and TrueVision seem to think that it might be.?

?Considering TrueVision?s charter, they must have uncovered some pretty strong evidence, or have some pretty trustworthy sources, to include that little tidbit in their news report.  No matter, even with the way Baker on TrueVision explained the current circumstances; those are still open to wildly variant explanations, and accusations from less fair and balanced networks.  I wouldn?t be surprised if CNN doesn?t start reporting collusion instead of collision.?

She totally ignored his attempt at historical, political humor.

?Do you think that both the CME and Jupiter will strike the Earth??

?I don?t know.  That would certainly be overkill, don?t you think?   There must be multiple forces at work, else why would a single force with a single purpose move heavenly bodies to show us a pivotal point in our past, only to then wipe us out before we could witness it.  So, it stands to reason that there must be two opposing forces competing for our attention.  And the force hell-bent on wiping us out is hedging its bet; throwing both the Sun and Jupiter at us!?

?Good versus evil??

?God versus Satan?  Maybe, who knows?  I certainly don?t buy the ?second coming? crap that many in that crowd are celebrating.  Besides, we may be getting ahead of ourselves.  Neither possible catastrophe has yet been confirmed, and like I said, two Mankind-extinguishing events certainly seem like overkill.  Though I do have my fears.?

?Why fear?  You can only be killed once, so far as I know.?

Michael grew quiet.  What she said was true, but some religions did hold that you could live more than once.  When born again, that is.  He didn?t voice this, as he could tell that Monique wasn?t in a very good mood.  Hell, no one was, after yesterday?s revelations.  He rolled back over onto his back, making sure that his other arm still firmly held Monique.  He wasn?t sure whose benefit that physical contact was for.  With his free hand, he toyed with the amulet he wore around his neck.  The view of the massive crowd outside was alarming.  There had to be over a hundred thousand people out there.

?Well, I?d rather not die at the hands of some frenzied mob,? he said.  ?Whatever their motivations, the crowd around us here in Houston is swelling dramatically.?

?Do you really think that those people outside actually blame us?  How can they think that we can control the cosmos, or that we somehow pissed off something that can??

?Who knows what they think?  The populace has been force-fed so much propaganda, from so many news channels, from so many sides of the spectrum, for so many years; how can they know where the real truth lies these days?  Let?s not forget what happened to Tony and Charlene.  Four crazed members of some newly formed religious sect attacked them in broad daylight.  I saw earlier that the twisted group responsible believes that only through the extermination of the Chosen Seven, their term, not mine, will Mankind be saved.  The general population is extremely malleable, but in their defense, can only react using whatever information becomes available to them.  No matter how inaccurate, how biased, or how inflammatory that information is.  And even if what they hear or see is true, they have no idea who?s pushing whose agenda and for what purpose.  I know that I don?t.?

?I get it.  The masses, stirred up by idiotic media claims, are blaming us for studying all of this and thus angering the forces that be.  And now, security has been compromised to the point that NASA is moving us out of the Hilton and sequestering us at the Space Center for the duration.?

?Bingo.?

?Great.  We can?t even live our last few days in comfort.  If that is all we have left, that is.?

?We could try to take our minds off of things for a while.?

She was open to the distraction.

Unfortunately, though their strenuous activities tired them out, they were still unable to sleep.  Apparently, pending doom had a tendency to cause insomnia.  They slumbered for a while in one another?s arms, and then Monique turned to face Michael.  By the bright moonlight coming in through a slit in the drapes, he could see that her eyes were open.  She also seemed to be holding her breath.  Something was up, but he didn?t dare speak or move, not wanting to ruin the moment.

CHAPTER 33

?He called me his little princess,? she said, an innocent, happy beginning to whatever story she was about to tell him.  Monique, worn out, and in a reflective mood, was ready to test the waters of truth.  She continued, Michael smart enough not to interrupt.

?It was an amazing day, from start to finish.  A big party, lots of gifts, loving family members, and lots of laughter.?

?When?  What day?  And who called you his little princess??

He didn?t add, ?And, why the hell are you telling me this story now?? not wanting to spark a response from one of her alter egos.  He had learned to be careful around Monique, never knowing what dumbass thing he said might release the Ice Princess or the Fire Witch, neither of who?s attention he particularly cared to catch.  Michael was just happy that she was finally opening up to him, having sensed turmoil just below her surface since he had first met her.

?My thirteenth birthday.  And to my stepfather, my mother?s second husband, I was always his princess.  He treated me like I was so special, even though I wasn?t his biological daughter.  That year on my birthday, he even gave me a pony.?

?A pony??

?I know, I know.  I was his princess and he gives me a pony!  Corny.  But he was very rich, an Egyptian businessman making a killing in Saudi Arabia.  We were quite wealthy, so it wasn?t so shocking a gift at all.  We had a big house in the desert, more like a fortified compound, just outside of Riyadh.  My mother had married him when I was four years old, almost five.  She was his third wife, way down the pecking order of the polygamous marital totem pole, and not much liked by the older wives.  But still revered.?

?What happened to your biological father??

?I?ll get to that later.  Maybe.  But first, let me finish telling you about my special thirteenth birthday.  It was the last night I spent in Saudi Arabia.?

?What?  I?m confused.?

?Just listen, Michael.  That night, surprisingly, I was able to fall quickly asleep.  Even after all the excitement of my birthday party and getting the pony, I couldn?t keep my eyes open.  Not at all like tonight.?

?Maybe you were just worn out.?

?No, I was drugged.  My father, at least the only father I ever really knew, drugged his little princess, so that she would be more manageable for what was planned the next day.?

Michael again knew when to keep quiet.  Monique had turned from him, obviously even recounting the story still pained her.  All he could do was hold her close.  She took a deep breath and continued with her tale.

?Before dawn I was to be flown in our private jet to Egypt,? she continued.  ?And once there I was to be rendered pure, by a simple operation that would hopefully curb my anticipated sexual desires.  The procedure, tenderly known as female genital mutilation, would make me more desirable to my future husband.  My loving stepfather was having me whisked away to the country of his birth, to join the millions of other young girls subjected to the barbaric practice every year.?

?That?s horrible.  Man can be so monstrous to his fellow man, or woman, in this case.  Trust me, I know.  It?s a wonder God, if He exists, puts up with us at all.?

?Luckily, dear ole dad was too busy kissing royal Saudi butt that day to accompany me to his own homeland.  Instead, he sent my mother to escort me to the butchery.  But he didn?t know that she had made other plans.  When we landed in Cairo, instead of exiting the terminal, we boarded a commercial Emirates jetliner to the United States.  Dear daddy didn?t know we hadn?t made it to the Egyptian clinic until we were more than halfway across the Atlantic.  Upon landing, my mother and I immediately applied for political asylum.  After a little turmoil, it was granted, and after a few years in America we were able to become citizens.  My mother still resides in New York City, and has never once regretted her decision to flee her Egyptian husband, and the Middle East.  Of course, it took me a while to understand and appreciate her actions.  After all, I was still very young at the time, and my stepfather?s princess.  For years I resented my mother for taking my loving father away from me.  Even today, I find myself missing that freaking pony.?

Monique gave a little laugh, though Michael noted the bitter undertones.  He held her closer, sensing somehow that this was not the end of her story.  He had no idea how right he was.  She was quiet for a long while, so long he thought that maybe she had finally drifted off to sleep.  He was already familiar with some of the backdrop of the story she was telling.  He had known that her mother lived in Manhattan.  And Monique had revealed to everyone earlier that she was born on a plane flying to New York from Dubai on that mysterious day thirty-three years ago.  He thought she had said her mother was on her way there to do some shopping.  From that, he deduced that her biological father must have been a man of some means, as well.  He wondered if she was going to talk about her real father now, as promised.  Monique seemed to read his mind and began whispering once again.

?Now, my real father was different.  I don?t have any memories of him.  Though that is understandable, as he was a pilot and he died in a plane crash when I was not quite two years old.?

?Oh, Monique, I?m so sorry.  You have suffered so much pain, so early in your life.?

?Not really, Michael.  Like I said, I didn?t really know my biological father, so I really didn?t grieve his passing.  And for more than a decade I loved my stepfather as much as he seemed to love me.  I was actually a very happy kid.  And luckily, I avoided a lot of pain in my early adulthood due to the bravery of my mother.  It wasn?t until years later that I was able to acknowledged that, and stopped blaming her for taking me away from my stepfather.?

Turning towards him once again in the darkness, she sighed deeply, and momentarily veered from her story.  He stayed quiet, wondering what tack this conversation was about to take.

?Michael, why are you so opposed to the spiritual direction all of this seems to be taking??

?I have my reasons,? he said, wondering why she had interrupted her narrative to ask him that.

?Ha, your reasons,? she laughed, almost bitterly, ?you have no idea.?

He was a bit taken aback by her rancor.  The woman had a deep vein of hate in her that erupted at the unlikeliest of times and with the slightest provocation.  He did not respond.  In the darkness, she continued her own story of loss and pain.

?In addition to being a pilot, my biological father was a member of the Royal Family in Saudi Arabia.  He was far removed from the King, but still privileged by birth, much as I ultimately was.  I have no doubt that to this day, if I were ever to return to Riyadh, I would still be silently revered.?

Revered?  That was the second time she had used that word.  Revered for being distantly related to the Saudi King through her biological father?  That didn?t make too much sense, as the King had a very big family.  Michael remained silent.  He felt as though he was on a bamboo raft being tossed about by fifty-foot seas; totally unable to see or comprehend what was over the next emotional swell.  Monique was tense, obviously filled with any number of strong feelings.  Was she upset at her father for dying in an airplane accident, leaving her mother to end up in some Egyptian?s harem?  Was she still consumed by a deep hatred for her stepfather, who had betrayed her and had been blithely planning her mutilation?  Or was she mad at her mother for taking her away from her loving stepdad?  Or did she admire her mother for saving her from such brutality?  No matter what the reason for her emotional turmoil, he sensed there was more to this story about to be told.  He knew that he needed to be quiet.

?My stepfather married my mother because of my real father?s notoriety.  Don?t get me wrong, she was, and still is beautiful beyond belief, and any man would have desired her.  And I?m sure my stepfather did.  But marrying a woman who already had a child from another man would be beneath most Arab men.?

?Well, you said your stepfather was very wealthy.  Perhaps he didn?t care what others might think.?

?Do not defend him!  He cared entirely about what others thought of him.  And my mother, because of my actual father?s manner of death, in addition to his royal lineage, was even more desirable to my stepfather.  But neither my mother or I understood how desirable it made me to him.?

?I?m confused.?

?On my thirteenth birthday, shortly before I would become a woman, he sent me off to be mangled.  He did this, ostensibly to command a larger mahr, or dowry, from my future husband.  However, if he failed to find a suitable groom willing to fork over sufficient funds, my mother and I both think that he planned on making me his fourth wife, as allowed by Sharia Law.  That is, if we hadn?t run away to America.?

?My God.  No wonder you hate him so.?

?Yes, I hate him.  He was, and remains to this day, a rich, glutinous pig.  But he is not the reason I became the woman I am today.?

?Of course not!?

?Oh, Michael, my dear, innocent man.  You don?t understand.  And that is because I have not made myself clear or been totally forthcoming.  I have left out a very critical piece of the puzzle.  One I fear to reveal to you.?

?What?  There is nothing you can tell me, nothing you might have done in your past, that would make me care for you less.?

?We?ll see.?

She again turned her back to him, and he snuggled closer to her.  She was still tense, and speaking in low tones.  He could barely make out what she was saying.

?My life in Riyadh, prior to my thirteenth birthday was idyllic.  Though my stepfather doted on me in private, he rarely joined us in public.  But my mother and I went out constantly.  And everywhere we went, we seemed to be the center of attention, almost honored; people constantly coming up to us, hugging my mother and me, pinching my cheek.  I loved it, but I didn?t know the reason for the adoration.?

?Your stepfather must have been a very wealthy man.?

?Quiet please, Michael.?

He got quiet, back on the bamboo raft, moonlit sea spray all about and a looming dark swell above him.  After a few minutes of silence, he realized that Monique was crying, a gentle steady shedding of tears.  This woman had endured so much from such an early age, he was filled with empathy.  But he stayed quiet.  After about a minute, she sniffled, and continued her story.

?The people didn?t care about my stepfather or his wealth.  Hell, just about every citizen of Riyadh was wealthy.  Nor did they really care about my real father?s distant Royal lineage.  What they honored about my biological father was his courage, his act of selflessness, and the manner of his death.  Michael, now living and growing up in America, I came to despise my real father for all of those things I just mentioned, more than I hated my stepfather for wanting to mutilate me, whore me out, or make me his fourth wife.?

Michael didn?t say a word, holding his breath, anticipating the hammer that he knew was about to fall.  What was she trying to tell him?  How could she possibly hate her biological father more than her stepfather?

?My real father was a national hero.  Actually, his fame and notoriety transcended borders.  To all of the Muslim world, he was, and actually still is, a hero.  No, more than that, he is a martyr.  Michael, my real father was one of the pilot hijackers that attacked America.?

?What!  9/11?  Wait, wait, wait? there wasn?t a Royal Family member piloting any of those planes.?

?Don?t believe everything you read.  Aren?t you always saying that to me?  The Saudis, among others wanting to keep the truth hidden, developed quite the intricate past for my father, most of it absolutely false.  But it still endures to this day.  The only truths about him that were accurately revealed were that he was a Saudi, that he was a pilot, and that his particular career as an aviator was extremely short-lived.?

?Wow.?

?And now do you see why I kept this information from you?  Now do you understand why I am so screwed up, especially where men, and trust, are concerned?  Why I am constantly on edge?  Why I hate??

?Monique, my precious.  That was not you.  I don?t care what crimes or heinous acts your biological father committed.  Or that your stepfather wanted to deform you to get more of a dowry.  Neither of those things, neither of your two fathers? twisted acts and transgressions, taint you in any way.  You are still the wonderful woman I wish I had bent heaven and hell to come visit two years ago, snowstorms be damned.?

Monique grew quiet again, but this time he knew that she was not asleep.  She had something else she had to say, her shameful secret having rolled off him like water off a duck?s back.  He could give a crap what her daddy did; what either daddy did.  Still, he was apprehensive.  He lay there thinking about Monique?s past, his own, and that of the other members of their special group of seven.  He wondered if any of the others, like he and Monique, had momentous events in their past, episodes or happenings more significant than your run-of-the-mill person.  Was that part of being blessed by those ?heavenly? beams of light piercing the moment of their births?  Was it a blessing?  Or was it a curse, causing each of them to endure pain and hardship throughout their lives?  And if so, what was that lifetime of pain preparing them for?  Monique began talking again, her words indicating that she may have harbored similar thoughts.

?You are so, so principled, Michael.  Everything angers you to no end; societally condoned mutilations, martyred murderers, ill-informed news channels, and even Christians.  All of them fill your heart with hate.?

?No, Monique, I don?t hate any of them specifically.  I hate evil.  I hate lies.  I especially hate those that prey on other?s weaknesses.?

?Michael, just for a moment, forget what happened to me in my past.    And please forgive whomever or whatever warped your very soul years ago.  Don?t be like me and let hatred or shame close you off from the world.  Get over any perceived indiscretions to your Jewish roots, or whatever faith, or lack of faith you now have.  And then answer just one question for me.  Why do you fear that what is happening here in Houston and on the Moon might be heading towards a cosmic, Christian epiphany??

?I can?t.?

?Why not?  Look, I?m the Muslim here, and my ancestors have been persecuted by Christians for just about as long as you Jews have.  And I?m just as much a scientist as you are, and equally pragmatic to the core.  But I have to tell you, Michael, I?m warming to the possibility that it just might be a Christian God sending us a flare that will light the way.  What would it take for you to accept that, as well??

?Really, Monique?  Do you actually think that once we finally resolve all that data coming from that distant black hole, we?ll see three wise men, a baby in a manger, and the Archangel Gabriel chatting up Joseph and Mary in the garden??

He didn?t give her a chance to answer.

?Well, that?s absolute hogwash!  And it?s really a moot point, now.  We are all going to perish at either Jupiter?s or the Sun?s hand very soon.  Whoever is so effectively controlling those bodies definitely doesn?t want us to see what happened two thousand years ago.  We?ll all be dead long before this Christian epiphany can even take place.?

?Why do you fear that possibility?  No, not the possibility of us dying; I know you don?t fear that.  But why do you fear the revelation of a Supreme Being?s existence, particularly the truth of the Christian God, might come before that evil force destroys us all??

?I don?t,? he said, but even he could hear the doubt in his voice.  ?Well, not exactly.  I?ve always had my doubts.  I mean, even as a child I wondered how God could allow all those kids in Africa, Bangladesh, India, China and elsewhere in the world to starve to death.  Then in my rebellious teens, I challenged God, thinking ?hey Bud, you may have created us, but you better look over your shoulder, cause, who created you??  It wasn?t until I entered my twenties that I really started hating God, or whatever the Supreme Being who watches over us is called.  And yes, there was a cataclysmic event that brought about my greatest angst, but it is actually irrelevant to events currently unfolding.?

?Irrelevant??

?Yes, what happened in my past has no real bearing on the present.  I am just a single man, an insignificant speck in the grand scheme of things.  Which brings me to what I guess is my biggest protest in all of this, my problem with all of our endeavors.?

?What?s that, Michael??

?If the ?good? side somehow triumphs, and we don?t burn to cinders or aren?t pulverized by Jupiter, would our salvation even be justified, considering the heinous crimes we have committed, and continue to commit, against our fellow man??

?Ah, so you feel that as a race, humans are unworthy, beyond redemption?  We both have our reasons for hate, and I am finally addressing mine, but you can?t get over yours.?

?Yes, I think we are beyond redeeming.  I despise all our human failings.  And no, I guess I can?t get over my hatred.  At least, not yet.  But it doesn?t matter, as we don?t deserve to be saved.?

?I know that some would say that faith is all you need, and that acts don?t determine our fate.  We might all be salvageable, despite our shortcomings.?

?Yeah, yeah.  Sounds like someone has been reading some religious texts not generally associated with her given religion.  Regardless, the good news is that we won?t have to suffer much longer.?

?Are you sure about that, Michael??

At that moment, both of their phones began to vibrate.  This time, they both turned and retrieved their respective devices from their nightstands to see why.  Apparently, the data from Mercury had arrived.

CHAPTER 34

Director Thompson and Samuel Vance stood in the BIG EYE?s command center, both momentarily lost in their own thoughts.  They had just finished reviewing the files that had finally arrived from the astronauts on Mercury.  Icarus Base had sent a video showing the CME as it streamed past their tiny planet.  It was a stunning sight, taken with the camera pointing almost vertical, the hot-white plasma stream arcing across a star-studded backdrop.  Magnificent, but deadly.

The measurements that had accompanied the video told the rest of the story.  The sunspot?s growth had not diminished at all.  The massive disturbance on the Sun?s surface continued to pump fiery material out like water from a fire hose.

?I can?t avoid this any longer.?

?No, I don?t suppose that you can,? replied Vance.

Almost every inhabitant on the Moon was once again present.  The news about Jupiter had been bad, but that planet had been acting so erratically that the scientific minds present could easily rationalize that the gas giant wasn?t done misbehaving, and would likely miss the Earth and Moon by a wide margin.  But they had all witnessed the way that the hot CME plasma had devastated Mercury and boiled away Venus?s atmosphere.  They knew that same maelstrom, if it reached them, would destroy the Earth and Man?s presence on the Moon, no matter where they chose to hide.  Caves were not really the answer, at least not a long-term answer, anywhere.  Any more than they were a lasting answer on Mercury.

Director Thompson reached down and pushed a button that activated the public address system throughout the Armstrong Lunar Complex, and also reached the few other manned outposts operated on the surface of the Moon.

?May I have your attention, please?  This is Director Thompson, coming to you from the BIG EYE?s control room.  I know that the majority of you are gathered here with me now, but for those of you who aren?t, I have some disheartening news to pass on.  Icarus base, on Mercury, reports that the coronal mass ejection has not diminished at all, and has actually intensified.  Based on their figures, and confirmed by us here on the Moon and NASA on Earth, the CME will engulf us on 15 April.  The Earth and Moon will just barely skirt through the plasma, but they will both linger within it sufficiently long enough to eradicate most manmade structures and remove most living things.  Not to mention Earth?s atmosphere.?

He paused and looked at the faces surrounding him.

?Of course, if Jupiter continues on its current collision course and arrives first, we won?t have to worry about the CME.  But odds are that at least one of them is going to strike both the Earth and the Moon.?

He paused again, to gather his words.  This was tougher than he thought it would be, even though he had been preparing this speech for quite some time.  He was, after all, known to be a bit of a pessimist.  He thought, pragmatist.  His past had more than prepared him for this future.

?I know that many of you have loved ones back on Earth.  I think that you should go back to be with them, and witness what our destiny holds while in their arms.  To accomplish that, I have delayed the scheduled Earth-bound passenger shuttle that was intended to leave today until we can fill it up with as many of you as possible.  It will leave tomorrow, April 8, at the latest.  Obviously, some of you out on our more distant outposts here on the Moon cannot possibly make it back here for that launch.  However, there is another option available for you.  The last supply shuttle from Earth arrived yesterday.  I am going to have it retrofitted to accommodate as much human cargo as possible.  If you want to get on that ship and go home, it will mean that those of you at your far stations here on the Moon will have to begin your journey to Armstrong Base as soon as possible.  Last ride home leaves at noon, April 12.  That will get you back on Earth by noon, April 14, and you will then have over twenty-four hours to get to your loved ones, before the fun begins.?

Thompson didn?t like the way he ended that last sentence.  It was too flippant.  Too contrived.  He got back on the PA.  It took him a few moments to collect himself before he could continue speaking.

?Now, I want all of you, every one of you, to listen to me.  You have been part of the greatest endeavor ever undertaken by Mankind.  Perhaps our very last one.  Be proud of what you have accomplished.  I am.  God bless you all.?

He turned off the public address system, looking around the room and nodding to each man and woman he looked at.  Afterwards, there were tears and hugs aplenty for all.  He then left it to them to figure out who would leave on the first ship, and who would leave on the second.  He told them not to dally, and ordered all of them to then get busy helping modify the freight ship for human cargo.  The control room emptied, leaving just Thompson and Vance.

?You?re not going.?

Thompson looked over at Vance and smiled.  It had been a statement, not a question.  Momentarily, he thought back to another time and another place, when he had fled his responsibility.  He wouldn?t do that this time.

?There won?t be enough room for everyone, anyway.  As it is, I think that some of those manning the outlying stations here on the Moon will be hard-pressed to make it to Armstrong by April 12.  And I?ll be damned if I?m going to leave if everyone else who wants to leave can?t.?

?I?d already figured that into my analysis before I stated the obvious fact.?

?You?re not going, either.?

?Of course not.?

?See, both of us are adept at stating the obvious.?

?True.  But neither you nor I could leave, even if it were possible.?

?And why is that??

?Because, you have to know.  Just like I have to know.  We have to see this to the end.  Whatever that end might be.?

?I know how this is going to end.  And so do you.  But why would you stay?  I thought you said that there wasn?t too much difference between what you believe, what you know, and what is true??

?Like you, I don?t like unfinished business, even if it appears that my staying will have no effect on the outcome, or on completing our quest.  I will say this, though.  The recent turn of events has me puzzled.?

?That is a first!  Perhaps more monumental than what is to come.?

?No, I know that you are wrong about that.?

They left the control room together, heading to the launch bay to see if they could lend a hand refitting the cargo ship.  Not likely, as figureheads can only rarely contribute to actual work.  They encountered Miller on the way out and Thompson stopped, appraising the man.  Vance?s stride didn?t falter as he continued on, giving Miller a firm pat on his back as he passed.

?Director, I?m not a rocket scientist? wait, I am a rocket scientist.  Still, it doesn?t take one to know that we aren?t going to be able to fit everyone on those two remaining shuttles.  So, I?m staying.  So is Hopper, and a few others.?

?That, I knew,? the retreating Vance called out over his shoulder.

Director Thompson grasped Miller?s outstretched hand, thanking him for his sacrifice.  And then both men turned and watched Samuel walking away.  He actually seemed to have a spring in his step.  Both men shook their heads.

?Interesting man.?

?Miller, you have no idea.?

The Director parted company with Miller, and then he hurried to catch up with the receding enigma.  He had to almost jog to catch up.

Two planets away, a lighter, but ultimately similar conversation was taking place.  The two astronauts on Mercury were considering their limited options, much as the lunar population was doing.  They had survived, so they were certain that there would be others on Earth, and maybe some on the Moon, that would also survive the CME onslaught.  There were many caves and manmade underground structures to be found on both worlds.  And then there was Mars, which they figured was probably safe from the solar storm?s reach.  So, Mankind would probably survive, but in what numbers, they could only guess.

Of course, their most optimistic scenario excluded the possible impending impact of Jupiter with the Earth and Moon, or the CME ultimately engulfing Mars, as well.  If both of those events transpired, they might soon actually become the last two surviving humans in the universe.  And adding a religious context to all the possible scenarios, they figured that they might be the new Adam and Eve.  Though neither could glean where paradise was, or which apple Paula would be required to bite.

So, they were concentrating on scenario numero dos, the one where Jupiter would somehow miss the Earth and the Moon, and where the CME wouldn?t reach Mars.  If both of those cataclysms were avoided, there might actually be quite a few members of Mankind that survived.  But, would there be enough to once again propagate the human race?

After they made their last disheartening transmission to Earth, Steve and Paula explored around a bit and discovered that their cave system went much further beneath Mercury?s surface than they had previously thought.  And they ascertained that much of it might be capable of being pressurized, and then filled with sufficient oxygen for them to survive.  There was plenty of water ice to meet their needs.  And energy wouldn?t be a problem until the Sun went supernova in a few billion years.  All they needed to do was find enough minerals and nutrients in Mercury?s scarce soil for the food replicator to be able to provide the sustenance they would need to survive.  They knew it was a pretty tall order, but they were optimists.  For the most part.  They also knew that they couldn?t stay on Mercury indefinitely, and that ultimately, they would have to figure out a way to leave the planet and go elsewhere.  Paradise, or apples, would be hard to find.

?You know, even if Jupiter misses, there might not be that many survivors after that hot plasma devours just about everyone on the Earth and the Moon.  The gene pool will be quite limited.?

Steve had removed his helmet and was examining some of the soil samples that they had taken on their last outing from their cave system.  He was heartened by what he was seeing in the microscope.  He prepared a few chemical tests to see exactly how rich the soil might be in required minerals.

?What are you getting at Rasmussen??

They had just gotten back from their latest walk on the surface of Mercury, trying to fashion a better antenna to keep in touch with Lunar Base and Houston.  Or whoever might survive the dual threat of the CME and the pending impact with Jupiter.  He was busy doing whatever he was doing, and she was doing her best to not pull out her hair and collapse into a trembling mass of protoplasm.  She stepped out of her suit and hung it on a nearby hanger, along with her helmet.  Rasmussen found her quite fetching in her spacesuit undergarment.

?Maybe it will just be a close call with Jupiter, and the CME won?t fry everyone.  You know, maybe the Moon will survive, or maybe some of the couples on the Space Station could procreate and continue the human race.  And there?s always the colony on Mars to get things restarted.?

?They could, I suppose.?

He swirled some of the dirt in a test tube, using a few reactants to see exactly what Mercury?s soil had for them.  He pulled down his safety glasses and looked over their rim at his fellow astronaut.  He cleared his throat a couple of times.  Once he had her attention, he put the tube back in its rack and stood up.

?Now, I?m only thinking out loud, here.  For the good of all Mankind, of course.  But I think that I would be willing to help expand that gene pool.?

?Uh huh.?

?Purely for the survival of the human race, of course.?

She smiled at him, walked over, and put her arms around his neck.  Leaning close, she tossed back her hair and then brought her lips close to his ear.  His eyes were round with apprehension.  Her hot breath on his neck broke him out in a nervous sweat.  And got him thinking.  Then her lips touched his ear as she whispered her response.

?Forget it.  Not gonna happen.?

He let out a dismayed grunt as she pushed him away and walked towards her living quarters.  He was glad that he was still in his space suit and she couldn?t see what her mean-spirited faux flirting had stirred in him.  He laughed when she looked back over her shoulder and pursed her lips, batting her eyes at him.  He wouldn?t give up.

?Spin the bottle??

?No bottles.?

?Strip poker??

?Don?t know the game.?

?Truth or dare??

?I always lie.?

CHAPTER 35

?Up early?  Or can?t you sleep, either??

Samuel Vance had come up behind Derek Thompson, who was standing in the darkness of the domed Lunar Observation room.  The round room was thirty feet in diameter, with a gigantic semi-circular, reinforced Plexiglas dome serving as its walls and ceiling.   It sat atop the human enclave nicknamed Armstrong City, population currently half a dozen, though they were expecting one last straggler from an outlying station who was still on his way.  Despite the fact that the last Earthbound shuttle, the modified cargo carrier, had left two days previously, the straggler was coming to join them.

He didn?t want to die alone.

The observatory afforded Thompson and Vance a 360-degree view of the lunar landscape, from the faraway mountains in one direction, to an imposing view of the BIG EYE in another, and the distant blue green orb of Earth just above the horizon in yet one more.  Neither dwelt on the view to the north, where an ominous glow menaced.  Nor did they look up to the dome?s zenith, where the disk that was Jupiter grew by the minute.  Instead, they were focusing their attentions elsewhere.  Thompson looked out on the BIG EYE telescope, looming large outside the dome.  It was magnificent.  At this late hour, why was Vance remotely concerned about his sleeping habits?

?No, no sleep.  And why should I?  I figure I can stand to be a little tired when the curtain falls tomorrow.?

Both men grew quiet, drinking in the spectacles afforded them in every direction.  Vance noted that the Director had his trusty Bible in his right hand.  He had become aware of Thompson?s new habit a couple of days earlier.  The man had started carrying it after that last cargo shuttle had departed for Earth.  He turned his attention back outside.

?It really is quite amazing.?

?And to think, less than one hundred years ago, just flying between continents on Earth had been a daunting undertaking.?

?Very impressive, indeed.  Mankind has outpaced every reasonable expectation, at least on the scientific and technical level.  I can?t say the same for its progress on the empathetic, spiritual, or moral fronts.?

?You?re talking as though you aren?t part of this grand experiment, Samuel.?

Dr. Vance turned once again to face Thompson.  While the Director had been looking at the BIG EYE, and still was, he had been gazing in the opposite direction, at the Earth.  He loved that mote of dust, dancing on a sunbeam.  Had for a very long time; and he would move heaven and hell to save it, if it were in his power.  In the dim light provided by the peril to the north, he regarded the man beside him.

?I am very much a part of this grand experiment, as you refer to the ascension of Man.  Unfortunately, it is a trial once again nearing its end.  This is not the first time I have been called.?

Thompson turned to regard the man beside him in the near darkness.  The room started to brighten some; were his eyes adjusting to the darkness?  Or was the approaching Jupiter providing more light?  The CME?s luminosity flaring a bit?

?Once again?  The ascension of Man?  And who?s calling you?  What the hell are you talking about?  Ah, really, who cares?  We are standing here at the precipice of Mankind?s destruction.  We are about to witness the end, the ultimate obliteration of all the hopes and dreams of billions upon billions of people, both present and past.?

?Yes, so it seems.?

?And our own destruction, moments later.?

?Evidently.?

?So, the grand experiment, my words, or the ascension of Man, your words, is a flop.  And the God we trusted to watch over us has abandoned us.?

At his words, Samuel?s demeanor changed instantly and he stared at Thompson, a deep penetrating gaze that bored effortlessly into his soul.  Thompson sensed anger.  The moment stretched on to infinity, when unexpectedly, the enigma reached down and took hold of his Bible.  Surprised, the Director at first resisted the unexpected onslaught, not wanting to relinquish his hold on the book.  Though strain as he might, the thin albino-reject slowly but surely took it from him.  Vance wasn?t violent about it, not ever appearing to put forth much effort, but the Bible ended up in his, and not Thompson?s hands.

?How long have you carried this with you, Derek Thompson?  How long have you faithfully lived by its tenets?  How long have you truly followed the Word??

Vance?s voice, not loud or shrill, was both haunting and commanding, demanding a response.  Derek was shocked into silence at the man?s actions, actually forcibly removing the Bible from his hands.  What had gotten into him?  Now, the man was holding the book up in his face, almost shaking it at him.  After a few moments, Samuel lowered it and opened the Bible to its first page.  Not looking down at it, he peered unwaveringly into the Director?s eyes with utter disdain.

?How long??

Derek felt violated, but strangely compelled to answer the question.

?Years, many years.?

?And this?? Vance asked, pointing at the first page, while all the time keeping his eyes locked with Thompson?s.  ?It can represent either of two things, two widely separated philosophies.  One a blasphemy, the other a blessing.?

?What, the cross??

?What is this to you??

Director Thompson started at Vance?s question, glancing down at the symbol crudely etched on that first page.  Looking at it, he found himself once again tumbling back twelve years into his past, to an eerily similar situation, when he had been the one asking the questions.  To a different time and place, when he had asked the very same question.  Back then, the recipient of his query had rocked back on his heels, much like Thompson was doing now.  The good Reverend Oliver Rampart had initially called his question ?bullshit? when confronted.  Thompson somehow knew that he would not have the luxury of ignoring Vance?s inquisition, as Rampart had his.  He snapped back to the present, to the domed observatory atop Armstrong City, the question still ringing out in the quiet of the night.

?What is this to you??

Thompson?s Bible was open to the first page, where a cross had been drawn, heavily scribbled over the words, ?HOLY BIBLE?, like scratches on the inside of a coffin lid; someone buried a tad too early.  But the cross was inverted, drawn upside down.  Vance?s gaze had never dropped to the Bible, instead boring into Derek?s soul.  How the hell had Vance known that he had defaced the first page of his beloved, stolen Bible?  The man never lowered his gaze, never even glanced at the book in his hands.

?It?s a calling,? Derek answered, again echoing the past.  But with truth on his side, no matter how hollow that truth sounded at that moment.  The man in front of him sensed his doubt.

?A calling?  Truly, what have you ever done to fulfill your promise to serve God?  I?m not sure you have ever regained your convictions, Derek.  And even if you have, here and now, in the eleventh hour, you lose faith??

?I have not lost my faith,? objected Director Thompson, firmly answering Vance?s seeming accusation.  It angered him.  ?It is a calling, one that I answered then and that I have always fought to preserve.  When I was younger, I erred, too many times to count.  But understood.  I am unworthy.?

?Good choice there, at least, Derek.  None of us are worthy.?

?But I wonder why God has decided to destroy Mankind.?

?God, the Destroyer?  Maybe, but you said abandoned earlier.  You insinuated that God has abandoned Mankind.  Perhaps God thinks He is the one abandoned.  And Man?s destruction is thus warranted.?

?The result is the same.?

?Yes, but belief is the determinate.  Long ago, you vowed to never waver in your faith.  Now, you must live that promise.  I personally agree with you; God has probably had enough of Mankind?s failings and has decided that your kind is not worth the effort.  And though I do not think it to be the case, any observer would surely conclude that Man is unredeemable.  Despite all of Man?s obvious shortcomings, I still hope that somehow God can be persuaded otherwise.?

With that, Vance handed Director Thompson his Bible and walked over to the stairs that led down and out of the Lunar Observatory, never glancing back.  The white-haired mystery appeared to slowly sink into the floor, his footsteps silent on the descending stairs.  His voice drifted up from the darkness.

?Dawn breaks soon.  Our fate is upon us.?

And he was gone.

CHAPTER 36

On Earth, no one could sleep, either.

Michael and Monique lay upon their beds, pushed together over a week earlier when they had been forced to abandon the Hilton and had then been sequestered at the Johnson Space Center.  It was much more uncomfortable than their cushiony bed at the hotel had been.  But at least a TV had been provided, and it was on across the room, where TrueVision was recapping the day?s news.

?This is Don Baker, coming to you live from New York City, though this will likely be the last transmission from this network.  Like all of the other news channels, we are turning our servers over to the Emergency Broadcast System, so that viewers can be provided with whatever instructions or information the federal government sees fit to provide.

TrueVision supports this last development, as all of our employees would like to be home with our loved ones tomorrow when the end comes.  I?m sure that is where most of you will be, as well.  As you now know, from our broadcasts throughout this day, it is extremely likely that in less than ten hours Mankind will essentially cease to exist.  There may be some remnants scattered throughout the Solar System, the small colony Man has established on Mars and the pair of astronauts on Mercury coming first to mind.  But most of us will simply cease to exist.  Unfortunately, I don?t have anything more to add, except on a more personal note.?

They watched the television screen as Baker took off his glasses, and closed his eyes.  He took a deep breath and tilted his head towards the ceiling.  He remained like that for at least a minute before he opened his eyes and looked back into the camera.

?As we all hunker down in the next few hours, awaiting our fate, I am reminded of an old saying: ?There are no atheists in foxholes??  Well, in that spirit, I just said a little prayer.  Of course, that goes against the very essence of TrueVision?s charter and what it stands for.  But when I just said that ?most of us will simply cease to exist,? I must confess that I was lying.  Because I don?t believe that to be true, and nor should you.  It?s never too late to find your faith, even at the last moment.  There is no end.

However, this is Don Baker signing off.  I wish all of you a good night, and a better, blessed day tomorrow.  God be with you.?

With that, the station stopped live transmission, unheard of in that day and age.  Someone with a sense of humor had arranged for the Star-Spangled Banner to play with an American flag waving as its backdrop, a nostalgic nod to the past.  And then, the old ?This is Only A Test? screen pattern for the Emergency Broadcast System was all that remained.

?Well, I guess that?s that,? Monique said.  She felt she would never get to sleep that night.  Would never sleep again, actually.

?Yeah, I suppose.  Hey, did you see that the last shuttle from the Moon landed successfully at Cape Canaveral yesterday at noon?  Apparently, there were over a dozen jets waiting there to take the lunar astronauts to wherever in the world their families were located.  It was quite a spectacle.  And it was reported later that everyone made it home.?

?We didn?t.  Nor did Thompson or Vance or any of those others still trapped up there on the Moon.?

?I know, I know.  Monique, I really appreciate your staying here with me.  It means the world to me.?

?That?s okay.  I know that you heard me talking to my mother this evening before we went to bed.  She?s doing fine, and seems to be embracing the entire ordeal.  She feels that she has led a blessed life since escaping to America with me, so many years ago.  She is content.?

?You both deserve a blessed life.?

?As do you, Michael.?

?No, I do not think so.?

?Why do you still resist?  What happened in your life that turned you so bitter?  And, why do you hate God so??

Indeed, why?  He was quiet for a long moment, still hesitant to tell her his innermost secrets.  The events that had torn through his life when he was twenty-one years old had shaped him into the man he was today.  He was damaged goods.  Lying next to her, he knew that he wasn?t alone in that regard.  So, why the reticence?  And the world was literally about to end!  This was his last chance to explain his hatred, his mistrust, and his bitterness.  Maybe in his telling, he might better understand himself, as well.

?Ah, ok.  Well, to start out, I guess I haven?t been totally forthcoming about that Claire chapter of my life.  Not with you.  Not with anyone.?

?Claire?  Your old girlfriend?  The one that got the abortion.?

?The one and only.  I know I told you about her, and the baby, and the abortion, and never seeing her again.  But I left out the biggest part.  At least to me.  I didn?t want to burden you or chase you off.  But I want you to hear it, now.  You need to hear it.  And maybe you?ll understand my bitterness.?

?I?m not going anywhere.?

Still, he hesitated, holding her close, but he finally relented and opened his damaged heart to her.  Michael started talking, quietly, almost whispering at times, the story coming out almost as though he were reliving it once again.  Monique listened intently.  Though what he revealed had obviously weighed on his mind for years, she could sense his relief in the telling.  She hoped that somehow it would help him move on.  Maybe even heal.

?As you already know, it all happened over a decade ago.  And I?ve already revealed that Claire wouldn?t listen to my protests and got the abortion.  But there was more going on.  More to the story.  Much more.?

Monique was mesmerized by the story he told?

On the job front, the BioDyne prototype was put through the paces, testing every sort of disease or condition that normally required some sort of evasive surgery to confirm a physician?s diagnosis.  And more applications were found beyond the medical field, as the probe and node clusters were used in diagnosing everything from jet engine fatigue to wind turbine oscillations.  Michael continued to polish the coding, making minor changes to fit the program with the necessities of specific diagnostic protocols.  He found himself spending more and more time in BioDyne?s testing facility, housed in the long, one-story structure just a few minutes? walk from the main corporate building.

?Hey Michael, how?s it going??

?Great, Sonya,? he lied.  The devastation had really set in earlier that morning, with yet another short call, a mere six weeks after that first one.  Claire had called him before sunup to inform him that she was going to get an abortion.  She was going to some inappropriately named ?parenthood? clinic later that afternoon.  He could come if he wanted.

Sonya frowned, not believing his answer for a moment.  She was the head of product testing at BioDyne.  A short, slight woman whose presence far outshined her stature.  She was a walking dynamo.  He liked her, awed by her efficiency and tenacity to task.  He didn?t think that there was any obstacle that Sonya could not conquer, all the while still retaining a human side.  That human empathy of hers must have sensed his mood.

?We?re testing a new protocol this morning.  I think that you will find it very interesting.  Come on into the lab; we?re just finishing the set-up.?

?Sure.?

He didn?t mean to sound so morose, but couldn?t help himself.  He followed Sonya down a hallway and through the double doors that led to the main testing lab.  The room was a hubbub of activity, a mass of technicians scurrying about to apply the BioProbe to its latest field of study.  Michael immediately saw all the medical personnel in the room, in addition to the usual technicians, which meant that this application was once again medical in nature.  Then he spied a very pregnant woman walking about in a hospital gown, and his chest tightened.  That brought him full circle, and back to worrying about what Claire had planned later that day.  Of course, he had wondered why Sonya had thought that he might find this test interesting, and now he had his answer.  Theirs was a small, close-knit community, so of course she had heard of his amorous predicament.  He soldiered on, letting her explain the current exercise.

?The patient is having some late term difficulties with her pregnancy.  We know her symptoms and have previously diagnosed the problem, but we want to see if there are any unforeseen surprises before the coming birth.?

As the attending physician got the patient to lie down on the examination bed and made her comfortable, he and Sonya moved to a nearby bank of instrumentation.  There were a couple of keyboards and associated screens, alongside a squatty boxlike device, with a round screen that reminded Michael of an old-time oscilloscope.  A couple of tiny speakers were placed on opposite ends of the table.  A mass of cables snaked from the instrument bank to the examination bed.  The doctor had already placed a BioProbe into the pregnant woman?s birth canal and was in the process of attaching a node cluster about her exposed, distended abdomen.  Finished looking over the equipment, Michael followed Sonya over to the bed.  She grasped the woman?s hand.

?How are you feeling today, Melissa??

?Not so good, Sonya.  I?ve been spotting, and I?ve been in a lot of pain.  Not contractions yet, I?m pretty sure.  This is my third child.  But I sense something is wrong with the baby.?

?I understand.  We?ll get you all hooked up and see if we can find out what?s going on with you and the fetus.?

They walked back over to the instrument table, where Sonya took a seat and invited Michael to sit next to her, in front of one of the computer monitors.  When he started to protest, she shushed him.

?Don?t be ridiculous.  Who better to have at the helm than the developer of the routine that makes what you are about to see and hear possible?  Sit down, and be amazed.?

He complied.  He knew how to manipulate the instrumentation, having watched a number of other studies in the past few weeks.  He was continually impressed with the sensitivity of the BioProbe, and thought the digital representations always came out extremely detailed.  He had never heard anything though, but settled in to see, and apparently hear, what Sonya was talking about.

?Ok, but I?ll get up right away if you need me to,? he said to the technician that normally sat next to Sonya.  The man smiled and nodded.  Looking over to the bed, he saw the doctor standing next to Melissa give them a thumbs up, and Sonya flipped a switch, bringing the BioProbe and node clusters to life.

The screens in front of Sonya and Michael immediately sprang to life, as well.  Hers showed Melissa?s womb and the birth canal in intricate detail, while his showed the baby, as though it were a live video.  Beneath both views, banners streamed across the bottom of the monitor screens, giving all of the vitals of both mother and son.  And Melissa was definitely going to have a son, the boy ultimately going to be quite the hit with the ladies.  However, the screen also showed that the baby was in distress, its umbilical cord wrapped about its neck.  The tiny face was scrunched up in obvious pain.

The circular screen on the oscilloscope-looking device also came on.  The wavering display showed an initial big spike, followed by a number of peaks and valleys of varying intensities.  The speakers, apparently connected to the oscilloscope thing, hissed in conjunction to the waves on its screen, and it wasn?t a happy sound.  Or maybe everyone got that impression because of the umbilical cord?s position.  Or the baby?s frown.  Whatever, the sound emanating from the tiny speakers sounded almost like a low moan, ebbing and flowing with the intensity of the sine wave on the oscilloscope.

?Michael, the scope is recording just the basic data from the BioProbe.  Why don?t you pull up your data acceleration routine, marry it to the probe?s data stream, and see what happens??

He complied, causing his computer screen to split in two, one half showing the frowning baby, and the other showing the BioProbe?s digital control panel.  He hovered his curser over the ENHANCE button and pushed return.  The hissing output from the speakers changed immediately, the result, astonishing.

??????

?Pain.?

?Hurt.?

?Help.?

Michael was shocked at the words coming from the speakers, delivered in a mechanical, deep-base voice.  He looked over at Sonya, who was smiling at him.

?Yes, that is the baby ?talking.?  We have been able to map quite a few of the peaks and valleys you see on that oscilloscope and associate them with words.  Not all of them, as there is quite a range.  This is Melissa?s third time here in as many weeks.  We noticed the nuchal cord on the first visit, and though it was causing some discomfort to the mother and fetus, it was not felt to be a major problem.  The second visit showed much of the same.  But now, as we see in this session, the cord has become too tightly wrapped around the neck.?

?What can be done??

In answer to his question, he saw the doctor reposition Melissa on the table, and begin to massage her abdomen.  The doctor also had a monitor beside him, which he used to check the results of his manipulations.  With a series of pushes, which Michael thought much too hard for both mother and child, he attempted to reposition the fetus.  Apparently, the baby boy agreed with Michael.

??????

?Hurt.?

?Pain.?

?No!?

Michael was spooked by the voice.  Of course, the baby was not mouthing the words, and he understood that they were just an aural interpretation of the electrical signals being generated in the fetus?s brain, but it was still haunting.  And the hard, mechanical voice was more than a little unnerving.  Michael began typing on his keyboard, moving the curser to various points on the computer screen as he worked.  He had split the screen into thirds, now having a section that showed the coding to the whole software program.

?I?m not sure if you should mess with that in the middle of a procedure,? said Sonya.

??????

?Pain.?

?Hurt.?

?Hard.?

?Hey, you invited me to sit here.  I?m just going to make a small change.  I?ll be careful,? Michael said, as the metallic voice continued to sputter from the speaker.  It seemed to be getting more and more frantic.

After just a few more strokes on the keyboard, a new button appeared on the BioProbe?s digital control panel, and next to it, a sliding scale.  Michael hovered the cursor over the button and pushed return.  The voice stopped coming from the speakers.  He pushed it again and the voice returned.  Then he positioned the curser over the sliding scale, and left-clicked his mouse, holding it down as he moved the curser up the sliding scale.  The voice emanating from the speaker became less low pitched, gaining octaves in tenor until it went from man, to woman, and eventually to that of a child.

??????

?Pain.?

?Stop.?

?Hurt.?

The child-like voice pierced the air.  It was hard to listen to.

It was impossible to ignore.

?Michael, I?m not sure that?s better!?

He had to agree, but he left the setting where it was.  The voice of a child was much more haunting than the deep robot voice had been.  But it seemed a more accurate representation.  And it certainly had an effect on the doctor?s machinations.  He stopped ham-fisting Melissa, but continued to manipulate her stomach with firm movements.  Finally, he managed to turn the baby just a little bit, and the cord loosened from around its neck.

??????

?Pain.?

?Better.?

?Soft.?

?Good.?

Michael sat back in the chair, the technician behind him giving him a pat on the shoulder.  Sonya looked over at him again, and smiled.  The tension seemed to have left the baby?s voice, though he knew that there had never really been any stress there in the first place.  It was all in everyone?s imagination, right?  He leaned over and took a look at the oscilloscope?s round screen, noting that all of the spikes and valleys had decreased in amplitude.  All except the first one, which hadn?t changed at all.  Michael turned off the oscilloscope and the technicians switched off the BioProbe as the doctor began removing the probe and nodes from Melissa?s body.  She called out her thanks to them as he did so, saying that everything felt fine to her now.

?Well done, Michael.  That certainly makes the whole experience more accurate, for lack of a better word.  I don?t know why we didn?t think of that before.?

?No problem.  I hope the other programmers don?t get upset that I messed with their platform a bit.?

?I?m sure they will be ok with it.  And I know that I certainly am.  You know, I haven?t told anybody yet, other than my husband, but I think that I?m pregnant again!  Call it woman?s intuition, or maybe just a gut feeling.  Though I may have cheated, as I have been closely monitoring my HCG and estrogen levels for any change.  And now with this kind of technology, this BioProbe that you have made so illuminating, I?m even more reassured that my baby will have a great chance of making it full term.?

?Congratulations, Sonya.  That?s great news!  You told me a while back that you?ve been trying to get pregnant, even after having experienced a couple of miscarriages.  Right??

?Yes, I?m going to try again.  Third time?s a charm??

?I certainly hope so.  That?s wonderful news.  Good luck!?

?Thanks, fingers crossed.?

?But getting back to what we saw today, I?m a bit confused about the representations of words and feelings corresponding to the sine-like waves present on the oscilloscope.  I assume that the first big hump, the first big spike that doesn?t change in amplitude, represents pain.  Am I wrong??

?As far as that first peak on the oscilloscope is concerned, we haven?t identified a corresponding noun, verb, feeling, or whatever, for it.  We just figured it was a lingering blip that forms whenever the BioProbe is first switched on.  So, we pretty much ignore it, thus the ?????? unknown sound, and the second blip is the ?pain? representation.?

?Oh, ok.  That makes sense.  So, the big spike appears whenever you turn on the BioProbe, no matter what you are looking at??

?No, I?m sorry, I may have misled you.  We?ve only seen that big spike when examining Melissa?s fetus, and she?s the only pregnant woman that we have looked at.?

?No other time??

?No.?

?You know, we could look at another one, right now.  Another pregnancy, I mean.?

?What?  Who?  Oh, Michael, you can?t be serious.?

?I am.  I have an idea, a theory, if you will,? he said, and then he started to call out to the physician, who was just finishing up with Melissa.

?Michael, no!? Sonya protested, grasping his arm, but he ignored her.

?Doctor, do you have a few minutes to hook up another subject?  Our fearless leader here thinks that she might be pregnant.  If she is, don't you think this would be a great opportunity to gather data on very early pregnancies!?

?Absolutely, and I can definitely stay to do that kind of research.  Do you have another sterilized BioProbe handy??

?I?m sure we can get one.  You don?t need another node cluster, do you??

?No, I can sterilize this one sufficiently with a little alcohol.?

?Michael, now hold on.  I haven?t even agreed to this!  We just found out I might be pregnant.  Well, we?re not certain, but hope springs eternal.  My husband had been out of town for over a month, and was only here for one night at the beginning of this week, before he had to leave and go back East, again.  I only tested my HCG and estrogen levels myself this morning, because I?m obsessive, and I was feeling a little different.  There was a miniscule change in levels, and they are well within the margin of error for the test.  But presto, I?m preggers, at least in my please-let-it-be-so fantasy world.  But even if I am, this early in the pregnancy, it isn?t even a fetus.  It?s hardly a zygote, and certainly hasn?t even entered the uterus yet!?

?Even better!  If you are pregnant, don?t you want to see what your future baby looks like now?  What an astounding opportunity!?

Michael could tell she was going to agree.

What mother wouldn?t want to see the development of her baby from conception to birth?  The question made him think of Claire again, but he forced his own situation back into the darker reaches of his mind.  Well, sort of.  Sonya stood up, shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and walked over to the bed.  The doctor handed her a clean gown, and she traipsed over to the bathroom, Michael noting a playful bounce to her step.

Minutes later, she was back, lying on the table and allowing the doctor to insert the BioProbe, and then hook up the node cluster onto her flat abdomen.  It didn?t take long until they were ready to begin the examination.  The doctor once again gave Michael and the group of technicians a thumbs-up and one of them flipped on the main power switch.  Immediately, both screens came to life, but this time there wasn?t much of anything to see.  With a little aid from the technician that had patted him on the shoulder earlier, Michael was able to finally locate the zygote on the monitor, more than three quarters of the way down the right-hand fallopian tube.  Its structure became incredibly detailed once he split the computer screen and pushed the ENHANCE button again.  The BioProbe was an amazing diagnostic tool.

But there was no sound coming from the speakers.  No little baby voices.  And the screen on the oscilloscope remained blank.  Michael was surprised at the wave of disappointment that washed over him.  But he knew Sonya wouldn?t be.

?Sonya, guess what.  You are preggers!?

?Oh, Michael,? was all she could say before she started crying.  Her happy tears almost washed away Michael?s disappointment.

?We can see the zygote working its way down your right fallopian tube.  It?s really an amazing sight.  All of this data is being recorded, right?  So that you can look at it later??

?Yes, it?s recorded.  Ha!  Too bad I can?t hear any baby voices!  Must be way, way too early in the pregnancy to pick up anything.?

At that moment, the technician at his shoulder leaned over and turned on the oscilloscope, which Michael had inadvertently left off.  Immediately, the squiggly lines snapped onto the oscilloscope?s screen; and an unidentifiable sound began to emanate from the tiny speakers.  And hearing that sound, Michael got an immediate sense of joy.  Absolute joy.

One big spike, followed by just a few smaller, indistinguishable, identical sine waves.

One big spike.

Present whenever they had tested the pregnant Melissa?s fetus.  Absent on every other medical protocol.  On every protocol.  And now present once again when they tested the pregnant Sonya?s zygote.  He turned off the BioProbe on its control panel and then opened another window on his screen, revealing hundreds of lines of code.

?Hold on,? he said, bringing his hand to massage his temple.

And then Michael began typing.  Not lightning fast, but definitely with a purpose.  He opened the emotional protocols section of the program, where other programmers had written code to identify ?feelings? that test subjects might be experiencing when various malaises affected them.  He adjusted parameters based on a hunch, doing his best not to introduce his own biases and hopes into the program.  He was brutal in that regard, wanting whatever discoveries that might be forthcoming to be pure.  And to be re-discoverable.  After about twenty minutes, while everyone waited patiently, he looked up and closed that third window.  Nobody had said a word while he typed, somehow sensing that something verging on the miraculous was in the works.  This twenty-one-year-old savant was about to open another door, and all of them somehow knew that they might soon glimpse another, new side of reality.

Michael looked about him and smiled.

?Here goes,? he said, moving his curser until it hovered over the ON button on the BioProbe control panel.  He left clicked the button, and the device began to work.  The oscilloscope immediately came to life, that same pleasant sound again issuing from the small speakers, not loud, but compelling.

Joyful.

Hesitantly, he moved the curser back over to the ENHANCE button, where it lingered for a few interminable seconds.  What was he expecting?  It was only a zygote, some claimed only tissue, just a few days old, for God?s sake.  Finally, he pushed it, engaging the advanced data augmentation routine that he had contributed to the project.  The sound from the speakers coalesced and became clear.

?Me.?

?me.?

?me.?

?me.?

The people in the room stopped whatever they were doing and turned to look, first at the tiny speakers, and then at the woman lying on the table.  Almost as one, eyes wide, their mouths dropped in wonder.  Michael was the first to recover.  He jumped up from his chair and hurried across the room towards the exit.  Everyone was quiet, watching him leave.  As he reached the door, Sonya, her voice breaking, called out to him.

?Michael, where are you going??

?I?m going to save a life.?

?I guess I know how that turned out.?

Monique had not said a word as he spoke.  He held her close, hugging her gently, knowing he might never be able to do so again.  The night was quiet, sleepless, and he was absolutely drained.

?Yeah, to this day it haunts me.?

He hadn?t been able to save his unborn child?s life.  When he reached Claire, just in the nick of time, she called all of his protestations unfounded, and actually preposterous.  It was her body, and she could do with it whatever she pleased.  And the government-funded clinic agreed.  His part was finished, as was his say in the matter.  He could not bring himself to remain with her at the clinic to attend the abortion, to comfort her, as his unborn child was flushed from her body as just so much unwanted tissue.

?What happened with Claire; I mean afterwards??

?I never saw her again.  Got on a bus and got the hell out of Dodge.  Which in itself is a story,? he said, picking up on the end of his tale of woe.

At the time, Michael had been gripped with absolute despair.  He had quit BioDyne Technologies immediately after he split up with Claire, and late that same evening had gotten on a bus headed north, and then westward to Salt Lake City.  He could have headed south out of Ft. Collins to Denver to catch a plane to Alaska, but he had never liked flying, and he knew that he needed a little time to decompress before he could force himself to board one.  The late-night ride was just what he needed to numb him sufficiently for the future air travel, but ultimately, the journey wrapped him in despair.

Most of the dull, dreary ride was uneventful, leaving him dangerously immersed in his own dark thoughts.  Then, just outside of Laramie, Wyoming, in the middle of the flickering night as the bus trundled westward on Interstate 80, he looked across the aisle and saw a young man, about his age, desecrating a Bible.  He was almost attacking it with his pen, jabbing at it over and over again, scratching a symbol on the first page.  Though not religious, he would normally have been appalled at such behavior.  But that would have been the pre-Claire Michael, not the one subsequently lost in the woods.

In the near darkness, he silently watched the distraught man scratching at the Bible, until he finally stopped, drained.  When Michael finally looked up from staring at the mesmerizing carnage on the man?s lap, he realized that the stranger was now silently regarding him.  Their eyes momentarily locked, and then solemnly, and without judgement, he nodded.  He absolutely understood such feelings of betrayal.  They never said a word to one another during that long night?s bus ride, neither sleeping, and each enduring their own private hells.  Michael tried closing his eyes, but he couldn?t get the tiny voice emanating from those speakers in the small Colorado laboratory out of his mind.  He didn?t know what kept his fellow, troubled traveling companion awake.  But somehow, he knew that they shared a common bond.  As dawn broke, they found themselves in Salt Lake City, and then at the airport, where Michael boarded the first plane he could find to Alaska, ultimately becoming a recluse up in the great white North.

?Sounds like it was a night of sorrow and despair.  For a lot of people.?

?Like tonight?  I never saw where the man with the Bible journeyed.?

The man had disappeared into the crowd at Salt Lake City terminal and ticketing, probably booking on a different airline, and thus going to a different concourse.  After getting his own ticket, Michael had grabbed a bite to eat inside the terminal before he had ventured to his gate.  He smiled as he recalled that long past early morning.  He had almost forgotten the conversation he had struck up with a really pretty girl who, like him, had been waiting for a flight out of Salt Lake.  Funny, that had been a pretty moving contact, and had actually strengthened his resolve to pursue his doctorate, which had in turn helped him get involved with the space program.  His reverie almost made him miss Monique?s next question.

?What about your discoveries at BioDyne??

?Nothing.?

Not surprisingly, considering the political climate then and since, his breakthroughs that fateful day at BioDyne were never reported to the press, or at least not reported to any press organization willing to print anything about them.  Nor had he ever seen any material related to his findings published in any medical journal, not by Sonya, or anyone else associated with BioDyne.  He didn?t attempt to publish either, ultimately sickened by the entire episode.  Over the years, he continued to hone his programming skills, lending his prodigious talents to various endeavors.  Ultimately, he found refuge in the Space program.  It was clean and uncomplicated.  And he did not have to dwell on the frailty of humans, their triumphs, or their dreams.  Or about those that they chose to worship.  Until now.

?That had to hurt.  Oh, how the world might have changed, the millions of lives that might have been saved, had your work ever become public.?

?Well, it never did.  I guess I should have tried harder.  At so many things.?

?You did your best.  Stop beating yourself up about it.  Society?s norms are hard to bend, let alone break.?

She was right.  At the time he had been indignant and really upset at the absurdity of it all.  He didn?t think that Claire, or any woman considering abortion, should have the only say in determining the fate of an unborn child.  Perhaps even the father should be allowed some input.  But most assuredly, the third person, the one with the most to lose, with no voice to render an opinion, should always be given the most consideration.  The BioDyne Probe, supercharged by Michael?s data manipulation algorithms, could have made that possible, but ultimately, no one ever learned about its potential.

?You?re right about that.  But who cares, now?  Nothing matters anymore.?

?Michael, are you sure about that?  The Jewish, Muslim, Christian God that so many on Earth still worship, can?t have done all of this, had us come so close, only to give up on us.?

Michael wasn?t sure, but did not want to acknowledge that.  And he certainly didn?t know how to atone for his sins, but on that dark bus ride so long ago, he had vowed that if he ever got the chance again, he would not shirk his responsibility.  Then again, the atonement he sought back then, and still sought, might just be for someone else.  After all, how had God allowed so many millions of His unborn children to perish so?  Why did He still allow it?  Michael had no use for the false God that a large portion of Earth?s inhabitants still believed looked after their daily existence, warding their wellbeing.  He had never found any evidence of some omniscient deity keeping tabs on humanity, doubting if one had ever existed.  All proof was to the contrary.  He hadn?t had much faith before Claire.

He had none after her.

Michael had promised to not shirk his responsibility ever again.  But as God was dead to him, and apparently wasn?t in the mood to spare Earth?s masses from a smashingly fiery extermination, he wondered what responsibility was left for him to shirk.

CHAPTER 37

For a while they lay quietly, each immersed in their own thoughts.  Michael was relieved that he had finally been able to confide in the woman beside him.  Claire and the BioDyne incident had definitely played a major part in what had motivated him for so many years.  And perhaps, defined his character.  He felt liberated, as though a great weight had been removed from his chest.  Unfortunately, he was still feeling a bit unfulfilled.

?I don?t know,? he said, finally answering her last question about God?s intent. ?I will admit that I?m a bit upset that we won?t survive long enough to see the birth of Jesus, if that was what we were to witness.  As a non-practicing Jew, I think that might have swayed me a bit towards the Christian corner.?

?Unlikely, based on my observations.  I really don?t know what it would take to do that!?

?Yeah, you?re probably right.  I keep thinking that any time now I?m going to wake up, and all of this is going to be a dream.?

?Really??

?Don?t worry.  If it really is all a dream, the first thing I?m going to do is get on an airplane and come down from Alaska to see you in Los Angeles.?

?That would be nice.  It would be nicer if you could open your heart to the possibility of Christ, just in case this isn?t a dream.?

?Who am I talking to?  A proselytizing, evangelical convert?  I thought you were a Muslim!  And I think it takes more than just ?opening my heart? to be welcomed into heaven.?

?I?m not sure.  But from what I?ve read, I think that?s about all it takes.?

?Ask me again in the morning.?

?Darling, it is the morning.?

There was a small window in their office-turned-sleeping-quarters.  The sky outside the window was already pretty bright through the venetian blinds.  The coronal mass ejection was illuminating the night sky much more than the Moon ever had.  Michael held Monique closer, her hair in his face scented with perfume from heaven.  He wished the night never had to end.  After a few minutes of silence, he heard Monique softly snoring.  Michael, the sleeping Monique in his arms, felt peace.  Everything was finally right with the world.  He held her for a few minutes more, and then got up to go to the bathroom.  She didn?t stir, even when he opened the door to the hallway beyond.  He walked to the men?s room, about forty feet away.

Why didn?t he embrace the Christian doctrine?  Monique seemingly had.  Maybe, as a pragmatist, he was still holding back because it was obvious that the other power player in this cosmic game was going to win.  They were all going to be destroyed well before they ever had a chance to witness the Divine birth the ?good? side had been hoping to share with the world.

And wouldn?t it be logical to side with a winner.

He tossed that idea out, though he usually liked the underdog.  And in this case, though the big G was getting His ass handed to Him on a platter, Michael didn?t consider Him the underdog.  He opened the door to men?s room, and almost smacked the man about to exit in the face.

?Ram!  Sorry, my friend.  I didn?t think anyone else would be up.?

?Ha, Michael!  How can anyone sleep tonight?  Why would anyone sleep tonight??

?I just left Monique.  She?s snoring away.?

?Amazing.  Charlene is up, pacing the floor, lights blazing.  I think she regrets not going to be with her parents at her house.?

?You should take her, then.  Didn?t she say that her home is about an hour away??

?I know.  I might, if she will allow me.  But, like me, I think she wants to see this through.  From here, where it all began for us.?

?It?s ashamed she never had a chance to discover what her intended role was in this grand play.?

?Agreed.  And Tony?s death has really affected her, as well.  Irrationally, she thinks that she was somehow responsible.  And that adds even more to her feeling of inadequacy.  She feels unfinished.?

?Don?t we all.?

?Yeah, I suppose so.  But at least your and Monique?s contributions ultimately led to concrete results.?

?Concrete?  We can gaze upon a beautiful planet from two thousand years ago, sure.  But time has run out, and we won?t be able to witness whatever it was that the mysterious force wanted us to witness.?

?I guess not.  But at least you accomplished something.  My part was an afterthought, really only made possible by your data manipulation algorithms in the first place.  And, of course, facilitated by some unknown force causing the BIG EYE to point in two specific directions.  In all my efforts since coming to Houston, I?ve only been able to determine that those two black holes were purposefully placed in their specific locations.  Positioned with great forethought and with a supernatural, or at least unfathomable, manipulation of time and space.  They are not random, nor are they natural.  And following that reasoning, I have disproven my personal theory that there is no room in this universe for a god.?

?I?m sorry.  I hadn?t realized that you had come to such profound conclusions.  I?ve been so busy chasing my own demons.?

?Yes, I?ve studied dozens of other singularities, now.  And all of them adhere to the theory I postulated, and thus, have now seemingly proven.  Well, sort of.  Just not these two black holes out 16.5 light years and 1000 light years from Earth.?

?About 1000 light years.?

?No, exactly 1000 light years, just as the first is exactly 16.5 light years distant.  After studying quite a few of the normal, theory-backing black holes, I have discovered that space-time, though weird, is pretty exact stuff.  And the area around those two artificial black holes is quite unique, and devoid of much distracting matter.  They are perfect for slingshoting light back to where it originated.?

?Interesting.?

?Yeah.  Look, I?ve got to get back to Charlene.  Maybe I?ll take your advice and get her home to be with her parents.  She loves them, and needs to be with them.  I love her, so anyplace she goes for this last chapter, I will go with her.?

?Understand.  Ram, if I don?t see you tomorrow, it has been an honor working with you and getting to know you.?

?Likewise, Michael.?

They began to shake hands, but that quickly segued into a long, lasting hug that neither seemed capable of ending.  After a minute, they finally separated and went their respective ways.  Before the door closed, he thought he heard Ram speaking.

?Michael, I hope you find peace.?

Why was everyone so concerned with his mental wellbeing?  Not that it mattered, as time was awfully short for any physical or spiritual healing.  After finishing his business, he stepped over to the row of sinks and looked at his image in the long mirror that stretched the length of the wall.  He sighed and decided that he looked very tired.  He was reaching to grab a second paper towel to dry his hands more thoroughly when the cellphone laying on the shelf in front of him begin to ring.  He had not even noticed it, the phone?s silver color blending rather well with the narrow, brushed-steel counter below the long, horizontal mirror.  After a few seconds, he picked it up and pushed the button to answer the call.

?Hello,? he said.

?Hello, hello.  Rama, is that you?? the voice on the other end of the line asked, with a heavy Indian accent.  Michael immediately deduced that the phone belonged to Salman, and that he must have forgotten it when he washed his own hands just minutes earlier.

?No, I?m sorry, this is not Dr. Singh.  But it is his phone.  I just accidentally came upon it, here in a restroom in the building where he and I are staying,? he explained.

?Oh, thank you, sir.  Is there any way you can take him his phone?  I must speak to him before tomorrow.  Before it is too late to?,? the sentence trailed off, the meaning understood by both of them.

?I wish I could, but I do not know which room is his.  And there are a lot of rooms on this floor.?

?That is ok.  Perhaps Rama will return to the lavatory to retrieve his phone??

?He probably will.  I will leave it on the counter above the sink where I found it.  Surely he will realize it is missing and come to get it.?

?Thank you, sir.  I am sure that he will.?

?I will poke my head into this lavatory in the morning and see if it is gone.  But, just in case someone else accidentally takes it, could I get your name and number.  So that he could call you??

?My name is Hanu, and my number is 91 124 245 1234, and I am manager of the Oberoi Hotel in Delhi.?

?I will tell him when and if I see him tomorrow,? Michael promised, and signed off.  He typed the information into his own phone and set Ram?s phone on the metal shelf as promised, black screen facing out, so anyone who entered the bathroom would notice it.

By the time he finished and exited the bathroom, the hallway was empty.  He made a mental note to look in the restroom in the morning, and to tell Salman about the call from Hanu, just in case.  He walked back down the hall, and slipped into the office-turned-bedroom as quietly as he could.  He stopped just inside the door for a moment, listening for Monique?s gentle snores.  Then he started toward the bed to join her, but something nagged at him.  At the last moment, he changed his trajectory and moved toward the desk, and his computer.

He pulled the amulet from his neck and removed the flash drive from the back of the talisman.

Exactly?

CHAPTER 38

The day came.

As it always does.

Michael stood with Monique on the sidewalk, just outside the front door of the main Johnson Space Center complex.  They had gone for a short walk in the brightening dawn.  In the distance, they could hear the sound of thousands of voices lifted up in song.  Happy.  Exultant.  Resolute.  The crowd around the complex had thinned considerably, the haters now mostly gone, to while away their final hours in whatever vices that suited them.  That left the faithful, and the hopeful, all joined together to face the future together, however short that might be.

Michael smiled.  Though it had been many weeks, it seemed like only yesterday that they had first stepped off the tram here, wondering what the fuss was all about.  The Sun was just beginning to rise to the East, but it had been bright outside for some time.  Preceding their home star, reaching from that horizon and rising high into the sky, the solar plasma storm was clearly visible, bearing down on Earth like an unstoppable locomotive.  The CME was vibrant, beautiful.  He put his arm over the shoulder of the woman beside him, the woman he loved.  The woman he would die with that day.  She shivered a bit, though it wasn?t cold.  Not in Houston, Texas on an early spring day.

?I wonder which will get here first??

He tilted his head farther back, looking slightly higher in the sky to the North, where a Moon-sized Jupiter was chugging along on its own track towards Earth.  It was moving fast, its mass growing almost visibly as he watched.  It was also stunning.  Monique was quiet beside him.  He wasn?t sure if she even had her eyes open.  Probably not, probably just enjoying the warmth of the new risen Sun on her face.  He closed his own eyes for a moment, the warm sunshine felt nice.  Really, really nice.

?I have half a mind to play hooky today, and go sit on that bench over there.  It looks like as good a place as any to watch the end of the world.?

Her elbow in his side caused a sharp pain.  He chuckled.

?You know what you are going to do.  For a man who doesn?t believe in God, you certainly have been working hard to make sure you did your part.?

He reached up and touched the amulet around his neck.  She was right.  He had spent the evening before they went to bed working on his program.  And then, after making love with her for the last time ever, and after his nocturnal meeting with Ram, he had chosen to sit at the tiny desk in their office, to put the finishing touches on his latest algorithms.  He had completed his task just before dawn, and knew that what he had created would somehow be sufficient for whatever needed to be done.  It was a matter of faith.  Crawling back into bed, it turned out he had been mistaken about their lovemaking earlier that night being their final time.

Back in the present, at the front door of the Johnson Space Center complex, he sighed, tired from a last, lost night of sleep.

?Yeah, you?re right.?

?As usual.?

?As usual.  Monique, we might be a little busy today, soon, and then?  Well, just in case I don?t have the opportunity, I want to tell you that I wouldn?t have been able to put up with all of this, to have accomplished what I have, without you.  No wait, even though that?s true, it?s not what I want to tell you.?

?I know.  But let me thank you, first.  Thank you for helping me.  For allowing me to trust again.?

?I love you.?

?I know.  You have to.  Because I love you, too.  And there is something else.?

?What?s that??

?This,? she said, showing what she had been clenching in her other hand as they had walked that early dawn.  It looked just like one of those pregnancy tests.  Wait, it was one of those pregnancy tests!

?Is that???

?Yes.?

?And is it???

?Positive.?

Michael felt none of the angst he had experienced when confronted with a similar revelation ages ago in his past.  He felt; relief.  And even though he would never see his child, at least not on this Earth, in this reality, he was at peace.  Complete.  He remembered a single big spike, and a tear rolled down his cheek.  He took Monique in his arms and held her like there was no tomorrow.

After a long kiss, and a lingering hug, they turned their backs on the two harbingers of death looming high above their heads, and walked hand in hand into the building before them.  The place was mainly empty, most people choosing to be with their loved ones when the end came later that day.  Michael and Monique felt blessed that they would be doing the same.  Both of them had called their respective families the night before and said their tearful goodbyes.  Now, they just had one another.  They entered the cavernous Lunar Control Center, surprised to see Dr. Singh and Dr. Kam were already there.  Since Charlene lived fairly close, they had assumed that she would be home with her parents, and that Ram would have joined her there.  There was only a smattering of other people in the room, and a few technicians diligently manning their posts.

?Michael, Monique, how are you both this fine day??

?Wonderful, and you?  I must confess that I didn?t expect you and Charlene to be here.?

?Ah, really, after all that has transpired, where else could we be??

?Absolutely understand.  Oh, did you retrieve your phone from the restroom??

?I did, and thank you for standing it up so that I would notice it.?

?No problem.  Sorry, I would have returned it to you personally, but I didn?t know which room you were in.  By the way, did you return the call from Hanu??

At his words, Ram?s eyes grew round with surprise.

?How do you know that name??

?He called last night shortly after you left the bathroom.  That is how I noticed the phone in the first place.  Weren?t you able to get in touch with him??

Ram was fumbling in his pocket as Michael finished speaking.  He was almost frantic, and looked like he had seen a ghost.  He pulled up his call history and then held it out for Michael to see.  The last number coincided with the number that he had copied into his phone the previous night in the restroom.

?This number?? he asked.

?That?s it.  The man that called said his name was Hanu.  He said that he is manager of the Oberoi Hotel in Delhi, and that you could reach him at that number if you wanted.?

Singh immediately excused himself and moved some distance away to make a phone call.  Though they couldn?t see his face, as his back was turned, his body language went from pensive, to apprehensive, to extremely animated.  The only words they could make out were those right at first when he exclaimed, ?HANU!!!  BROTHER!!!? and then it seemed he might be weeping for joy.  Charlene took over the conversation, Salman obviously going to be busy on the phone for a while.

?Michael, in answer to your question, we?re doing fine.  And though we considered going to my house, we decided that neither one of us would miss the coming fireworks for a second.?

?I don?t think anyone on Earth is going to miss the fireworks today.?

Monique frowned at him, so Michael gave her a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.  He would behave.  Or at least he would try and behave.  They joined Charlene and the three of them moved to stand beside the same workstation they had clustered around weeks earlier, when they first arrived in Houston.  They were quiet, staring at the planet in the center of the big screen on the far wall, the only sound in the cavernous room that of Ram on the phone, a short distance away.  The unintelligible conversation, most of it in rapid-fire Hindi, went on for some time, but he joined them after a while, evidently the phone exchange quite emotional.

?Is everything ok?? Charlene asked him.

?Perfect,? he answered.  He wished he had been able to talk to Hanu longer, but both of them had pressing things to attend to.  Responsibilities.  But they promised one another that they would meet again soon, most likely in heaven, if such a place existed.  Ram, for one, was now certain it did.

He grasped Charlene?s hand, and with Michael and Monique, they looked at the image frozen on the massive central monitor on the far wall.  Holding perfectly steady, the young Earth beckoned.

?Glorious,? said Monique, giving voice to all of their thoughts.

?Yes, but it?s springtime there, as it is here.  And I certainly don?t hear sleigh bells in the air.?

?Neither do I, Michael,? came a reply from the loudspeaker, almost loud enough to be the voice of God on high.  However, it was only Director Thompson, calling down from the Moon.  Michael knew that he and Dr. Vance had decided to stay on at the BIG EYE facility, while most of the other lunar personnel had left the Moon to join their families.  The smaller screen to the left of the main screen, came alive, holding a view of Director Thompson, standing before the BIG EYE?s control room on the Moon.  As he anticipated, Samuel Vance stood close beside him.  The other smaller screen to the right of the main screen flickered on as well, showing a view of the area just outside the Johnson Space Center.  Everyone was trying their best to ignore what that screen contained.  It showed a large group of people swaying, and singing, while above them, the sky was becoming almost painfully bright with the approach of the coronal mass ejection.  And on the far edge of the same screen, Jupiter?s rapidly growing orb was steadily coming into view.

?Ha, you startled me, Director.  Who, besides Dr. Vance, is left there on the Moon with you??

?Hello, Michael,? said Vance, a bit rudely, not acknowledging Ram, Charlene, or Monique?s presence.

?There is just a skeleton crew here now.  Miller?s onboard, and Hopper, and a few others.  We?re streaming the video from the BIG EYE to you in Houston, and to the rest of the world, for that matter.  We?re linked to the Emergency Broadcast System in the US, and similar sites abroad.  I figured everyone on the Earth has the right to see what we see.  I?ll wager a good many of them probably don?t want to stand outside to watch the final crescendo, when Jupiter and the CME come crashing together like cymbals, with the   Earth in the middle between them.?

?That?s a good idea.  Do you have the manpower to pull it all off?  We have a few good people down here if you need some help.?

?Thanks, Salman.  But we?re fine.  We can still get the job done,? said Director Thompson sounding confident, almost optimistic.

Michael almost threw up.

?The job?  What job is there left for us to do?  The Earth is about to be destroyed!  Who gives a damn what God, or the unknown manipulator, or some evil detractor did or didn?t want us to see?  It doesn?t freaking matter!?

?I disagree,? came Director Thompson?s reply, 2.6 seconds later.  Vance?s two cents worth were quick to follow.

?I don?t think everything is finished; not by a long shot.?

Michael just shook his head.  These people were delusional.  Then again, he was standing right there in Houston with the rest of the crazies.  So, he must be in that same category.  Samuel Vance?s voice again broke him out of his reverie.

?I think there is much more to come.  Don?t you, Michael?  Me thinks ye protesteth too much, and have for way too long.  More importantly, don?t you want to see??

Sometimes he couldn?t stand Vance.

He just had that way of getting under a man?s skin.  Like picking at a scab that wasn?t even visible but, nonetheless, needed scratching.  Michael was staring at the two-thousand-year-old Earth up on the center screen.  It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  He glanced at the screen on the right, hearing the people singing and rejoicing, the light bright beyond them.  The woman beside him gave his hand a powerful squeeze.  Looking down at her, he saw that she was smiling up at him in hopeful anticipation.

He sighed; his fate sealed.  He reached up and took the amulet from about his neck, the chain momentarily catching on his left ear.  Kneeling down at the workstation in front of them, he pulled the small 10-terabyte flash drive from the amulet?s black backdrop.

Michael scratched the itch.

?Dammit, Vance!  Yeah, I guess I do.?

He inserted the drive into the computer terminal?s interface, and began typing commands.  He sensed, more than heard, his three companions move in closer behind him.  They glanced down at him, and what he was doing, but their eyes were constantly drawn to the big screen on the wall across from them.  And the one to the right.  He didn?t want to distract them, but he needed to explain what he was doing.

?The data manipulation program that I brought with me when I got to Houston, and subsequently fine-tuned, provided a quantum leap in that technology.  It was over a thousand times more powerful than anything before it.  I didn?t think we could possibly squeeze any more digital resolution out of the BIG EYE, but shortly after I arrived here, I became, for lack of a better word, inspired.?

He reached up and stroked the hand that he felt on his shoulder.  He knew to whom it belonged without looking.  Monique gave his shoulder a firm, loving squeeze, and he started typing again, continuing his narrative.

?I started looking at things a little bit sideways, allowing my mind to take a few left turns where I would normally have taken rights.  And then, right about the time that Tony was killed, the dam broke.  I?m not exactly sure what I have developed here, and it certainly hasn?t been tested, but somehow I know that it will work, and I have faith that it will be enough.?

With that, he pushed the ENTER button, stood up, and rejoined his colleagues to watch the big screen.  He stood behind Monique, his hands unconsciously drifting to lightly grasp her tummy, where his unborn child grew.  For a long time, nothing happened on the screen, the computer terminal in front of them remaining silent.  That was not the case for the mainframe computer, located in a small, super-cooled room just off Houston?s Lunar Control Center.  It was whirring away like someone had just fed its hamsters amphetamines.

Up on the big central screen, courtesy of the BIG EYE, and Michael?s new program, the view from 2000 years ago began to change, the Earth creeping closer, their imaginary rocket ship finding a bit more range.  The world, unmarred by Man?s defilements, soon filled the whole screen as they descended towards their ultimate destination.  Continents came into focus, the angle of their approach oblique, until finally they skirted along the barren coast of North Africa.  Their illusory rocket ship became an airliner as their view through the cloudless sky continued refining into a closer focus.  Details on the ground became visible; hills, valleys, deserts, a large river, until finally a place of human habitation came into view.  It wasn?t a small town.  It was a city.

?That is not Bethlehem, or Nazareth.?

Michael, still in denial, or was it lingering doubt, started laughing.

Wouldn?t it be just golden if historians had the place of Jesus?s birth wrong for over two millennia?  Most of it was word of mouth, anyway.  Or found in scriptures written centuries or, at a minimum, decades after the fact.  All sources were fallible.  So, they may have botched the place.  And the date!  It wasn?t anytime near September on that past world their view was approaching, when so-called scholars had determined that Jesus must have been born.  And only God knew what year it was.  He laughed again, because that wasn?t true.  He knew.

Exactly.

And obstinate to the bitter end, Michael still refused to believe.  Hell, some force, probably not the same one that started them on this crusade, but some force had been thwarting them at every turn.  And failing to stop their efforts, that force had arranged for the destruction of Earth, of all Mankind.  That sure would show them?.  ?See, look this way, look at what I told you I would show you, but no, wait?. wrong place, wrong time? ha!  Bam!?

He stopped laughing aloud, not wanting to be rude.  But more, he felt there was a reckoning coming.  Truth was about to have the last laugh.

?Too big,? said Singh.

?That is ancient Jerusalem.?

?Jesus wasn?t born in Jerusalem, Monique.  And he wasn?t born in the spring.?

Director Thompson heard what the scientists on Earth were saying and drew in a short, sharp breath.  Tears welled in his eyes, ultimately forming faint traces that wet his maybe-a-bit-chubby cheeks.  He looked over at Vance, where he thought he saw what might be a slight smile playing across his lips.  His faith was within his reach, and was warranted.  More than two hundred and fifty thousand miles away from their current Earth, and over two thousand years separated from the Earth on the screen, Derek Thompson made the final, faithful leap necessary for real understanding to begin.

?No, my friends, but he died there.  And then.?

CHAPTER 39

Exactly.

The crystal-clear view, shared by billions all around the world, slowly magnified to show a hill, where three central objects could be seen.  As their vantage point seemed to move closer, the definition of the objects increased, resolving into three men hanging on crude wooden crosses.  The screen showed a couple of Roman centurions standing guard, while men and women milled about, passing by and ignoring the carnage above them, as though it were an everyday occurrence.  Though how they could ignore it was beyond Michael?s imagination.  Anyone in the modern world would have been utterly appalled.  In their defense, they were viewing the crucifixion from the gentrified future.  However, it was not the noble, Biblical scene replicated ad nauseam in painting after painting, by masters and scribblers, alike.  No, this tableau was gruesome beyond belief.  And everyone looking could feel the pain of those three on their crosses.

All of them had their limbs nailed to the wooden crossbeams with large iron spikes, their outstretched arms tied to the rough-hewn planks so that the weight of their bodies would not allow the nails to tear through the holes that penetrated their hands and feet.  They were covered in dirt, grime, and blood, all apparently suffering severe beatings prior to, or during the suspension process.  They had vomit stains on their chests, running down in filthy streams to soil the loincloths they wore.  And each had voided their bowels at some point.  The pain they suffered must have been beyond belief.  Whoever thought that capital punishment was not a deterrent had never witnessed this sort of death.

Michael felt Monique?s hand in his harden, her grip becoming almost painful.  Like him, she was mesmerized by the scene, but greatly affected by it.  Their vantage point moved closer still, until just the upper torsos and heads of the three sufferers were visible.  The man in the middle had his head, adorned by a thorny crown, hanging low, blood oozing from the deep pricks it had inflicted.  His long, matted hair covered his face, perhaps he had passed out, and so his countenance was impossible to make out.  The other two, grimacing in their pain, appeared to be talking.

And at that moment, Dr. Charlene Kam, linguist and communication specialist, frequent friend to Houston?s Heavenly Home for the Silent, misplaced cog in this cosmic endeavor, finally found her purpose.

She spoke.

?Why have you not saved yourself?? the man on the left asks.

?Yes, Yeshua, king of kings, save yourself!? taunts the man on the right.

As one, the other three members of the chosen standing there beside Charlene in Houston turned to stare at their friend.  The small woman looked away from the screen momentarily, and smiled.

?I can read their lips.  They are speaking ancient Aramaic, and though I have only seen it written, and have never spoken the language, or heard it spoken, I can translate what they are saying.  Finally.  Finally, I know why I am here and why I am part of this noble crusade.?

Director Thompson?s voice blared out from the center?s loudspeakers.

?Is there anyone there in Houston that can put Dr. Kam?s translation up there on the screen in a timely manner?  Anyone and everyone watching this needs to see what she says they are saying.?

?I can,? responded a voice from the back of the room.  Michael was both surprised and pleased to see Simpson, the disgraced security guard from Monique?s violated lab, emerge from the shadows.  One of the few remaining technicians in the Johnson Space Center motioned for him to come over to his workstation.  After arranging for whatever he typed to be superimposed on the large center monitor?s view, the technician gave up the seat.  Simpson, a look of pride on his face, began typing feverishly.  Moments later, the words that Charlene had just spoken flashed across the bottom of the screen.  Director Thompson?s voice again boomed out.

?Perfect!?

Up on the Moon, the other two remaining members of the chosen, along with the few technicians and scientists that had not fled Earth?s satellite, were mesmerized by what was unfolding on the large screen in front of them.  Only Thompson had uttered a word since the scene on Golgotha began to play out, and only then to bark out orders and praise.  Now it was Samuel?s turn to offer some assistance.

?Yeshua is the Hebrew name for Jesus.  The name of the man on the right cross is Jaedon and the one on the left cross is called Daniele.?

Thompson gave Vance a sideways glance.  More strange behavior from the almost-albino, mirroring his behavior under the dome the night before.  How did he know what the other two guys on the crosses were named?  Did he think himself some sort of Biblical scholar, as well?  And if he did think so, he must not have studied the New Testament very well.  He had gotten the two thieves? names wrong.  He pointed out his error.

?You are correct in naming Jesus by his Hebrew name, Yeshua, but the names you have given the two thieves are incorrect.?

?No, they are not.  And they are not thieves.  Thieves would have been whipped mercilessly, or stoned, or had their hands removed.  Crucifixion was reserved for more heinous acts, such as murder, or rape, or for crimes against the government.  The two criminals we see dying with Yeshua are revolutionaries, much as He was.  The names of these two insurrectionists are actually not given in the scriptures.  They were later misidentified as Dismas, the penitent thief, and Gestas, the impenitent thief, about four hundred years after the fact, when the gospels were writ in Greek.?

?But you just said their names were Jaedon and Daniele.  Two totally different names??

Now it was Dr. Kam?s turn to interrupt.

?You two have got to be quiet.  It?s hard enough lip-reading an ancient language that I have never even heard spoken.  Now hush!?

Back on the Moon, Thompson stopped his protest mid-sentence, but continued to stare at Vance for a while longer.  The pale enigma returned the stare, his eyebrows arched just a bit, not speaking, but there was an air of amusement in his look that the Director found infuriating.  He had a hard time pulling his gaze away from his fellow scientist, but the scene playing out above them was much too compelling to ignore for very long.

The criminal on Jesus?s right stops taunting for a bit, perhaps a bout of pain making it impossible for him to speak.  The man on the left glares at the man in the middle.  He obviously is not done.

Daniele:  ?King of the Jews.  King of kings, ha!  No matter, now.  Your crown befits your fall from grace.?

The Sun is almost straight overhead the men, the shadows of their noses and brows visible.  The man in the middle seems to be rousing himself, listening to his fellow sufferers.  He slowly raises his head, his face clearly visible to the multitudes watching him from two thousand years in the future.  His countenance has suffered greatly, bruised and battered, with one eye, the right, swollen totally shut.  He ignores the man, instead looking skyward, his mouth open, he pleads.

Jesus:  ?Father forgive them, for they know not what they do!?

Daniele:  ?What we do?  We die today with you, Yeshua.  Unless your Father saves us all!?

The criminal to the right again joins the conversation, apparently recovering somewhat from his pain.  He no longer taunts the man hanging on the middle cross.

Jaedon:  ?Leave him alone.?

Daniele:  ?Why should I?  What has he done for me??

Jaedon:  ?He has asked the Father to forgive us.  That is enough.?

Jesus:  ?Truly, Jaedon, today you will be with me in heaven.?

Jaedon:  ?Thank you, Yeshua.  Will you save my brother??

Daniele:  ?Yes, what about me?  I?m here suffering your fate, just like Jaedon.  Just like so many others who have died following you.  Believing in you.?

The man in the middle again seems to lose track of what is being said, still looking skyward.  Or maybe carrying on a separate conversation that no one else is privy to.

Jesus:  ?God, my God why have you forsaken me??

Daniele:  ?See, Yeshua, even though you claim you are a god, the son of the one true God, even you have doubts.?

Jesus:  ?No, I am human like you, Daniele.  For now, in this moment.  I feel what you feel.  I know your doubts.  I know your fears.  I hear you.?

Jaedon:  ?Yeah Lord, please forgive us all our weaknesses.?

Jesus nods, eyes still pointed heavenward.

At that moment, on the small screen to the right of the main big screen, the light from the CME becomes almost blindingly bright.  The destruction of Earth is at hand, maybe just moments away.  As the end of all Mankind nears, as Jesus beseeches his Father, none of the chosen?s eyes, or any of the billions of people watching events on split screens worldwide, are drawn to the cataclysm at hand.  Their fate is sealed, their destinies complete, but they all want to witness the man, the king of kings.

Charlene is rendered speechless.

It doesn?t matter.

Jesus Christ tears His gaze down from the heavens, and stares at those witnessing Him from afar.  Looks each of them, each and every one of them, directly in the eye.  Across two thousand years of space and time, He sees.

And across all time, He speaks.

?Michael, is it enough??

Michael is shocked, as is every man, woman, and child on Earth, and everywhere else in the Solar System.  The words do not scroll across the bottom of the screen, as had the others; are not some translation posted by some repurposed security guard after Charlene lip-reads ancient Aramaic from the man on the middle cross.

They are heard.

And not just by those watching television.  The question is heard by all, and understood by all.  And is miraculously directed at each person, individually, in their own native tongue.  It is a firm, resonating question that doesn?t need translation, but demands an answer? from everyone who simultaneously hears the question asked.

Finally, mercifully, all hatred, all doubt drains from Michael, and he allows himself to believe the truth he already knew.  Fear flees that truth.  Along with billions of his brothers and sisters, he answers the question.

?Yes, it is.?

?It is,? echoes Monique, her hand grasped firmly by the man she leans upon.

?Now and forever, Lord,? says Samuel Vance, his face showing hard resolve.

?It is enough,? says Salman Singh, his chin thrust forward in a renewed steadfastness.

?Yes,? Charlene Kam says, drained, but full of bliss.

?Of course, it is,? says Hanu, still buoyant at finding his long-lost brother.

?Halleluiah,? sings Ida Louis Montgomery, the patient monitoring board in front of her lighting up like a Christmas tree.

?Yes,? Steve Rasmussen and Paula Ismail, standing hand in hand on the tiny planet nearest the Sun, answer in unison, positively.

?Always,? whispers Antonia, eyes still shut, but momentarily fully aware.

?No doubt, my Savior,? intones Derek Thompson, his doughboy jaw unusually firm.

All across the Solar System, Mankind is asked the most important question of all time.  And somehow, despite the hatred, the faithlessness, the inhumanity, the sorrow, and the seemingly unrelenting bitterness, there is near consensus; a vast majority who answer in the affirmative.

?That is good.  This time, I leave you all a blessing? to help you remember.  Do not forget.?

The sky begins to darken on the main screen; the darkness, foretold by the scriptures, descending upon the ancient world, as earthquakes shake the land.  The time of Jesus Christ?s death is approaching.  Strangely, the ground begins to shake at the Houston Space Center at the same time, and the smaller screen to the right of the main screen begins to grow dark, the members of the crowd outside looking up and weeping.

Jupiter is crossing the sky, and slowing, before finally stopping.  Inexplicably throwing its shadow across two worlds separated by thousands of years, yet linked in faith.  It eclipses the Sun, the coronal mass ejection smashing harmlessly into its colossal mass; the gas giant?s thick atmosphere absorbing the fire meant to eradicate Mankind.  Of course, its proximity to Earth causes massive tremors that will shake the land for hours.

On the main screen, nothing can be seen.  The BIG EYE needs light to be emitted for the halo to contain enough photons for even Michael?s programs and Monique?s device to function.  It remains thus, for three hours.  No one moves.  All wait, sensing more.  Finally, Jupiter begins to move again, darkness lifts from the ancient Earth, and the BIG EYE telescope can once again gather the fleeting photons from the past.  At the ninth hour in Calvary, and 3PM in Houston, on Good Friday of the year 2033, the three men on the crosses reappear.  With enormous effort, Jesus looks skyward once again, and speaks, for the last time as a man.

Jesus:  ?It is finished.?

FINAL WORD

Remmy and Warren languished in a blue-green haze, which was, as usual, of their own making.  They were still at Palomar, again in the wee hours of the morning, and had been given free reign of the observatory?s equipment, for whatever studies that they wished to undertake.  The benefits of the fame and notoriety they had realized with their earlier discoveries were coming fast and furious.  Their doctoral advisor had indicated that acceptance of their thesis would just be a formality; whatever heavenly body they decided to study, and whatever theory they subsequently wanted to put forth.

They had it made.

So, they had resumed watching humanity?s newly adopted Jupiter moon, Europa, which was much more interesting than the Earth?s old Moon.  They had decided to forego Io, with its volcano, in deference to Europa, with its atmosphere and water ice.  Besides, it was now much easier for them to study, circling the Earth just a hundred thousand miles further out than the Moon?s orbit.  And, unlike the Moon, it rotated about two times every time it orbited Earth, so the exploration of its entire surface was possible from Palomar.  Already, its ice was quickly melting, clouds beginning to form in the new moon?s thin atmosphere.  Europa, left to orbit Earth when Jupiter made its glorious flyby, was quite the blessing, and the nations on Earth had already drawn up plans for its joint exploration.

For the last couple of days, the two astronomers had been smoking massive quantities, and falling in love with Earth?s new natural satellite.  Everything was right once again with the Solar System.  The Sun had stopped spewing hot, radioactive plasma everywhere.  The Earth and its Moon had been spared total sterilization by said plasma, and gained a new moon.  The two astronauts on Mercury would be rescued soon, miraculously alive and apparently now a couple.  And Jupiter, with all of its moons, save one, seemed to be returning to its former orbit.  All was as it should be in their little corner of the Universe.  Of course, there was all that none-too-insignificant spiritual matter that the entire population of Earth was trying to come to grips with, but neither doctoral candidate was worried too much about that right then.  They were in no condition to worry about anything.

?Wonder how those guys are doing up on the Moon??

?Don?t know, don?t care.?

?Come on, Warren, let?s take a peek.?

?Remmy, we won?t be able to see them.  The Moon is back to its uncomplicated self, rotating once every 28 days as it circles the Earth, with that ole familiar face staring down at us once more.  And thus, the other side has gone dark once again to our prying eyes.  And a decorated astronomer such as yourself should know that is where the BIG EYE is located.  On the far side, my friend.?

?Humor me.?

Warren often wondered why he put up with Remmy.  Sure, they had known each other since kindergarten, but his longhaired friend could be such a tool at times.  But the weed he provided was primo.  So, he typed MOON into the Hale telescope?s positioning computer and hit enter.  The computer?s predictive algorithms kicked in immediately to find the position of the selected heavenly body, and he sat back to watch the big telescope slew towards Earth?s sole natural satellite.  He still considered the interloper, Europa, a bit unnatural.  Once it was aimed correctly, he scrutinized the view on his monitor as the Ole Man on the Moon came into focus.  No need to magnify it any further, since the BIG EYE, as he had pointed out to Remmy, was on the far side, and unobservable.  He got up from the workstation and walked over to the coffee table.  He was tired; his brain mushified by the cannabis, and he needed a shot of caffeine.

?There he is, again.  Keeping an ever watchful eye on us.?

?Sort of.  The events a couple of days ago showed us that someone else is keeping pretty close tabs, as well.?

?Tru dat.?

Warren stirred a little cream into his coffee, thinking about what he, and every other person on Earth had witnessed, just three short days ago.  Like many, his eyes had been opened to the glaring light of truth.  He had never been a religious man, nor had Remmy, but both of them were planning on going to church once the Sun was up and they were on their way home from the observatory.

It was Easter Sunday, after all.  And spirituality was all the rage.

?Uh oh.?

?What is it this time, Remmy??

?It?s happening again.?

Of course it was.  Almost as soon as the Moon came into focus on Remmy?s screen, he noticed that it was beginning to move again.  Of course, it was starting to rotate again.  Why wouldn?t it?  Once the Earth had been spared fiery destruction by God throwing a Jupiter sized flame-retardant blanket in between it and the Sun?s fury, the Moon had reverted to its boring predictable self.  Why would anyone in their right mind think that would never change again?

Yeah, right.

?Holy cow, are you seeing this??

?I can only imagine.?

As soon as he had sauntered back over and looked over Remmy?s shoulder at the screen, he picked the phone up from the bench beside his friend.  No time for calculations, triple checking the math for errors, worrying that it was 3AM, or any other such thing.  He had seen this before, and he wasn?t going to waste a minute, or even another second, not this time.

Jack Simmons answered halfway through the first ring.

It was just the third day since the world had watched Jesus Christ die on the cross.  Though separated from the actual event by an enormous amount of vacant space, and thousands of years, the vision contained in the multitude of photons crossing all that time seemed fresh and alive to the people on Earth.  And to those on the Moon, as well.  And they all yearned for more.

Two hundred and forty thousand miles away, and shortly after Warren and Remmy?s doctoral advisor got off the phone with the two young men, Samuel Vance opened Thompson?s door.  The Director was pretty sure that he had locked it when he turned in for his last sleep cycle.  Annoyingly, the enigma swung the door open without so much as a gentle knock, uninvited.  At that same moment, the phone on the nightstand beside Thompson started vibrating incessantly.  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he reached for his phone, he could just make out the odd scientist?s silhouette, framed in the doorway by the unusually bright light shining in the hallway behind him.  The resulting vision was almost otherworldly.  The luminosity formed a halo behind the apparition?s head.  Before he could reprimand his unwanted guest?s behavior or answer his phone, or even decide which he was going to do first, Samuel spoke.

?It is time.?

Thompson grew afraid at the words.  In light of what they had witnessed just days ago, all of the walking enigma?s peculiarities suddenly became clear.  He was more than just a man; he was a figure right out of the Scriptures.  As Samuel moved into his room, Derek Thompson finally recognized him for what he was and for who he must be, finally come to do God?s bidding.

?Samael??

?What?  Oh, please!  Samael?  I guess that makes a little sense, my current moniker, Samuel, being so close in spelling to Samael.  But what?s your next guess?Satan?  Gabriel?  Ha!  You and Michael have got to study your angels more thoroughly.  Here, I?ve brought you a much more accurate Bible than that one you have by your bedside.  It?s mine.  You can borrow it for as long as you want.  For as long as you need it.  Please, study it.  Live it.  Share it.?

So, saying, he picked up the Director?s Bible from the top of the nightstand and moved it into a suddenly open drawer.  Then he laid a massive, ancient tome of heavily-writ, yellowed parchment onto the tabletop, a silky pink band marking a particular, favorite passage.  On the ribbon, Thompson could just make out two uppercase red-stitched letters, a cursive L and an O, and what looked like the beginnings of a V disappearing into the pages of the book.  Unable to speak, he braced himself as the apparition leaned close.

Samuel offered the Director his hand.

?Leave your bed.  It is time.?

After being helped to stand, a relieved Thompson put on his clothes, most pieces of the cosmic puzzle having found their place.  He glanced over at the apparition and dared to ask a question.

?The seven beams of light??

?One for me to breach the mortal plane, the remaining six to cleanse you and the other chosen of original sin.  To hopefully show God that human beings were redeemable, if only given half a chance.  But across all time, only Antonia and Charlene remained pure; the rest of you, not so much.  You flirted with doubt, Michael became infected with hate, Monique was tainted by mistrust, and poor Salman fell to shame.?

?And Tony??

?Antonio was born after the purifying beams had shined.  He was a wild card in the game, deviously played by Satan at the onset, to foil the plan.?

?There was a plan??

?God was done with the human experiment.  Again.  He had decided to burn your corrupt, hateful civilization from the Solar System.  And maybe to start over, but who knows?  We planned an intervention, not to thwart God, which is not possible, but maybe to change His mind.  Of course, He knew about our efforts right away, but perhaps out of curiosity, He allowed us to continue.  And, as I said, He was not the only one to notice our meddling in the mortal plane.  Throughout all of your lives, Satan introduced trauma, doubt, pain and whatever else he could imagine, in the hope that at least one of you would become twisted enough to prevent the possibility of redemption.  However, an offhand comment that Michael made about miracles, past and present, first gave God pause.  He might still have let Mankind fry, but luckily, all of you ultimately found your way, despite Satan?s influence.  And then there was Antonio.  Ah, Antonio?  I?m sure that Satan will forever be kicking his own backside for inserting him into the game.  But come.  Hurry.  It is time.?

?Time for what??

The angel finally smiled.

?On the third day??

?Oh, right.?

As Thompson and the Archangel Chamuel once again walk down the long hallway on the Moon towards the BIG EYE?s control room, on Earth, Ida Louis Montgomery slowly walks down a darker corridor in the small private hospital just a few blocks from Houston?s Heavenly Home for the Silent.  The nurse isn?t in a hurry, as the alarm she is answering this time is for a more frequent occurrence there.  She is almost overcome with sadness, as she had hoped that whatever had caused Antonia?s sudden positive change in demeanor just recently was heralding a possible recovery.  But the soft alarm pulsing through the gathering light proclaims that is not the case.

She turns on the overhead light and enters the room, moving first to the machine to quiet its dull alarm tone.  Then she looks down at her ward of so many years, sadness again overwhelming her.  Tears rolling down her chubby dark cheeks, she reaches out to disconnect the probes from her dead patient?s forehead.

?You look so peaceful, Miss Tonia.  I hope you be happy.?

As she bends to straighten the young woman?s hair, she is treated to a vision?

She smells salt in the air; hears the high-pitched calls of distant gulls.  A soft breeze is coming off the ocean, gentle waves lapping in the noonday sun.  Dark brown hands appear, a pair of young hands grasping one another, holding on like there is no tomorrow.  A laughing young teenager, it?s Tonia, is running stride for stride with a squealing young boy, her same age.  Her twin brother, Tonio.  Together they are racing towards an older couple standing ankle-deep in the clear water, a big man black, and a beautiful woman brown.

?The four Tonys, together again,? bellows the smiling man as they approach.

?Oh, God,? responds the woman.

The children laugh hysterically.

The nurse couldn?t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

It is enough.

THE END

AUTHOR?S NOTE

I hope that you have enjoyed my latest novel.

It all started with a conversation about faith I had with Michael Weinstein, a college classmate and dear friend of mine.  Unfortunately, it rambles away from the faith theme and the main story line so often and in so many unrelated ways that it ended up a bit disjointed.  And I have to admit that it still has an unfinished feel to it, as I was, and am still, unable to tie it all together like I want.  Hopefully, you were able to get the gist of the story despite my wanderings.

But the universe is a mysterious place.  This is just one more attempt to make sense of it.  A lot of my writing efforts follow the same pattern.  Really though, isn?t that what every fiction is?  And how much difference is there between fiction and fact?

Anyway, if you enjoyed this story, please feel free to check out some of my other works.  I?ve listed them below for your reading pleasure.  They are all available on Amazon.

Steve Haggerty

NOVELS

Lucy in the Sky

Darkly

A Flash of Steel

SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

This Is Only A Test

Faith, Family, Friends?

(and other Fictions)