Chapter 2
The Delivery
Dr. Jillian Anders was in her small but tasteful apartment within the lab complex when she received the call that a new higher angel had been acquired. That meant new DNA, new genetic possibilities, new insights. She was head Geneticist here at Simonfeld, Madison, Huddle Laboratories, a highly secret lab financed by the leaders of all of the enclaves in the cradle, headed by David Whele of Vega.
Jillian was petite, brunette, fair, and pretty. Her projected inner self made her beautiful. Jillian was a middle aged woman who looked 20 years younger than she was and didn't correct people's age assumptions. It was often an advantage, especially in the sciences, to be possessed of more experiential intellect than expected.
Jillian was also just plain brilliant. She learned quickly and loved knowledge. She was a medical doctor with what was this new world's equivalent of a Ph. D in genetics and a Master's in psychology. She had done extensive study in what would be called her 'undergraduate degree' work, in anthropology. She was not only mentally strong, she was quite athletic. She loved martial arts and was master of a unique discipline.
She was also very spiritual in that she felt connected to something greater than herself. She knew she should have been broken or dead many times over, according to the laws of physics and she knew someone else had been beside her in those times of threat. She felt it. No one cheated the fates as often as she had without help.
Everyone always thought she was just being silly when, as a child, she said she didn't have to believe, she KNEW that God and angels were real …until the angels showed up. She'd always been able to "hear" thoughts from creatures and people. She'd been told she was psychic several times, but never thought that was what she was. She referred to herself as being empathic. Her insights had saved her life several times during the Extermination Wars. Lack of proximity kept her from saving her family. She was alone now.
When she got the angel call, she put on her lab coat, gloves and protective eyewear and went to the hot room – their name for the main lab's operating theatre. She didn't like many aspects of this project but it was utilizing all of her skills to the betterment of mankind, so the science was being used for good so far…though, she had doubts and they were growing daily.
She turned the corner from the dormitory wing into the main laboratory. She knew an angel was there before she went through the main science lab's doors. It felt like her blood fizzed and that sensation tickled a bit when one was close. She twitched, nearly imperceptibly, at the outset of the sensation. Then it subsided. She never slowed her progress during her body's 'angel alert' experience and entered the large lab through its hermetically sealed entryway.
Jillian greeted a few of the other lab occupants as she approached the table where the new subject lay. One of the young interns was the center of attention of four other technicians standing in a group she passed. She overheard the source of their interest: "A higher angel dropped him off! Do you believe that?! Darrin said he told them to 'Take everything from him. Leave no evidence of him. Beware of him,' the tech was recounting.
How extraordinary, she thought. She knew the Neurologists would have already inserted the neural interrupters that would keep the powerful being from use of legs, arms or wings - keep him still - so there was only scientific interest on her mind. But the oddity of an angel delivering a fellow angel to… this… registered and piqued her curiosity. She considered the delivering angels words. What would cause angels to fear their own so much? Then she turned and saw the captive angel. She actually gasped. She was grateful it was not audible.
The sight of this angel affected her greatly. He looked more like an art form than the threat his fellow angel warned of him. She had seen the greatest classical art and sculpture, including Michelangelo's sculpture, David, on a childhood family trip to Europe and had been moved to tears by its extraordinary beauty and lifelike quality. She thought this could be Michelangelo's model.
He was tall, athletically slender, etched with muscling. There was intensity to his person even in repose. And like the sculpture of David, this angel had distinctive, graceful hands with veining prominent to nourish the strength there. He had skin that looked like the polished marble Michelangelo favored. He had mid length, tousled, dark brown hair, strong jaw, full lips and an elegant exotic face that fairly glowed. There was one difference, where any moment during her study of David she expected breath to issue, here it did.
She watched the rise and fall of his well- muscled chest and abdomen, observed the strong pulse at his throat and witnessed the life it represented. She loved life and all of its wondrous evidence. His being disrobed, she appreciated the fullness of his attributes, aesthetically and clinically. Yes, Michelangelo might have sculpted this angel as David, but he had not done him justice. She smiled inwardly but gave no indication of her theory. It wouldn't have mattered to anyone there. They did not require beauty. They were very much the do-it-because-we- can types. They could even be cruel because of their propensity toward the emotionless pursuit of hard science. In many ways, she believed they were barbarians. They tromped where a lighter tread would serve. They wanted to make creation subject to their whim. She was not like them.
She saw the sciences as building blocks of something more extraordinary, something that transcended the sum of its parts. She sought to understand the intricate design that worked toward the harmonious balances that made creation blossom and flourish. Now she thought she'd love to play with the chemistry set the Creator used to make this angel. That is part of why she studied genetics. She thought there was a substantial set of the keys to that remarkable chemistry there.
The angel stirred. The effects of the subduing assault were wearing off now. His breathing changed. A slight moan signaled he was consciously aware of the lingering aches that remembered the cause of his involuntary sleep. His eyes opened. Their blue was astounding. Angels were that…astounding, Jillian mused. It did not take him long to assess his situation.
An expression of fury flashed into place. It was terrifying. The entire company took a step back. The angel spoke. "Who are you and what do you want?" It was a voice that carried the gravity of ancient authority but was, she thought, utterly velvet in its controlled under texture. Its force was effective subliminally. It made you hear him through to your bones and feel the impulse to do what was bidden. No other angel's voice had had this effect. Who was this?
The doctors all froze momentarily at the impact, but recovered. Michael had just sent an impulse, not an imperative. Had those present been possessed of lesser intelligence, the impulse would have been obeyed, but these did not answer. It was a move on the scientists' part to establish that no matter his former standing, the angel was now their property. The archangel recognized the tactic. He clenched his jaw and faced the ceiling considering his inhibited condition. This did not bode well.
He had been deriving exceptional pleasure from the heat of battle against formidable opposition, then the gravest of crimes, the unauthorized use of one of heaven's weapons against its archangel was committed. Now this. What had Furiad done? Michael attempted again to, but could not move his arms. His legs did not respond either. His wings lay still despite his bidding. Whatever was at hand, he would have to endure. He began mental preparations for an impending assault on his person. Instead he was being questioned.
"What is your name? I am Jillian." He did not respond. If Furiad had not told them who he was, he would not reveal his identity yet. The woman spoke again. "Are you a member of the Second Sphere?" Her voice was strong, deep, dulcet in quality… even sultry. He appreciated that. Her speech indicated she was exceptionally educated and there was a cadence which he recognized as evidence she had spent time in Helena. If she had been educated there, she would be capable of using language as deftly as he used his swords. He considered the higher strata of the women of Helena to be virtual sirens. He admired their skills. They were substantial for humans and they were not to be underestimated. He determined he would not respond.
Jillian half smiled and looked at the floor briefly. Most angels were anxious to tell their names and brag of their stature in heaven's army. This angel did not require heralding. She began, then, to suspect he was actually as exceptional as he appeared. She registered a resigned expression and said," Very well." She watched his expression for a second before turning to leave. She was several steps away when he spoke. "You should kill me now, otherwise you will all die by my sword." It was not a boast he offered. It was more the statement of an inevitable fact. He was not proud of it. She detected by his tone the fact saddened him.
She turned and returned to his side. She looked down at his immobilized, hand. She took it up in her hand and was going to wait for something to reveal itself. But she did not have to wait. Vague images crashed on her mind. They insinuated violence, slaughter, devastation and something else there was, too. She spoke first of the destruction. Looking at the exquisite, masculine hand she held she said, "These are a weapon of mass destruction." He corrected her. "I am that".
Still regarding the hand she held she said, "Yes, but… I think you are much more than that." Then she looked to his eyes to find any evidence that he might know that of himself. There was darkness, fury, power, rage …then a flash as he glanced briefly aside. It was there-emotional anguish. Whatever else drove him in his destructive activities, he was more and struggled to gauge his nature. The glimpse she had of his Light, his capacity to love was truth. But he was about to pay a high cost for the threat he was to his own kind. She decided she would help as she could to ease the way somewhat, though what was to be she could not stop.
She felt a wave of compassion leave her and descend on the angel. She had sent her intentions to other people in this way before without any expectation. It was so intense for her she always hoped it held some soothing manifestation, but no one had ever made mention. She thought it would be the same in this case, but the angel's almost imperceptible expression of surprised confusion meant he had received her unexpected offering. He looked questioningly at her having never experienced such a thing. He cocked his head as if trying to listen to a whisper and tenuously asked, "What was that?" It was her turn not to respond. She felt unsettled by his sensitivity to her. She gave an ever so slight nod of acknowledgment that he received her message, turned and left.