Chapter 4: The Distance

I come to save you, but I couldn't remember your face.
So I closed my eyes and called out your name.
And when I found you, you were slipping away,
So I had to do what's best for you.

Galen wondered that he had never noticed before how chilly the environment was in Alba. He'd been spending more and more of his time out in the desert, living with the Rephaim. Even with their strange, primitive features, the Rephaim were closer to his own kind than the humans and angels who lived inside the city. And among the gorillas, he felt useful, helping them to assimilate to their new circumstances.

He made a mental note that the carefully controlled temperature of the city would take some adjustment for the gorillas, who were used to the heat of the desert. Although the desert temperature did drop significantly after dark, so they weren't completely inexperienced with temperature extremes.

It's not that he didn't like the Albans, especially after all that they'd done for Virdon and Burke. In fact, he counted several of the other humans, and even some of the angels, among his friends. But in the city, he felt entirely superfluous and antiquated.

Now, he was the liaison between the Council of Elders and the Rephaim; when his duties required it, he returned to the city. This morning, he'd been asked to give a progress report on how the Rephaim were settling into their new home just outside the city walls. He'd originally planned to travel back into the city with Virdon and Burke, but after the fiasco of the prophecy ceremony the night before, he'd stayed behind to speak to Grul about what had happened to him and his friends. Grul had confirmed Virdon's suspicion that they'd been exposed to a drug, then shrugged it off as a necessary part of the ceremony, to "open the mind to infinite mystery". Judging by his mood that morning, Virdon was not likely to be as forbearing. Galen planned to go see Virdon that afternoon to try to smooth things over with him.

He exited the lift on the level that held the Council chamber as well as several other rooms dedicated to the city government. As he rounded a corner, he saw Burke and Virdon in deep discussion down a side corridor. He thought about calling out to his friends, but just then, Virdon shook off Burke's hand from his arm, a dark, ominous expression on his face. He couldn't hear their exchange clearly, but the argumentative tone was unmistakable, as was Virdon's body language as he strode away. Burke watched him go, his shoulders slouched, then shuffled in a different direction. Galen wished he could follow his friends to find out what they had fought about, but he was already late for the Council meeting. And neither human looked like he was in a mood to talk right then.

Galen continued toward the Council chamber, his pulse quickening from more than the exertion of hurrying as he approached. The Council chamber was an intimidating room. From the heavy wooden doors that had to be opened manually, not under computer control, to the large round space dominated by an angled bench where the nine city elders—three men, three women, and three angels—presided over all the business that concerned the city. Back at the founding of the city, the Rephaim had had representatives as well, and the council had been balanced with equal numbers from each of the three races. But when the Rephaim had been expelled, the positions had been filled by humans, and the proportions now reflected the mating triad of humans and angels. He made another mental note; in due time, the Rephaim should be reinstated to the Council, given a voice in how the city was governed. And that, he was sure, would go over like a roasted cow at a wedding feast.

When he entered the room, the elders were already assembled, as were Joshua and Jedediah. Galen hurried to take his seat with the others. The conversations among the elders died as Malachi rapped a large wooden knob on a flat base.

"Today, the Council would like to hear about the progress of the gorillas," Malachi's strong baritone cut over the remaining din. "Galen, how are they adjusting to their new circumstances? Are they expressing any interest in moving into the city?"

Galen blinked, a little taken aback. "They are doing very well. All the villages have finished moving into the area surrounding the city. The medical attention they are receiving, as well as the clothing and other necessary materials, is really helping to take some of the pressure off of them to survive. And Elias and some of the scholars are starting lessons for all the children and any of the adults who are willing to attend."

He paused, knowing that his next statement would ruffle feathers. "However," Galen wrinkled his nose in distaste, "they are somewhat dissatisfied with the scarcity of game in this area. But no one is going hungry," he added quickly.

Mal frowned. "I thought they were being supplied by servitors from the city for all their food now?"

"They have access to them, thanks to Josh, but most of them complain that the food from the servitors tastes unpleasant. They're still hunting game and supplementing from the servitors when necessary."

A murmur ran through the Council, but died when Mal held up a hand. He turned to the healer. "Jed, how soon can the existing population of gorillas be treated so they can resume a normal diet?"

Jed's brows pulled together. He spoke slowly, uncertain. "I... I'm not sure they can be. Short bowel syndrome isn't like a broken bone. The most successful treatment will be prenatally, so that no more gorillas are born with the condition. But before we begin treating any of them, I think we need to ask ourselves if we should."

"Why wouldn't we want to cure them?"

"Because eating flesh—the hunting, the preparation, the consumption of it during rituals—is an enormous part of who they are as a people, Malachi. If we change that, we would be making a fundamental change to the foundation of their society and their culture," Jed said. Galen stared back and forth between the two angels, his mouth agape. He hadn't considered the impact on the gorillas, but it made sense. He imagined the chaos in his own society if the vegetarian diet of his people was forcibly changed to include meat.

"Even though the original change was a radiation-induced mutation?" Malachi countered. "You indicated before that this short-bowel syndrome is a health hazard. Curing it would be for their own good."

"Honestly, I can't say that definitively. They have shorter lifespans than we would expect, but there are a lot of factors to take into consideration. Insufficient food, no medical care, constant exposure to the elements. Not to mention accidental deaths from the dangers of living as a nomadic tribe in a desert.

"I'm just not convinced that our personal distaste for their dietary practices isn't the real issue here. How much do we want to change them to make them fit our vision? And doesn't that make us no better than our ancestors who manipulated their genes to begin with?"

"They have a genetic mutation, Jedediah. They weren't always like this." Mal's voice deepened dangerously with indignation.

"Yeah, three-hundred years ago they weren't. But three-hundred years is a long time, especially for a species that's only a hundred years older than that." He looked up and down the length of the Council table, appealing to them all. "Imagine if they decided that flying was the abomination and wanted to cure us of our wings? After all, we haven't always been this way—"

"Your point is made, Jedediah," Mal growled over the gasps of several other Council members. He sat back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. He fixed Jed with a piercing look. "We need to proceed with caution before making any such profound decisions about the gorillas. We did learn from the mistakes of our ancestors about the dangers of meddling in things best left to the provenance of nature."

"Why don't we ask them?" All heads swiveled toward the voice that came from the back of the Council chamber. Josh stood and sheepishly repeated his blurted question. "Why don't we ask the Rephaim what they want?"

Galen sent a quiet thanks to the gods. "If I may," he spoke softly into the suddenly silent room, "I think a delegation of Rephaim would be an excellent addition to this Council." When an angry murmur began to rise, he held up placating hands. "Not as full members—not yet—but to begin to have input into decisions that are made about their home. This city is their home now, even if they aren't living within its walls. They should have some representation with this august body, don't you think?"

Malachi pursed his lips. "Would they even understand what is going on here, Galen?"

Now it was Galen's turn to frown. "They are uneducated, perhaps even primitive, but they are not stupid, Malachi. If someone takes the time to explain things to them, they can and will learn."

"The Council will have to discuss this recommendation. Draw up a list of names, if you would, of your best choices for this delegation." He rapped the wooden knob on the desk. "I think that is all for today, gentlemen."


Virdon stabbed the control to open the door to his quarters. As the door closed, he resisted the urge to grab the nearest breakable thing and chuck it against a wall. In the last twenty-four hours, he'd been drugged, experienced hallucinations, and had the only thing that remained from his past—command of his and Burke's mission—taken from him. And throw on top of all that, a prophecy, whether he believed it or not, predicting that he would be the agent of destruction for his friends.

He felt... helpless. Whatever illusion of control he had over his life, tenuous as it had been over the last year, was gone.

Gone and turned to dust a thousand years ago.

His own subconscious mind had used the image of his wife to try to convince him of what Burke had known from the very beginning. There was no going home. Burke had told him over and over again. But he'd refused to accept it, had been unable to give up that last shred of hope to face harsh reality. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes against the hollow ache in his chest.

Sally. His beautiful Sally. Had she been afraid for him, worried for the months the mission was supposed to be away? Had she been frantic when their return date had come and gone? Had she been angry with him for going on the mission, knowing the danger? How long had she waited, believing that he would come home? Did she erect a tombstone over an empty grave after he'd been declared dead? Had she moved on with her life, found a new love... remarried?

He wasn't sure which scenario hurt more. Had she been alone for the rest of her life, holding onto a futile sense of loyalty to her dead husband? Or had she found new happiness in another's arms, taking out his picture with nostalgic sorrow a couple times a year, on their anniversary, on his birthday?

He hated the idea of Chris growing up with out a father. And he hated the idea of Chris growing up calling someone else "Dad". His son had been only eleven when he'd left; he had so much of his life ahead of him that Alan had missed. High school, college, marriage, children, a career. But Chris's life had gone on. He had done all those things, long before the bombs began to drop. Before the downfall of Man. Had he been happy? Had he blamed his absent father, his adult relationships tainted by resentment at being abandoned? Had he cried at his father's memorial service?

Whatever had been their fates, it had all transpired whether Alan was there or not. What if he did find a way home, only to return to his past ten, twenty years after they'd left? Did he really expect that he could just walk back into their lives as if nothing had happened?

When they'd first arrived in Alba, Malachi had brought up the concern that their return to their time could alter the present. For Alba, any paradox was a no-win situation. If Virdon and Burke changed history, the city and all its residents might never exist. But Alan had been so fixated on his own quest that he'd dismissed any thoughts about the damage he could do by returning to the past.

What if his returning home with knowledge of the future averted Armageddon? What if that knowledge catalyzed it instead, accelerating the timeline of Man's destruction?

Oh God.

His legs folded beneath him and he slid down the wall. Could he even take the chance that he and Burke, instead of being the saviors of Mankind, became its destroyer? The Ashima will topple dreams and smash hopes. He will leave a trail of despair and death in his wake.

Could he even take that chance with the fate of the world?

One last mission. If the trip to Kirtland didn't give him any new answers, he would try to let go of the past and embrace his new home. But he had to know that he had done everything he could to try.

He buried his head in his hands and let the grief he'd denied himself for so long drown him.


Galen checked his friends' whereabouts as he left the Council chamber. Burke was in the training facility, according to the central computer. Virdon was in his quarters. Trepidation faltered his steps as he debated which one he should go talk to. Burke hadn't seemed as bothered that morning by his experience, but he was obviously occupied. And given that the two had argued not long ago, the mood of either man was uncertain.

He steeled himself and turned his path toward Virdon.

When the door opened, Galen was shocked at how haggard the blond man appeared. His eyes wrinkled with concern. Had the drug Grul used on them made him ill?

Virdon looked away, his hand still on the control panel as if he thought about closing the door on him, then stepped back with a ragged sigh. "Come in, Galen."

Galen shuffled carefully into the room. "I don't mean to offend, Alan, but you look terrible."

Virdon shrugged and made a grunting noise. He settled in a chair and leaned his head back, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes. "What do you what, Galen?" he asked flatly.

"I, uh," Galen stammered as he settled on the edge of another chair, "I saw you and Pete in the hallway this morning. It looked like you were arguing."

Galen watched Virdon's expression close up like a folding fan, waited while the other man struggled in silence. Finally, Virdon spoke in a husky voice. "It wasn't anything important. Just a disagreement."

The chimp's eyes narrowed, and he clucked his tongue. "You," he said with emphasis, "are still a terrible liar. The Alan Virdon I know would say that anything that affects one of us affects all of us. We've been through thick and thin together, sacrificed so much for each other. Counted on each other. And now you want to bear this burden alone?" He huffed and sat back. "I'm sorry, but I just can't let you do that."

The finality of Galen's statement drew a sharp laugh. "Galen—," Virdon began, shaking his head.

"What happened to you yesterday?"

Virdon's jaw worked for a few moments before his face crumbled with misery. "My wife—," he choked out.

Galen's own vision grew watery. "Oh, Alan. You are doing everything you can to get back to them."

Virdon shook his head. "No." He clenched his hands together in his lap. "She... she told me to stop. To stop chasing this pipedream and accept that I can't go home."

Galen sat up straighter. "Oh." He tilted his head to one side. "What do you want?"

"I want... I want to know that they had good lives, that they were happy and healthy and... and... and that they didn't spend the rest of their lives waiting and worrying and hoping—," his voice cracked and he couldn't finish.

Galen reached over and squeezed Virdon's shoulder. "Alan, we know that none of the horrible things that happened came to pass in their lifetimes or a dozen lifetimes later. They never knew, never suffered through that. And if you two have taught me nothing else, it's that humans are incredibly resilient." He tapped Virdon's chest with his knuckles. "What does your heart tell you about them?"

"I don't know, Galen. Part of me wants them to have moved on. But part of me is afraid that they did. And that they would have...," he swallowed loudly, "that they'd forgotten me."

Galen frowned, his nose wiggling in thought. "You think that you'll be betraying them if you let yourself have a new life here, don't you?"

Virdon's head snapped up. "What?" His breathing grew harsher, like a drowning man gulping for air. "I... maybe I do. Wouldn't it be?"

"Tell me this. Did you want to leave them, not return?" Galen asked urgently.

"No!" Virdon's brows drew together darkly.

"Will you ever forget about them?"

"No."

"Will you ever stop loving them?"

"N-No," Virdon answered, his voice barely a whisper. A tear slipped down one cheek.

Galen knuckled Virdon's chest affectionately. "Then I think you have your answer. It's not betrayal to live, Alan. Really live—not this half-life you've been existing in for the last year. I don't think your family would want that for you any more than you'd want it for them." He paused a moment in thought. "I think this kind of sadness can be a little addictive. If you let yourself be lost in it, you don't have to take any responsibility, make any decisions. Don't let yourself get lost, Alan. Because that would be a betrayal."


The first mission briefing with the full crew of twelve took place the next day. Burke came to Virdon's quarters early. When Virdon opened the door for him, the younger man looked like a lamb at the entrance to the wolf's den. He leaned one hand against the side of the door, his head hung down as he examined the floor.

Virdon gave him a quick nod and the ghost of a smile. "Hey Pete, come in." Dark smudges under his eyes spoke of sleep lost. The conversations with his friends weighed heavily on his mind, and Virdon had spent much of the night wrestling with his rebellious heart.

Burke stepped tentatively into the room. "So... Are we okay?"

"Yeah, we're okay." Virdon programmed two cups of coffee from the servitor, giving one to Burke.

Burke nodded as he accepted the coffee and sipped it, while they both settled into chairs. "And what about you? You okay?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but he watched Virdon carefully from beneath his eyelashes.

"I.. I'm getting there." He took a deep drink of his coffee, letting the silence stretch out. Finally he took a deep breath and shifted nervously. "Listen, Pete, I think if this mission to Kirtland doesn't pan out, we... well, I should accept that we aren't...," he sighed and tried starting again. "I think we should settle down here, consider Alba our home." Before Burke could respond, he pushed on. "I know Zeke already asked if you... we'd stay, and Galen seems to have found a place here, too. It seems to be the best home we are going to get. I could... we could all have meaningful lives here."

Burke's brows knit together with concern. "I don't think you should make any rash decisions. I mean, are you sure? Really sure?" he asked carefully, not wanting to open fresh wounds.

"It's been a long time coming, Pete. But I need to put the past to rest, and that can't happen until I face reality. Much as it pains me to say, you were right. This is home now. I can't keep trying to hold onto something that's been gone for a thousand years." His voice broke. "My family is... gone." He choked out the last word as his composure cracked.

Burke knelt in front of Virdon and pulled the older man into a fierce clasp while he cried.

Neither of them talked about what they'd do if the mission to Kirtland was fruitful.


"We've equipped the hovercraft with a pulse rifle on a rotating mount, that can be controlled remotely." Eliana pointed at the holographic schematic of their transportation. "And we'll each have personal weapons as well. Body armor and radiation detectors will be worn by everyone any time they exit the vehicle."

Malachi and Darius, along with Levi, stood in the central security area along with the full crew who would be going to Kirtland.

Josh spoke next, bringing up a list on the heads-up display. "We've taken out the extra seats to make room for supplies—food, water, medical supplies, in addition to weapons, armor, explosives, equipment for digging. Pretty much everything but the kitchen sink."

"And you are sure the battery reserves will last if you have to travel at night?" Malachi asked.

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Yes, sir. The craft's been sitting in the sun charging for a week. The reserves are at full, and can power the vehicle for twelve hours at maximum drain. Recharging in full sun can take less than ten hours."

"We are hoping the trip there only takes a few hours, but the variable is getting through the city ruins," Virdon added. "Misha says there are clear ways that can accommodate the hovercraft, but it may still be slow going."

"Like rush hour traffic on the Cross-Bronx Expressway," Burke murmured.

Virdon continued. "Then we don't know how long exploring the base will take. We've got a high-power radio transmitter, so we can check in from the transport. But we should be back in less than a week."

Malachi nodded. "I'd like daily check-ins over the radio. No one goes off alone at any time."

Eliana opened her mouth to interrupted, but Levi beat her to it. "We have security protocols in place already, Mal. My people know their jobs." His tone was mild, a gentle admonition.

"All right, all right," Malachi held up his hands in surrender. "Forgiven an old man for worrying."

"Well, thanks, Malachi," Burke quipped. "It's so nice to know you care."