Chapter 3: Lost Boys and Golden Girls

It doesn't matter where they're going or wherever they've been,
'cause they've got one thing in common it's true
They'll never let a night like tonight go to waste,
and let me tell you something, neither will you, neither will you

"Why do we need four, Levi? That's a lot of security for eight people." Virdon frowned at the group lined up in the command center. The last time he'd had been there, the city had been under attack from Urko. Now, Virdon and Burke looked over the group of soldiers that Levi had chosen to go on the mission to Kirtland.

"Because you're going into some extremely hostile territory. And we have no idea what the situation in Kirtland itself is going to be. If you want the Elders to continue backing this expedition, that's their condition. The mission is officially under security jurisdiction. Eliana is in command." He gestured toward a tall, dark-haired woman who stood at attention. With her stood a thickly-muscled man, a tawny-feathered angel, and another slightly shorter woman.

"Now wait a minute, in command?" Virdon objected. Beside him, Burke bristled but kept silent.

Levi lifted one eyebrow. "She's very capable, Alan."

"I'm sure she is, it's just that I thought—"

"That you'd be in command?"

Virdon frowned. "Well… yes, actually."

Levi sighed gustily. "You're too invested, Alan. You have no objectivity."

"That's crap," Burke interjected, shaking his head.

"Excuse me, sir," Eliana said to Levi. He nodded for her to continue. She turned to look at Virdon. "I understand you're used to calling the shots, sir, but you guys are still playing catch-up on ten centuries of history and tech. You don't know the full capabilities of our personnel or equipment."

"I appreciate that, Eliana," Virdon replied in a tightly controlled tone. "But you don't know the territory. You've never been to Kirtland. We have." He waved a hand between himself and Burke.

"All due respect, sir, but not for a thousand years. You don't really have any more idea of what we might expect to find there, or even the physical layout of the base than we do. Isn't that right, sir?"

A flush climbed Virdon's face; he folded his arms across his chest as he struggled not to let anger get the better of him.

Levi stepped closer and put a hand on Virdon's shoulder. "I understand how hard this is, Alan. You'll still direct the overall goal, but Eliana will have the final say on any tactical decisions." Despite his stern expression, Levi's voice was filled with sympathy. "She's right. You are still a relative stranger to this time. It's not that I'm questioning your judgment, but you don't have enough facts to make good decisions. Regardless of your personal stake in this mission."

Virdon's stony-faced expression belied the conflict he felt. Part of him knew wanted to rage at Levi, insist that this was his mission, his command, as it had been for over a year on this planet, and three years before that in preparation for the voyage into space. Neither Burke nor Galen had questioned his lead since the crash, even when they followed him into danger.

And part of him felt relief that someone else was going to shoulder the responsibility for all these lives. He glanced over at Burke, whose expression said, I've got your back. However you want to play this, I'll support you. The trust laid open in the other man's face was reassuring—but also scary as hell. He was the reason why Burke and Galen were willing to risk themselves, and they all knew it. And where had it gotten them so far?

Virdon nodded curtly. "All right, Levi," he acknowledged, his voice still tight. "Set up a briefing so we can get her up to speed." He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. Burke gave an apologetic look to Levi before going after him.

As Virdon strode down the hallway, Burke trotted after him. After a few yards, he grabbed his arm to slow him down. "Hey," he let go when Virdon rounded on him; his superior officer looking like he was itching for a fight.

"What?"

Burke winced at his tone, but didn't let go or retreat. "I, uh, I think we need to talk about what happened with Grul." Since they returned from visiting the desert gorillas that morning, Virdon had been silent and brooding, a reversal of roles that left Burke no doubt that Virdon's vision had been as disturbing as his own.

"What you've seen and experienced is what the divine universe meant for you to know," Grul had explained when they had questioned him that morning, after sleeping off the effects of the ceremony. They'd woken in a cool tent, redressed in their own clothing. A small meal of bread and berries—not the traditional meat, for their guests' benefit—had been set out for them to break their fast. Grul joined them shortly after they ate. "Only you can interpret its meaning in your own lives. What you saw," Grul had pointed to each of them in turn, "would mean something completely different to me, for we have not lived the same lives."

When the three of them were alone again, Virdon explained that the visions were hallucinations caused by the leaves Grul had cast onto the fire. "We were drugged, Galen!" he'd barked at him.

Galen had looked shocked. "I'm sorry, Alan. I didn't know. Grul said that we might have visions, but he didn't mention that he would be helping to induce them with drugs."

"Al, take it easy," Burke had tried to soothe the anger he could feel building in his friend. I've definitely been hanging out with Zeke too much, he'd thought ruefully, wondering if the angel's empathic abilities could "rub off" on him. "Grul thought he was doing us a favor, by showing us something his people hold sacred. It's not like they took pictures of us in awkward situations while we were out." Virdon had glared at Burke, but had remained uncharacteristically silent during the trip back into the city.

Now Virdon's jaw tightened a fraction more, and just when Burke thought he wouldn't respond, he said in a quiet voice, "No, we don't."

"SOP, Colonel. Events get debriefed. And given the way you're prowling around here like a dog with a sore tail, I think the sooner you talk about this the better." Burke shook his head at the irony of the situation. Virdon was the one who usually tried to get a tight-lipped Burke to talk about his feelings.

Virdon shook off Burke's restraining hand. "At ease, Major," he drawled, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "As you are so fond of saying, I don't need to talk about it. It is what it is. We both heard what Grul had to say. I'm going to bring misery and death to everyone around me. Because I can't let go of the past." His voice caught, and he turned his face away from Burke.

"What makes you so sure he was talking about you?" Burke countered. He wasn't going to let Virdon take on yet another ration of guilt that wasn't his to bear. "As I recall, there were two of us that 'fell from the sky'. How do you know I'm not this Ashima character? Way I figure, I got just as good a chance of being this harbinger of despair as you do. Probably more so. We both know that I attract trouble like a cheap cologne."

"No. It's about me. I'm the one leading this mission. Making everyone march to my drum, always chasing ghosts," he said, echoing the words the visionary Burke had used. "Except now I'm not even that anymore, because Levi sees how dangerous it is for me to be in charge. All I've managed to accomplish so far is getting Galen branded as a traitor and you almost killed." He barked a dry laugh and passed a hand over his eyes. "Hell, maybe it is better for everyone if Eliana's in command."

Burke's eyes grew wide during Virdon's self-recriminating rant. "Damn, Alan." His voice was low and thick. He'd never seen his friend so full of doubt about his ability to lead. "What the hell did you see?"

Virdon finally looked back at Burke, his eyes red-rimmed. "Just another person telling me to give up this crazy quest. To let go of the past and face facts." He swallowed audibly in the quiet hallway. "There is no going home." He stalked away, leaving Burke standing in the middle of the hallway.

The light in the central shaft dimmed noticeably as the lift dropped farther and farther in the bowels of the city. Burke leaned back against the wall in the now empty elevator and watched the levels of the city flash by. Virdon's sour mood was infectious, and Burke needed to talk to someone about what he'd experienced.

Zeke worked in the city's power plant, at the bottom of the five-hundred meter deep shaft that the city was built around. As he stepped off the lift on the power plant level, Burke could feel the sub-audible hum of the generators. The visceral evidence that something massive, producing enormous amounts of energy from the fusion of subatomic particles, crouched just beneath his feet was mildly unnerving.

The simplicity of the control room for the plant contradicted the danger and complexity of the city systems, a technological wonder that exploited the connection between energy and matter theorized in the mid-twentieth century. Discarded matter produced by the residents of the city, including human waste, was recycled as fuel through the fusion reactor. The energy generated in turn created new materials, including food and clothing, through the servitor replication devices. In Burke's time, such a closed system was barely even in the imaginations of their best scientists.

Technicians sat at banks of computer terminals, monitoring every function of the reactor and recycler. Toward the back of the room, in a larger work area set off from the rest, Zeke hunched over screen. As he chewed on his bottom lip in concentration, he tapped a keyboard.

"Hey, Zeke," Burke said when he got closer.

"Ahuvi," Zeke exclaimed warmly. "When did you get back?"

"Late this morning. Then we had a meeting right away with Levi."

"So what happened out there with the Rephaim? Your message was pretty cryptic."

Burke ran a hand over the back of his neck. "It's a long story, and I could really use an ear to bend. Have you had lunch yet?"

"Not yet. I've been beating my head against a wall all morning trying to increase the efficiency of the reactor. All this power that we're expending to assist the Rephaim is starting to put a strain on the system." He shrugged. "But enough shop talk. You said lunch?"

"I was thinking a picnic up in the garden. I, ah," he stammered, embarrassment warming his face, "I already packed some food." He held up an insulated bag. "But if you can't get away, I'll understand."

Zeke smiled. "You know, I think getting away from here for a while might actually help. Like one of those problems that you only come up with a solution when you stop thinking about it so hard." He pushed himself away from the desk and stood. Holding up a finger to signal for Burke to wait a moment, he walked to a nearby workstation and bent to speak quietly with one of the technicians. Then he returned to Burke's side. "Let's go."

The ride to the top of the city from the very bottom, a nearly ten-minute journey as the lift stopped at several other floors to let Albans on and off, passed mostly in silence. Burke dropped back into the brooding mood that he'd caught earlier from Virdon. Zeke watched Burke's pensive mood warily but kept silent, wanting to let him reveal his story when he was ready. He could feel the confusion of emotions rolling off the other man.

They found an isolated spot in the garden near the west side of the wall encircling the oasis in the desert. After another ten minutes of Burke picking at his food in silence, he blew out a deep breath and cast a sheepish look at Zeke.

"Sorry. I don't mean to go silent running on you. I'm just trying to work out in my head what the hell happened."

"Tell me about it. Maybe I can help."

Burke told Zeke, in fits and starts, about the "sweat lodge" ceremony that he, Virdon, and Galen had taken part in the day before, culminating in his hallucination and Grul's recitation of an ominous prophecy. Zeke's frown grew deeper.

"If you think you were drugged, maybe you should go to Jed and get checked out. Make sure there are no lasting effects."

"I'm not worried so much about whatever weed Grul used to induce his 'visions' as I am about Alan's reaction to the whole thing." His voiced dropped. "It's like he's given up hope, Zeke."

"But you never thought there was really any hope to begin with," Zeke reminded him gently.

"Doesn't matter what I think." Burke pulled a few blades of grass from the turf and swirled them between his fingers. "A couple of months after we landed, we found a cache of computer equipment in a ruined city. We had to abandon it because the gorillas were closing in on us. I thought walking away from those computers was going to break Alan. But you know what he said to me? 'If there's one computer, there'll be more. Two things help me endure this, Pete—the need to keep you in line and the hope of returning to my family.'" Burke ticked off two fingers. Then he closed one back into his palm. "He already feels like he's failed me, that he couldn't keep me from getting hurt." He held up the remaining finger. "If he loses his hope, he's got nothing left."

"And that's why you're pushing so hard for this trip to Kirtland?"

Burke's answer was almost inaudible. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Zeke asked quietly, "So who do you think the prophecy is talking about? Do you really think it could be you?"

"Yeah, I do. Zeke, I had that 'vision' about falling from the sky before Grul recited the prophecy. I never put much stock in all that mystical crap, but why would I dream that?"

Zeke raised an eyebrow. "How do you know Alan didn't have the same vision?"

Burke thought for a moment then shook his head. "No. I think Alan's vision was about home. But he won't tell me anything more than that."

"All right, and what about the prophecy itself? I don't mean to be indelicate, but you both have had your share of tragedy following you around. But it sounds like the prophecy says this Ashima will also bring a... oh, I don't know, a revolution is the only word that comes to mind. A new age. You've both kind of already done that—for the Rephaim at least. And for this city."

"Yeah, I suppose so. But that whole 'he must surrender to succeed' thing worries me. Where I come from, surrender means you've lost. And Alan seems to be taking it to mean he has to give up." When Burke looked up at Zeke again, he didn't need to be an empath to see the fear in his eyes. "What happens when he feels like he's got nothing left to live for, Zeke?"

After lunch, Zeke needed to return to his work on the power system. Burke briefly considered seeking out Virdon again, but decided on a trip to the gym to clear the cobwebs from his head first. The training facility was more than just a simple gym. In addition to the usual space to lift weights and run laps, they also had a simulation room that used holographic technology to present any scenario that could be programmed into the computer. It was primarily used by Levi's security forces to train for combat. Burke wondered if he could program it to simulate skiing at Vale, complete with snow bunnies.

He walked into the main large space, glancing over at the racks of weights. Jed had provided him with a weight machine in his quarters while he was recovering from the accident that had brought them to Alba. But his shoulder was completely recovered now. Used to high levels of physical activity as a habit in the military, he'd started coming to the facility to work out a few times a week.

Several of the weightlifting machines were in use, but his eye was drawn to the dark-haired woman using the leg press. Eliana was dressed in shorts and a wrap-around shirt that left her arms bare; her shoulder length hair was caught up in a utilitarian ponytail. The musculature of her shoulders and upper arms flexed as she gripped the handles beneath the seat, and Burke could see the definition in her thighs and calves as she pushed up on the heavily weighted sled. When he'd left Earth, women had been an integral part of the military, but still denied any role in combat. There were a few pilots in the Navy and Air Force, and when his mission had blasted off, women had finally been admitted to the astronaut program. But they weren't combat trained. He shook his head with a smirk. Obviously, Alba was a lot more egalitarian.

He found an open spot on a mat and started stretching in preparation for a run. As he was loosening up his hamstrings, a shadow fell over him. He looked up at Eliana, who mopped sweat off her face then slung the towel around her neck.

"Levi tells me you guys were military back in your time." The statement came out as a question, accompanied by an appraising stare that Burke found a little unnerving.

He climbed to his feet. "Air Force, before we got to NASA."

"Air Force." Her eyes narrowed. "So that means you were a pilot?"

"Yeah," Burke replied.

"Well, flyboy, you want to work out together, maybe do a little sparring?" Eliana took a drink from a bottle of water. "They did still teach you guys hand-to-hand back then, right?" Her tone turned the question into a challenge.

He quirked an eyebrow. She reminded him of some of the brash, overly confident grunts and jarheads he had trained with early in his military career. "Yeah, sure, why not?" Burke looked around. "Should we put on protective gear?" He didn't see any padded helmets or gloves in evidence.

"Are you planning on letting me hit you?" she asked cockily.

Burke smirked. "Nah, but I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Don't worry about me, flyboy. I can handle a few love-taps. Assuming you can hit me." She dropped the towel and bottle on the floor and started circling Burke like a predator.

"I was raised not to hit girls," he quipped back, but took up a defensive stance all the same.

"Then it's gonna suck to be you." She dropped lightning quick into a squat and swept a leg at Burke's feet.

He fell backwards as his legs went out from under him but shoulder-rolled back to his feet a more wary distance away. She advanced on him with a flurry of punches that, even if he hadn't blocked them, would only barely have touched him. She was testing his reflexes, sizing him up. Well, two could play at that game. He shifted from simply blocking, still nothing fancy, to returning blows. Like her, he wasn't trying to actually hit her—not yet, anyway—but more to see how she reacted. He had reach on her by a couple of inches, but she was quick. Her style was unlike any of the traditional martial arts he had seen or studied back on Earth, and that made him a little nervous. But no-holds-barred street fighting had a pretty universal style. Hit the other guy more than he hit you.

Once he was warmed up, he started adding some kicks into the mix. He managed to hook a foot behind her knee, and she went down hard. He backed off as she flipped herself upright.

She scowled at him. "You're taking it easy on me. You should have gone in for a killing blow," she accused as they circled each other.

"You telling me you're not pulling your punches?" he threw back at her with a jerk of his head.

Eliana smiled. "All right. Game on."

Almost too fast to follow, she darted inside his guard and threw a punch at his chest. He caught her arm in a two handed grip and twisted it off to the side, realizing too late it was only a feign. The kick to the other side of his ribs as she let the momentum carry her down knocked him back a couple of steps. Not that the blow was hard enough to injure him; even in a full-out attack, she was still in control. She rolled and was on her feet again, advancing with punches and kicks that seemed to go everywhere. He blocked them, barely, but he was being pressed back.

He danced away from her, trying to force a break in her attack. She gave him some room. They were both getting winded, and glancing around, Burke noticed the others in the gym had all stopped to watch them. Great, he thought, spectators to watch me get my ass handed to me.

"You're pretty good." He swiped an arm across his face to mop up the sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes. "For a grunt." As he said the last word, he struck, using a combination of fists and feet, trying to stay in that sweet spot where she couldn't quite reach him to strike back. He avoided using the flying kicks and tackles that worked well with slow, heavy gorillas, because he knew she'd be able to sidestep them easily.

Then he saw the opening he'd been waiting for. She overreached as she tried to counterpunch, and he was able to twist her around and pull her back against his chest, trapping both arms. But before he could take her to the mat to finish the pin, she went limp in his arms, then pistoned backward with both legs. As they hit the mat, she drove an elbow into his solar plexus. His grip dropped immediately as the wind was knocked out of him with a whoosh. She rolled off and threw a stiff fingered punch that stopped just grazing his adam's apple.

"You're dead, flyboy."

He looked like a beached fish, mouth opening and closing, hand clutching at his midsection as he tried to force air back into his lungs with a stunned diaphragm. Finally he managed a noisy gasp. Then another. After another minute, he was finally able to speak, even though his breathing was still labored.

"You're on our side, right?"

"Last time I checked." She stood and held out a hand to him. "You ready to get up? Or do you need a healer?"

"Just give me a sec." With a wince, he rolled up onto his side and pushed himself up to one knee. The he grabbed her hand and let her pull him the rest of the way upright. He rubbed gingerly where she'd elbowed him. "Remind me not to make you mad."