Episode 16: In an Acceptable Time
Derek left the bridge with second shift, briefed the marines on Feldmann and his known capabilities, and went to his quarters along with the rest of off-duty personnel. He sank onto his bunk and stared at the gray floor.
Feldmann had manipulated him. He'd earned Derek's trust carefully over the past weeks and then, when opportunity came, he'd taken advantage of that trust and used it to endanger—maybe even attempt to kill—the crew.
Because if him, Sandor lay in the med bay, bionic limbs almost completely eaten. Several others were there for concussions. Still others had broken bones, cuts, bad bruises. No fatalities so far, according to Dr. Sane, but that could easily have been different if the hull had badly breached.
They were out of the starflies' territory, but Feldmann was still aboard somewhere.
Derek drew an invisible line on the floor with his red and white boot. The sole squeaked at a pitch that made him want to cover his ears, but somehow, the discomfort helped ease the pain in his heart just a little—the way biting your lip took away some of the pain from a broken finger. But it was temporary.
He flopped backward onto his bunk, arms splayed across the narrow bed.
His comm chirped. Status updates on the marines' search party efforts. They were just getting their teams together. If anyone could root out this imposter—intruder—liar—whatever he was—it was Knox's marines. They'd fought like cornered cats on Brumis. Derek had seen footage. Anyone with that kind of grit could take the necessary steps to find someone hiding onboard a ship—even one as big as the Argo.
Sandor's science team, headed by Royster and two others, were sweeping the ship with devices akin to the ones Derek and Sandor had used to scour Mazer's detention cell. Maybe they would find something if the marines didn't.
Two unread message notices blinked at the top of the screen.
The first was from Conroy. "Doc says I've got bruised ribs. Gonna be okay. I'm so sorry about Feldmann. This is my fault. I should have vetted him better."
"You had no way of knowing," Derek sent back. "You can't blame yourself. If anyone's at fault, it's me. I should have known something wasn't right about him."
"Listen to your own advice, Wildstar. You couldn't have known either. I've never met anyone who could lie the way he did."
Derek's heart sank. He was the captain. No matter what Conroy said, it was the captain's responsibility to keep his crew safe. This never would have happened if Captain Avatar were here…
He opened the second message.
From Nova. "Saijo says no sign of Melda's ship."
Derek replied. "She must have left right after you saw her."
"God sent her to us. There's no other way she would have been nearby exactly when we needed help."
Derek didn't know how to answer that, so he didn't. Instead, he opened a folder he hadn't looked at since boarding Argo again. Nova's letters from the past year.
While he waited for the marines to come search his room, he started reading, beginning at Nova's first letter to him, sent only two weeks after he'd shipped out aboard Yunagi.
Shiori led a squad of four other marines and one shipboard security officer to the first section of crew quarters. Everyone had weapons in hand.
Crew members in this section stood outside their quarters, waiting for their rooms to be searched so they could go back inside. Third shift officers had just taken their stations. Hopefully, all search teams would be done in time for breakfast—preferably with Feldmann in cuffs at the business end of Shiori's or Sarge's rifle.
Everyone under Shiori's command stayed quiet, focused on their task.
When they reached the first room on the hall, Shiori stopped her group outside the closed door and spoke to the room's occupants, two of the nursing staff. "We won't disturb anything or look through drawers or personal items. But we will have to go through the closet, check under the bed, and inside anything large enough to hide a person."
The women nodded.
"We just want whoever this is found," said one. "It's terrifying that someone got aboard so easily—without even Captain Wildstar realizing something was wrong." She looked ready to cry. "We're locking our door and keeping our weapons close."
Shiori offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "We'll find him. Don't worry. When we finish searching your room, do as the captain instructed and stay in your quarters until the follow-up team comes to recheck behind us. Then stay inside unless your duty shift comes around or there's an emergency." She motioned her team into action.
The security officer and one other marine accompanied Shiori inside. All raised weapons before the door hissed open. The other two marines stayed outside to keep watch.
Shiori checked under the room's desk. She jabbed her rifle barrel under it in case Feldmann had found a way to make himself invisible—not an unreasonable possibility based on the short briefing she and the marines got prior to splitting up into their teams.
Nothing but air under the desk.
The security officer opened the closet, nudging aside spare uniform boots, a few sets of heels, some flats, and a pair of running shoes. "No one."
Shiori's fellow marine peered under the double bunk before checking inside a footlocker at the back of the room. He shook his head too. "Nothing."
The search continued through the entire first section of crew quarters. Most allowed them in without protest, but a few objected until Shiori planted both feet, fists on hips, and stared up at them with an expression even Sarge feared.
They found no one, though they did discover a smuggled pet turtle, a lively cannabis plant, and a collection of stuffed animals—under one of the pilots' bunks—not to mention the science officer with a uniform so dirty it literally stood up in the corner unaided.
Shiori checked the grid on her comm. The area they'd swept turned green as they left it. Sarge and his team would come through later while Shiori took her group to double-check Sarge's group's half of the ship.
Instead of thinking about how much farther they had to go, Shiori set one boot in front of the other and kept alert.
The mess hall was empty except for half a dozen KP crew cleaning tables, washing dishes, and doing food prep for breakfast. Whether Shiori and Sarge would be done leading their search by then, Shiori wasn't sure.
Each room they searched locked after they left—which might keep Feldmann out and might not. Captain Wildstar hadn't mentioned Feldmann being able to break into locked rooms, but, clearly, there was much about him even the captain didn't know.
Auxiliary engineering, the hangar, third bridge, med bay, main engineering, even the observation decks were empty of anyone who didn't belong. They were running out of places to search.
Gairen sat on his bed, staff in hand.
His master's command to get Desslok back aboard Gatlantis still rang in Gairen's ears. But since the prime minister had placed him under the equivalent of house arrest, he would have to find an indirect route to his goal.
His staff's smooth finish hugged his palm. The sure grip of wood against skin always reassured him when he felt he couldn't solve something.
Clasping his staff with both hands, he hauled himself off the bed. His staff clacked as he paced. In truth, he didn't need the staff inside his quarters, or inside the temple at all. He knew every measure by heart. He'd walked the length and breadth of this place countless times—so often he didn't need eyes.
Sometime later, he stopped in the center of his bedchamber and leaned on his staff, thinking.
Ahead of him lay the door to the outer temple chambers. The door was closed and locked, guarded by at least two men to keep him from leaving.
To his right was a long, smooth wall on which hung relief images of Gatlantis' forbidding outer shell. To his left was a door to a living area, and beyond that lay other rooms Gairen had no use for.
The refresh unit sat directly behind him, connected to the bed chamber by a narrow door, and in the back corner of the bedroom was the entrance to the tunnel he'd used to visit Prince Zordar's suite as well as Invidia's quarters, and the Gamilon, Desslok's bed chamber within his guest suite.
Outside, two new sets of footsteps replaced the two old ones. Guard change.
Without touching his staff to the floor, Gairen went to his bed and lay the staff across it, careful not to knock the staff against the bedposts. A clatter would bring the new guards inside.
With the staff set aside, Gairen went to the tunnel entrance. His soft shoes made no sound, and even the swish of his priest's robe muted when he gathered its hem into one hand so it would not trail the floor.
Once inside the tunnel, he replaced the door with slow, deliberate caution. Should anyone come inside while he was away, they might think him in another room.
Gairen let go of his robe hem and shuffled quietly down the tunnel. He passed through the rest of the temple, but instead of continuing to the prince's quarters, he branched off his usual route and took a path he hadn't traveled since his high priestly appointment.
One step at a time, he counted silently, hoping not to lose count partway to his destination and have to turn back and start again. But when he reached five thousand steps, he stopped in front of a panel much like the ones inside other rooms he visited.
With frequent stops to listen for movement in the room beyond, he edged the panel away from the tunnel wall and propped it against the tunnel interior. The panel clinked against the metal floor. To Gairen's ears it seemed loud as an engine's roar, but no one else seemed to notice it.
He hadn't been inside this room in a long time, but he remembered its layout well enough. The familiar scent of luminia dust filled the room with a spicy sharpness. Its occupant still held onto this particular vice. The drug mellowed the consumer until they cared about little more than sleep.
Gairen found the couch—moved a bit from where it once sat—and settled into it to wait.
Nova stepped back into her quarters once Sergeant Knox and his four fellow marines had made their follow-up search.
The crew quarters still seemed not to be the intruder's chosen hiding place.
She threw off a pair of plain brown boots she sometimes wore off-duty and settled onto her bunk before pulling socked feet under her to warm them. The cool deck always seemed a few degrees under her liking, and walking barefoot was unthinkable unless she wanted icicles for toes.
But what Lieutenant Alori had said on the bridge earlier chilled her more than the cold floor. The intruder looked like Desslok of Gamilon. She had met the man once—on Gamilon. The memory of his eyes still haunted her sometimes.
That's where I'd seen Feldmann's eyes before! Nova sat straight and bonked her head on the upper bunk. She hissed and rubbed the offended area.
He's dead though… How would he be aboard Argo?
What Shiori said about Starsha's words still puzzled Nova too. And how had Starsha been on the bridge? Then she recalled the time the Iscandari queen came aboard in holographic form to help them on the Iscandar trip. Starsha must have done the same thing this time. The ship must have alerted her to our situation. She rubbed the last of the sting from her head and tapped a finger on the blanket-covered mattress. Each dull thwump shook pieces of events closer into a coherent whole, but she was still missing something.
Starsha would never mistake Desslok for someone else. If Feldmann looked like Desslok but wasn't him, there were limited possibilities.
One: he could be posing as Desslok—unaware the Gamilon was dead. Perhaps Feldmann was hoping to pin his misdeeds on the dead Gamilon Leader.
Two: he could simply bear a striking resemblance to Desslok. Lookalikes did exist. Her own experience being mistaken for Astra of Iscandar was a perfect example. She looked so much like the Iscandari princess she had even fooled Starsha—Astra's own sister—from a distance.
The last possibility made her pull her blanket around her like a cocoon.
Three: he could be related to Desslok.
She wanted to dismiss that last one as impossible, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. But all three were still plausible, and she couldn't dismiss any of them without more information.
She checked the time.
00:18. Just after midnight. Got to get some sleep if I'm going to be worth anything in the morning. She turned off the lights but left a single light on in one corner. Just in case.
Her hair splayed over the pillow in dull gold strands, and as she lay in her bunk and stared at the underside of the top bed, she couldn't shut her eyes.
The room was silent except her for her own quiet breaths, but her heart thudded against her ribs as if it wanted to escape.
No! I'm not giving into fear. She laid a hand over her chest and concentrated on thoughts of home, time with her friends onboard ship, her parents, rejuvenated Earth. God, help us find him. And keep everyone safe.
The pounding subsided.
She took off her sidearm and gun belt and laid them on the little shelf set into the wall beside the bed. She would have the weapon close if she needed it.
Again, she shut her eyes in an attempt to force sleep, but within the hour she was up pacing, blanket hugged around her shoulders, feet snuggled into a pair of old slippers she'd brought from home. The fuzzy green shoes scuffed with every step, and the rhythm wore on so long she stopped hearing it. Every lap of the room represented bits of prayer—some too fragmented to express, but God understood them.
At 02:20 the rustle of leaves interrupted her weariless march.
The Iscandarian plant standing near the closet stirred, almost as if it had life of its own.
Queen Starsha had given Nova the plant as a parting gift when the Argo left Iscandar to come back home to Earth with the Rophi Shamayim—Cosmo DNA. The plant had lived in Nova's apartment since Argo's return to Earth. The only reason she'd brought it with her was because it seemed disrespectful to let a queen's gift die from neglect.
Nova brushed one smooth leaf.
The sound of a breeze through fall leaves whispered through the room, and Nova took a step back.
Silence.
She approached the plant again and touched another leaf.
A second sound, this one like tinking crystal.
Nova let go of the leaf, and the sound stopped.
A third time, she touched the plant and was greeted with a quiet series of notes that could have been the beginning or ending of a song.
"Are you going to prune my leaves, or simply tap them?"
Nova leapt back and lost her blanket. It huffed to the floor as she dashed to the opposite corner and grabbed her weapon from the bunk. She trained it on the plant. "Whoever you are, come out! I know you're not supposed to be here. I'll call Derek—Captain Wildstar—and the space marines will be in here before you can get away."
"I do not need to come out. I am right here." The voice was feminine, but with a lower register.
"Then make it so I can see you," Nova said, hands steady on her astro-automatic, though her insides felt like they would melt and run out of the room on their own. "And stop disguising your voice to sound like a woman's."
"You do see me." The plant rustled. "I am right here. And this is my true voice. Though I am not used to speaking your language yet."
"Stop standing in front of that plant, Feldmann, and come closer to the door. And keep your hands up." Nova raised her weapon to where she thought Feldmann's chest would be if he were visible."
The tinking crystal sound came again. "Ah. Now, I see. The misunderstanding is mine."
"Stop talking and come out."
The plant's foliage seemed to angle toward Nova, and two little roots poked out of the soil inside the pot. "It is I, Silesia of Jeshurun—friend to Queen Starsha of Iscandar."
Nova didn't let her weapon dip. "This is a trick. Plants don't talk. I know you're in here, Feldmann—or whatever your real name is. Now, stop this."
"I am not that horrid man," the voice said, as several of the plant's leaves turned down as if in a frown. "I am Silesia. Please, do not doubt me, Nova Forrester, fellow friend of the queen. I have orders to tell you something very important—something you must know in order to properly deal with this intruder you have on board."
Nova took a hesitant step forward, weapon ready. She walked a half-circle around the plant and kicked the air and waved her gun barrel in front of her every few inches to make sure no one was standing around the plant, invisible.
"Do you see the truth in my words?" said the plant.
Nova finally relaxed, but she kept her weapon in hand as she pulled the desk chair over and sat in front of the plant. "But… how?"
"My kind are ancient," said the plant—Silesia, she'd said her name was. "Yahweh made us long ago, and when He did, He instructed us to do good to mankind. We weathered Noah's flood of old, had a place onboard the ark. We came through Babel unscathed, for our language was not like the tongue of mankind. We lived long and never revealed ourselves until the three ships that seeded the stars left your home world long ago. Several of my ancestors had places on those ships, and we came to the stars with humanity. But, again, unlike your kind, we lived as one instead of breaking apart. Which is how we came to our home, Yaar Jeshurun, which now resides on a small colony world called Galera in the Sanzar system."
"Did—did you—see Eden? The Great Flood?"
"Not I," said Silesia, "but my grandmother root did. Humanity thinks itself so different than they once were, but they are very much the same." Silesia shook her leaves sadly. "But now, I must give you the tidings I was bidden. There walks among you a man who masquerades as one of you, but is, in truth, someone else."
"We know. Dathan Feldmann—one of our pilots."
"But do you know who he really is?" said Silesia.
"No. Someone I talked to said Starsha knew his name, but that person never heard what it was."
Silesia's leaves drooped. "I never thought I would have to utter this name again, Lady Nova, but here I stand unable to avoid speaking it. That man—this one who calls himself 'Dathan Feldmann,' is Deun, the Usurper—brother to Leader Desslok, and destroyer of the Iscandari people. I will tell you the story, but I must warn you, it is most unpleasant."
Nova set her weapon on the desk, retrieved her blanket, and pulled it around her. "I'm ready."
At 02:45, in their quarters, Mark and Tim both sat, one on the floor, the other on the lower bunk.
Tim stood. "We've got to tell the captain everything we did and why. He knows about Feldmann now, and we oughta show him some good faith and let him know we've been into the security feed too. It's the right thing to do, Marcus."
"I'm not doing that. What we did didn't hurt anyone. Derek doesn't need to know anything else besides what you've already said. And I can't believe you voluntarily told him about the camera in Feldmann's room. We could have taken it down without anyone finding out." Mark rubbed tired eyes and held his face in his hands. His voice was muffled but clearly upset. "He doesn't need this right now. I'm his friend. I should be helping him solve this, not giving him more problems to deal with."
"It's late, Marcus." Tim pulled on his shoes. "You need some rest. Once you wake up, things will be different. But until then, I'm gonna apologize to the captain—if only for myself. If you don't want me to speak for you, I won't. It's good for a man to work out his own disputes for himself."
Mark nodded. "I'll talk to him after this is over, just… not right now." He lay on his bunk, still in uniform. "Where're you going? We're not supposed to leave our quarters until the search is over."
Tim didn't stop putting on his shoes. "Gotta go see the captain, Marcus. God wants me to talk to him tonight. Won't let me have peace about it 'til I get myself over there." He picked up the worn Bible sitting atop the desk.
"Why are you taking that?"
"Dunno." Tim tucked it under one arm. "Just seems right."
"Fine. Go. But if you get stopped, I warned you."
Tim grinned. "I know, Marcus. Don't you worry about that. I'll be back." With a quick over-the-shoulder wave, he left the room, and the door locked behind him.
Gairen's wait proved long. The room's intense silence almost deafened him, but he didn't give into the temptation to make sound just to pass the time. Instead, he silently prayed to the Warbringer—Heilel—for the success of his efforts here. This was his best chance to achieve the end he desired without raising Sabera's ire unnecessarily.
The door opened, and familiar footsteps came inside.
Gairen planted his feet on the floor and faced the sound of a hitched breath.
"Gairen?" General Dyre said from the bedroom doorway.
"Terius."
"What're you doing here?" Dyre didn't approach, but Gairen sensed tension in one foot—the telltale sign he wanted to come closer.
"You once welcomed me here," said Gairen. "Before Sabera appointed me to my post. Then, you became as a stranger to me."
"You took that appointment, and I never saw you. You spent all your time in the temple praying, conducting sacrifices, rites, rituals. You never even invited me to your quarters."
"I'm a priest, Terius. Heilel comes first, before anyone else. He demands my service."
"Is that why you're here now, instead of under the Prime Minister's lock and key? Heilel's business?"
"It is," said Gairen solemnly.
Dyre took a hesitant step forward. "Then speak your purpose."
"We must bring The Gamilon, Desslok, back to Gatlantis. The success of the prince's conquest of Origin—and all our lives—may hang in the balance."
Dyre was silent, but the air thickened with something akin to surprise—or was it fear?
"That… will prove difficult. The prince seems content to let Desslok do with the Original ship as he pleases. Prince Zordar's sent his dog Morta along to ensure Desslok stays in line."
"Then do not ask the prince to bring him back," said Gairen.
"What are you suggesting?" said Dyre.
"The Terius I know was always a persuasive man. Perhaps, you could sway another's ear in this matter. Perhaps one younger, and more… inclined to listen to a plan that involves less contact with the Diviner."
"Princess Invidia."
Gairen nodded. "She was always afraid to anger the Diviner. If Desslok meets the Original ship near her world, the Diviner will take notice, and if she notes it, she may attempt to intervene. And intervention could create dire consequences for us."
"I will see what I can do." Dyre didn't come any closer, though Gairen sensed he still wanted to.
"I thank you… old friend. And Heilel thanks you as well." Gairen turned away from Dyre and headed for the open panel in the wall. "See that you speak to the princess before the morning. I shall not disturb you any further." He left the same way he'd come, and the scent of luminia followed him as he trudged back to his quarters and sat on his bed, alone again.
At 02:46, Derek finished reading Nova's last letter. She'd said so much he didn't understand—things about God and her faith in Him. It was subtle, woven through every statement, as if it were ingrained in who she was. He had always appreciated that about Nova—her genuineness. She'd never hidden who she was—what she believed.
He closed the folder of letters and rubbed tired eyes. He would have turned off the lights but didn't dare subject himself to the dark with "Feldmann" roaming the ship.
The events of the past weeks crashed over him like a falling brick wall. Everything, beginning with the visions that sent him and the rest of the crew into this flurry of activity to leave Earth.
Derek wasn't sure that was the right thing to do then, and he still wasn't sure. All this trip had brought was trouble. From the beginning, running from their own missiles, and then into a confrontation with Andromeda, then to Brumis, then into the dark matter sea, and now into this horde of deadly insects they'd just escaped while trying to solve a murder. And now, Desslok—or someone who looked just like him—was aboard and unaccounted for.
It was more than he could stand.
Derek held his face in his hands and bent over, elbows on his knees.
He wasn't fit to lead a ship and crew. He wasn't fit to try to figure out something like this. How could he help all these people survive something like this when he didn't know why he was out here? They were following a heading from a phantom—a ghost. And maybe that heading didn't mean anything. It could be hurling them further out into space toward an oncoming comet that could be nothing more than an interstellar phenomenon.
But the strange ships Derek had seen were real. He couldn't deny that. Unless his eyes were lying to him too—which he couldn't dismiss. After all, he'd just spent weeks with an intruder easing into his confidence without him even suspecting something was wrong. He'd actually considered Feldmann… his friend.
Derek didn't know who he was anymore, why he was doing any of this. They should turn around and go home. That would be safer for everyone. Once they were back, they could evacuate the ship and find this intruder without risking any of the crew's safety.
I can't think about this anymore tonight. He took out his comm and flipped through old pictures.
Shots he'd taken on the way to and from Iscandar jumped out at him one by one until he passed them and found the scant images Nova had sent him during his time aboard Yunagi.
The question she'd asked him in her last letter came back again. "What are you living for?"
"I still don't know, Nova…" he whispered. "But I wish I did."
A knock at his door sent his hand to his weapon. "Come in."
Timothy Alori stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind him. The new navigator had a bound book under one arm. "Sorry to come in so late, Captain, but I had to apologize for my behavior since coming aboard. You good folks rescued me, and I've just caused trouble for you."
"No." Derek stopped him with a raised hand. "You discovered something important."
"But I didn't do it the right way. I let my feelings push me into doing something I knew I shouldn't in order to find out something I should've brought to you."
"That doesn't matter now."
"I believe it does, sir. If a man doesn't learn to do what's right even when it's hard, then what's the point of doing right to being with? A broken and contrite heart—those're the sacrifices of God—that's what the Bible says, Captain." Tim thumped the book under his arm with a stiff index finger. He held it out, cover facing Derek. "I'm not willing to think I know better than the Almighty. I know lotsa people don't think much of this Book, but I'm not one of 'em, sir. And I'd be doing it an injustice if I didn't try to make what I've done right."
Derek sagged in his chair again. "Why do you do it, Alori?"
"Beg your pardon, Captain?"
"Why do you hold to that old Book? What makes it worth it?"
A smile broke across Alori's face. Derek hadn't expected that. "When I stopped leaning on myself, God gave me somethin' I could always rely on—Him. When I was a boy, I tried to do things my own way. Think we all try to do that sometimes—some more often than others. But every time I tried it my way, I lost. Didn't matter what I did. I'd get a job, then a few weeks later blow it 'cause I was using on the clock. Get a car and wreck it a month or two later 'cause I was running from public safety. Find a place to stay and get run outta there because I'd spend my rent money on something a lot stronger than water. Even got arrested for selling stolen cars when I was a teenager. But then, while I was cooped up in a jail cell at fifteen years old, God got hold a me. All the things my mama taught me—things I'd ignored—they all came back to me in that little, windowless room. And I said to myself, 'Timothy, you're a rotten sinner. You got put in here because you deserved it.' Then something from this Book came to mind."
Alori sat on the floor, legs crossed. He opened the Bible and handed it to Derek.
The act was foreign. Derek had never seen one of these, much less touched a printed one. Nova read from the Bible, and mentioned it a few times, and he'd caught Sandor reading in the lab once during the Iscandar trip, but everything about the pages in front of him felt strange. There was a large number on the top right of the left page. Fifty-one. A large fifty-two was in the top right of the other page—backwards from the order he was used to, and the words were in English, not Japanese, like he preferred to read. The phrasing seemed old, but elegant somehow. Smaller numbers began many lines and only started over when they reached the next larger number—perhaps a division marker.
Alori tapped the left page. "King David of Israel wrote this a long, long time ago. This is Psalm 51—one of Mama's favorites. She made me read it lotsa times when I was a boy. Didn't do me any good until I realized it was true. 'Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindess: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.'"
"You have this memorized?" Derek said.
"Told ya Mama made me read it a lot." Alori chuckled. "She said this song—'cause that's what it is, a song—set out God's expectations plain and simple. Tells us we've done wrong according to God, that we deserve judgment for it, but that God can wash all that ugliness outta our hearts and give us new, clean ones if we want Him to. Then, He gives us joy—enough to make us want to sing about it. When King David wrote this, he was suffering from something horrible he'd done to someone loyal to him—one of his good generals. The man never did a thing to the king other than obey him, and David got him killed—on purpose. Pretty ugly situation, I'd say—enough to send the king to God with such remorse over what he'd done that he said, 'Deliver me from bloodguiltiness.' Those are pretty strong words, but that's how God sees all our sin—as something serious. I already told you some of my mess-ups, and I'm sure, like everybody, you've got your own."
Several instances came to Derek almost immediately, and he nodded.
Tim's finger tapped a different spot on the page. "'For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.' We've all done wrong—sin the Bible calls it." His finger hopped down. "'Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash men, and I shall be whiter than snow.' That's how sin gets fixed—by being paid for by Someone much better than us. Don't know how much you know about this Book, Captain, but it tells us God sent His Son to shed His blood for everything you and me, and everybody ever did wrong. All we've gotta do is believe. That's what I'm living for, Captain—God's Truth."
Alori's finger slipped half-way down the page. He wasn't even looking at the words. "'Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.' Seems to me you've been suffering a lotta aches and pains in here." He tapped his chest right over his heart. "It's all over your face every time I see you. Can't say as I can speak to all of those wounds, but God can."
Derek let one open palm lay across the pages. The words seemed to look up at him. "I have a… friend… who's told me about this Book a little bit at a time. She always seems to have this sense of purpose about her. I want that because, right now… I don't—" He considered whether he should admit his doubts. "I don't know the reason I'm out here."
"Well…" Alori grinned. "You saved me from living a short life stuck in that dark matter sea. And I heard you saved those marines on Brumis from getting killed. And Marcus tells me you figured out there's something else out here that could be a threat to Earth. Sounds to me there's been plenty of reasons for you to be out here."
"So, why do I feel like that doesn't mean anything? Why doesn't it seem to matter?"
Tim stood and laid a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Because you're trying to do this on your own. You're leaning on yourself. God wants to be part of your life. Only question is, will you let Him?"
Derek looked up from the yellowing pages.
"No matter what," Alori pointed to the Bible, "this Book's gonna stand the test of time. It's gonna stand when the mountains fall and when the world shakes; when the stars are cast down, and the seas rage; when the moon turns to blood, and mankind flees into holes in the ground. This Book's gonna stand. We've already seen some of that, and it hasn't phased this Book one bit. Truth's always gonna weather the storm. Doesn't matter what that storm looks like—whether it's planet bombs from space or us torturing ourselves about decisions we've made in the past. God offers peace to His own, Captain, and He's gonna keep 'em safe, come devils or inner demons. But you gotta let Him have your old heart so He can give you a new clean one."
Tim pointed to another line on the page. "'Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.' So, are you gonna keep on stumbling around on your own, holding on to doubt and fear and unbelief?"
Instead of meeting Alori's eyes, Derek silently read a few lines of the song:
Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.
O Lord, open thou my lips; and my mouth shall shew forth thy praise.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.
He didn't know what hyssop was, or why show was spelled with an E instead of an O, but the meaning struck home. He hadn't known what he was living for because he hadn't known what was true. But he couldn't deny any of what Alori had laid out. It echoed things Nova and others had said.
Moments of conversation with Captain Avatar, with Sandor, with Conroy, with Homer, even with Starsha on the Iscandar trip flooded his mind. Things they'd said that made no sense at the time now seemed irrefutable. Everything he'd seen—encountered—heard—things he couldn't explain now resonated in him like a sounding horn, and it grew louder with every memory that came, ending with Nova's question again, "What are you living for?"
He hadn't had an answer then, but he had one now.
He didn't know how to pray, so, without a word, his eyes fixed on a phrase, "my sin is ever before me," and the weight of self-reliance felt so heavy he couldn't carry it any longer. Shame at his unwillingness to listen to God's truth for so long kept his eyes off of Alori, even though the words on the page were no easier to look at than Alori's face. Further down the page, he found the words that best described his heart's next cry, "wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."
He'd walked with his burden for so long that when it lifted, he felt he could fly, and when the door opened unexpectedly, he didn't even bother to clear the tears blurring his vision, but even through those tears, he recognized his unexpected visitor.
Gladness came as he carefully shut the Bible and handed it back to Alori. "Nova, what are you doing here?"
Alori stepped out of the way, Bible in hand.
"I… I…" The door hissed closed behind her as she studied his face until joy lit her eyes. "You—y-you're—" she choked on the rest of the sentence as she flung her arms around him and cried, "You found Him!"
Derek wanted to answer, but the reply caught in his throat. I have, Nova—and you helped me find Him.
Nova let him go, but the tear streaks on her face remained, as did the stain on his uniform shoulder.
Derek swallowed hard to push back enough emotion to speak. "I… can answer your question now."
"What question?" Nova said.
"You asked me in your last letter what I was living for. I never knew how to answer that until now. I'm living for the Truth, Nova. And I couldn't well do that without accepting it."
The room filled to the brim with gladness almost tangible enough for Derek to scoop it out in handfuls. The confusion of before melted away, replaced by purpose, and in that instant, Derek knew what he had to do. "We're going to follow that new heading until we find something, or until we get a new one. And we're going to find Feldmann."
Nova's face turned grim. "There's something you need to know—something almost unbelievable." She approached the plant beside the door and tapped its topmost leaf. "Silesia said you can tell the story just as well as she did." She seemed to be talking to the… plant?
"This is true." A medium male voice came from the plant.
Derek took a quick step back. Alori too.
"It's all right. This is why Queen Starsha gave you and I these plants," said Nova. "So she could communicate with us through them should she need to. And it seems her connection to our engine core is offline now, thanks to 'Feldmann,' so she can't tell us this herself."
Derek slowly approached the plant, Alori behind him. "W-Who are you?" Derek said.
"My name is Bahn. And I have a story you must hear. It is about the man you know as Dathan Feldmann."
Inside her suite on Iscandar, Starsha sat by her window.
Afternoon sun bathed the hill beyond the courtyards and the Sea of Iscandar in washes of red, orange, and gold as the waves eased in and out in a soothing rhythm.
"Mistress," said Adrianna from her hook. "Bahn and Silesia have recounted the tale of the Usurper to Derek Wildstar, Nova Forrester, and one Timothy Alori, and… Mistress, there are glad tidings they wish you to know."
Starsha sat up. "Have they found Deun?"
"No, Mistress, but this news is joyous indeed. Derek is numbered with Yahweh's children. He has chosen to become a son of the Promise."
Wonder filled her next breath. "I—I shall return, Adrianna." Starsha hurried from the palace and stood atop the hill overlooking the ocean. The melody of the world seemed bursting with praise for its Maker, and a song she'd known since childhood bubbled up within her. Without a care for who might hear, she sang.
"The name of Yahweh I will bless,
And all of heaven is my witness.
Today the Lord my soul will sing
And o'er the worlds, His praises ring.
In Heav'n above, in earth below,
His everlasting mercy doth He show.
Slow to anger is my King,
Gracious long is He and willing
Not to let a single soul
Into eternal nightshade go.
Thou art my Master and my Friend,
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End.
The name of Yahweh I will bless,
And all of Heaven is my witness."
As the last note carried over the sunswept hill, longing filled her—longing to celebrate the redemption of someone else too—someone she feared might never realize the truth until it was too late.
Author's Notes:
This chapter was inspired by the following songs:
"A Heart of Stone" by Ron and Shelly Hamilton, found on the Majesty Music CD, "The Centurion."
"Standing at the Crossroads," by Ron and Shelly Hamilton, found on the Majesty Music CD, "Polecat's Poison."
"My Sin Is Ever Before Me, Lord," by Ron Hamilton, found on the Majesty Music CD, "Wings as Eagles."
"Hallelujah! I Have Found Him," by Clara T. Williams, music by Nancy Hamilton, found on the WILDS CD, "Once to Every Man and Nation."
Episode 16 Notes:
Editing pass complete, 8/26/2022
This episode's title was taken from Isaiah 49:8-13:
"Thus saith the Lord, In an acceptable time have I heard thee, and in a day of salvation have I helped thee: and I will preserve thee, and give thee for a covenant of the people, to establish the earth, to cause to inherit the desolate heritages;
That thou mayest say to the prisoners, Go forth; to them that are in darkness, Shew yourselves. They shall feed in the ways, and their pastures shall be in all high places.
They shall not hunger nor thirst; neither shall the heat nor sun smite them: for he that hath mercy on them shall lead them, even by the springs of water shall he guide them.
And I will make all my mountains a way, and my highways shall be exalted.
Behold, these shall come from far: and, lo, these from the north and from the west; and these from the land of Sinim.
Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and break forth into singing, O mountains: for the Lord hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted."
