Holy Crap. How long has it been? Way too long. And I have no excuse, except a pandemic, new work responsibilities, some health issues, and life in general.
The story isn't done. Wish it was by now. But I've made you wait long enough. Please review and let me know how I'm doing.
I pray you are all safe and healthy.
Chapter Fifteen: Strength and Honor
The fog cleared as Carol and Chekov emerged from the depths of the old city. The rising tide made ascent more of a challenge, but they were able to scale the wall with little difficulty and found themselves within the crowds of cadets, tourists, and residents faster than their earlier trip. Both were paranoid as they walked, checking over their shoulders with each passing block. No one seemed to have heard them, nor did steps follow behind as they made their way out of the catacombs of the old city, but that didn't mean someone couldn't be watching.
Carol and Chekov kept replaying what they heard as they hurried back to Rima's hotel. Partly to keep their memory fresh, but also dissect what they discovered. Whoever this group was, they weren't some rogue entity angry at the Federation. This wasn't just some fringe faction with anarchistic tendencies: they were targeting the captain and Rima's daughter specifically. They had a mission, an objective, and it evolved the captain and Lucy. Now, more than ever, Carol and Chekov needed to find a way to locate Kirk and the child before something terrible happened to them, wherever they were.
On top of trying to locate the Captain and Lucy, there was this plan to bring 'the Vril' to this timeline. Most of it sounded like nonsensical ramblings, but the fact that Marcus and Augments were somehow involved meant it wasn't good, even if Chekov and Carol had no idea what the group was talking about. What are the Vril? An alien species? Weapon of some kind? What does Marcus and Khan have to do with it? What other timeline do they live in?
Added to the confusion was this 'Rising' the group seemed excited for. Chekov had read about cults in the past, partly for classes on ancient religions, and partly from his own strange curiosity with the occult. Much of Russian myths and lore his babushka told dealt with old superstitions, magic, and many of the same themes found within cults. In his limited experience, whatever group they were currently dealing with seemed to fall into that definition.
Last but not least, there was the undefined 'they' the group spoke of. Whoever they were, they were obviously a threat and their previous demise seemed to have allowed the group to now flourish when before it sounded as if they were repressed. But who were 'they?' What happened to them? Why does that group hate them so much? How were they able to stop the group before?
Chekov and Carol went into those tunnels hoping for answers to their questions. Now they were worried they had more questions than answers.
With one last backtrack, and verifying for the sixth time they were not followed, Carol and Chekov knocked on Rima's door. It opened quickly, and they hurried inside, taking the first deep breath since they found the glow under the city.
"What happened?" Rima asked, taking in their pale faces and wide eyes. "What did you find? Did you find what they did with Lucy?"
Even though the room was unnaturally warm, Carol felt the chill still in her spine. With a shiver, she turned to Chekov, the ensign looking like he needed a hot shower, a shot of vodka, or both.
Her throat dry, Carol explained to Rima everything they saw and heard from first seeing the band of renegades appear out of the fog, through the tunnels to the tiki torches and chanting of the crowd. Between herself and Chekov they managed to recreate what was said, and the commotion of the group. Her voice cracked when she mentioned her father, and she wondered what other mess Admiral Marcus was involved with. Even as she described it, Carol could feel the hair rise on her arm, the electrical charge of the group's focus was not something she would forget anytime soon.
Rima just listened quietly, her face blank but a thousand ideas swirled as she connected dots and filled in missing information. She nodded here and there, her thoughts far away. She turned and walked to the settee, plopping down with a sigh as Chekov and Carol sat across from her on the sofa. Rima reached up and rubbed her dry, tired eyes.
"So this group still has my daughter?"
"From what we can gather, yes," Carol answered, sympathy in her gaze.
"And they're using her for experiments?" Her voice cracked, her neck flexing as Rima tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
"Da," Chekov nodded gently. "But for what, we don't know. Zey want ze keptin too, but it sounds like zey don't have him yet."
"What do they have in common?" Carol growled, perplexed as she flopped against the back of the couch, her hands over her face in exasperation. "I can't figure out the connection. I mean short of being a different species, they have nothing in common with each other."
Suddenly a lightbulb went off in Chekov's head.
"Wait, wait, wait," he said hurriedly, his eyes flashing with thought. "Remember zey said zey needed augments, but couldn't find any after Marcus was … er… killed by Khan."
"It's alright, Chekov," Carol placated dryly, waving her hand dismissably. "I'm passed it." Mostly.
"What are you getting at?" Rima asked.
Chekov turned to Rima. "You said your daughter was close to death, but recowered in a day, da? Ze day the archiwe blew up?"
"Yes?"
"Yamayo!" he shouted, slapping his thigh. "I bet you it was Khan who sawed your daughter!"
Carol's eye's widened as the color left Rima's face.
"Of course!" Carol exclaimed sitting up. "That's why they want Kirk and Lucy. They can't find the augments, so they're looking for the next best thing."
"Aye, but what do zey want with ze augments to begin with?"
"And why would Khan help you?" Carol turned to Rima. "Not to sound offensive, but it's not like you or your husband were high ranking. And from what we know of Khan, he wasn't magnanimous without a reason."
Rima glanced away, chewing her bottom lip indecisively.
"What did you do for Section 31?" Chekov asked, his gaze narrowing slightly. "In detail."
Rima sighed, her shoulders squaring as she nodded her head as if she just came to a decision.
"I told you that my specialization is quantum mechanics around black holes. What I didn't tell you was that my husband was an engineer. He and I were on the team tasked with the development of a temporal displacement weapon for Section 31. We were working on the theory that a miniature black hole could be created that would be able to send someone backwards through time to prevent an attack before it occurred. My colleagues and I focused on the theoretical side, he was the engineer designing the weapon."
"I've heard of zis theory," Chekov said, unsurprised by what he was hearing. From his experience over the last few years, anything was possible. "Mr. Spock spoke about it when we were trying to get Charlie and her friends home. At ze time, we thought it was just zat: theories. Zhat one could go back and get extinct flora for medicine, or prewent a massacre, or a disease."
"Exactly. There was my husband and I, Dr. Spear, and a few others. We knew the risks, but felt the reward outweighed the risk."
"How successful were you?" Carol wanted to force it all out, to grab Rima and shake everything she could from her. She was scared by what she had learned, and what it meant. She was scared of what happened to the crew, and Rima's daughter. She was scared what little she knew about her father and his work. In the end, she wasn't sure how she, Chekov, and Rima would solve all the problems they were unmasking. She needed the rest of her crew.
Rima sighed, reaching up to rub her forehead. "We were getting close, but something spooked Dr. Spear and he headed off into the Beta quadrant. Then the Boradis incidence happened soon after. Then Lucy got sick. We were still working, but I had to step back to take care of her. By that point, it was mostly down to Tom and his team to assemble and begin the testing." Rima trailed off, tears forming and slowly running down her cheeks.
Chekov and Carol shared a glance. "Were ze tests successful? How many did zey do?"
Rima took a breath, trying to gather herself. "When I got the information to track the isotope, my contact told me that the day they were to start the tests was the day that the archive was destroyed. And it was my husband who initiated the blast. He—he did it, and now I know why. He probably did it to save our daughter. Because Khan had him do it."
Rima fell into her hands, her sobs wracking her slender body as she finally lost the tendrils of control she'd woven since Lucy was pulled from her arms. Carol was immediately at her side, wrapping an arm around her as Chekov awkwardly looked for tissues. He handed them to Rima and sat back on the couch, his shoulders hunched while he rubbed his thighs back and forth. Carol rubbed her back, whispering soothing words as the woman got herself back under control.
Sniffling, Rima said, "I'm sorry. I haven't been sleeping well. I lost my husband, I can't lose my daughter too."
"It's alright," Carol soothed, handing the tissues to her. "We're all strung pretty tight. But I have faith that Kirk and the rest of the crew are doing everything in their power to find Lucy. I know they are, I can feel it."
"Da," Chekov added. "Ze Keptin will find her. You can be assured of zat."
"I know." Rima ran the tissues under her eyes and blew her nose. "Okay," she added, putting the walls she had back into place, one broken piece at a time. "There is something else I learned from my contact while you were out." Rima stood and grabbed her PADD and a display panel, her momentary lapse of emotion buried to be reexamined at a later, solo date. "When Marcus died, the work was supposed to have stopped."
"Da, I remember the hearings," Chekov nodded. "Mr. Spock had to go since ze Keptin was still recowering. Didn't zey pause all actiwe Section 31 missions?"
"That's what I heard too," Carol added. "I knew my father was dealing with classified missions, but I never knew about Section 31. Most of his contacts I knew went underground or were called to testify after he died. I haven't heard anything since then."
With deft keystrokes, she pulled up several schematics and emails with recent dates.
"That's the problem. They haven't. Starfleet has continued the work secretly to prepare for a war against the Klingons or Romulans. Notwithstanding your crew ending the conflicts peacefully. It's almost like they are itching for a fight."
Carol and Chekov both sat stunned, reading the words on the screen without being able to understand them. There was even a list of all the new projects that had started since the Vengeance incident, with a curious symbol in the coding on the side of the report.
"Who knows about this?" Carol asked breathless. She turned to Chekov. "Do you think Jemison knows?"
Chekov's eyes narrowed the more he read. "I don't know. I can't read her. Maybe? She ordered me to tell her if I came across anything like zis. But if she is inwolwed—"
"I know," Carol cut off. "How can we trust her? How can we trust any of them?"
"There's more," Rima pulled up a few files. "I can't seem to get past this. It's like gibberish." There were ruins, symbols, and other coding that was unfamiliar to them, plus several of the folders seemed to be locked. While the contact provided the information, they forgot the key.
"May I see?" Chekov asked. Rima handed him the PADD. With fingers flying across the tablet, his lip sticking out between his teeth, Chekov concentrated on cracking the codes in front of him.
"Ha, got it," he smiled as the folders opened up a few minutes later, hundreds of images and documents piling out.
"Woah," Carol exclaimed, the blue of the screen reflecting across her face.
"Chert voz'mi," Chekov swore after a few minutes of deep concentration.
"What is it?" Carol asked.
"I don't understand," Chekov said, his brow furrowed as he tried to analyze the information in front of him. "It says 'black sun'. But how can a sun be black?"
"What do you mean?" Rima asked.
With a gesture, Chekov slid PADD over to her. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, Rima read what Chekov had found. With a start, her eyes widened.
"They're not talking about a sun that is black," Rima said. "They're talking about the 'Black Sun'. It's the name of the group that attacked us. Look." She pointed out some of the still images, the white masks and with the black eclipses on the foreheads at the attack. Then another of the radial sin rune. It was the same as the ruin they found within the code of the report list.
"Do you know what this means?" Carol asked aloud.
"The Black Sun have infiltrated Starfleet to possibly the highest ranking members," Rima answered. "But who are involved, and who are innocent is going to be tricky to unravel."
"Zen, we better get to work," Chekov challenged.
"I do not yet understand how exactly you are able to do so, but those in your bloodline seem to have extraordinary powers and skills that are uncommon in most of humanity.
"And I believe it will be you to get us back."
Charlie sat in the study of that small cottage in Scotland, a thousand thoughts buzzing through her mind as she replayed the conversation with Spock's brother earlier in the night.
All she could do was sit there stunned on the old couch, the weight of a thousand generations crushing her shoulders. Kirk tried to argue and reason with the Vulcan that there was no way it would all fall on Charlie to get them home; a women from an alternative 21st century. The men and women of his crew had two hundred years extra worth of math and engineering and that they would always do it as a team.
Sybok had just shrugged with a smirk, a bizarre reaction for a normal stoic race, grabbed a book and left.
"That Vulcan is insane," Jim grumbled, passing a hand through his hair while he leaned against the back of the couch. "To put all that on you. He doesn't know what he's talking about."
Charlie just shrugged, rolling her eyes heavenward as she fell back with a sigh onto Kirk. "Honestly, Jim, it all keeps coming back to me," she mumbled, reaching up to rub her tired eyes. "To my family. At this point, should I even be surprised? All I know is we're missing something, I just don't know what it is." Her arm flopped back next to her.
They spent an hour or so hashing out any and all scenarios they could think of. But short of a miracle discovery of Red Matter, stabilized for travel, they didn't know how to get themselves back to their universe in the 23rd century.
Jim, his eyes red from exhaustion and whatever was inside him trying to rise with his frustration, headed to bed, leaving Charlie alone with the fire and her thoughts.
Why did it have to fall to her? Why did everything always land on her shoulders? Since being dragged to the 23rd century, she's dodged one crazy problem after another as they spiraled ever closer until the universe would eventually consume her.
They had learned a great deal the last few weeks. The Black Sun, Lucy, Jim, Sybok. Needing augmented blood. Something about her blood. But like spokes on a wheel, they all connected to central point yet unknown. And it was that central point that frustrated Charlie. What was she missing?
The clock on the mantel struck midnight when a pounding was heard on the front door. Jumping from the unexpected intrusion, Charlie leaped to her feet and headed to the front of the cottage, Scotty and Sulu blurrily peering through the crack in their door.
"I got it," she whispered, grabbing the phaser from the holster by the door.
It was too dark to see who came to their remote location so late at night. With her heart in her throat, she grabbed the thick metal door handle, the lever a bit loose as she pushed to unlatch the lock.
Throwing open the door, she drew her phaser up against the figure on the other side. The rain came down in sheets, cascading over the tall, imposing figure standing in the doorway. Their wet hood was pulled low over their head, obscuring their face.
"Who are you?" Charlie barked. "Show yourself."
Slowly, they reached up a dropped their hood, the breath catching in her throat for another reason.
"Dad? You're alive!"
Her father stood in front of her. He was still tall and erect in his stance, but his face was sunken from the last time she saw him. Bags hung under dark eyes, and wrinkles were more pronounced. But it was still her father, living and breathing in front of her.
"Yes, now put that thing down. I didn't travel all this way to stand out in the Scottish wet and cold, and be assaulted on the doorstep."
Stunned, she dropped the phaser and turned to the side, her father stomping into the foyer and shedding his wet jacket.
"Why didn't you tell me you were alive? Or Rachel? Or Mom?"
"It was advantageous to not let the lack of my demise known," he said, glancing around at the space. His bald head almost brushed the ceiling, the small cottage made smaller by his presence. He turned to the cracked bedroom door, his glare forcing it to snap shut.
"You could have let me know at least." She tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone, but when speaking to her father it was almost innate.
"We weren't sure if your communications were being hacked. It was for your protection as much as mine." Surveying the rest of the shack, he turned to his daughter. "Now I don't have a lot of time, I have to get back tonight. Is there somewhere we can talk?"
Charlie nodded. Shutting the door, she led Robert back to the study, the warm glow of the fire chasing out the chill brough in by the re-emergence of her father.
Charlie sat in the rust colored, wingback chair closest to the fire, its large back giving her the support she lost after opening the door to a ghost. Her father sat across from her, his large frame taking up more than half of the green loveseat.
"So what did you want to say?" she asked after a few tense moments of silence save the crackling fire.
Robert glanced about the room, taking in the organized chaos. Like sizing up for a battle, he sighed, running his hand over his head in a rare display of anxiety.
"I came to warn you."
Charlie scowled. "Warn me about what?"
He sighed again, his leg bouncing. "There are those who chase us, who mean to do us harm."
"I already know about the Black Sun, Dad," Charlie interrupted. "I've had a few run ins with them besides Cheyenne Mountain. One put a bullet in my shoulder." She reached up and pulled the collar of her shirt down, the red scar stark against the paleness of her skin. Robert had the decency to appeared troubled as Charlie let the fabric snap back into place. "Now, why did Mom lie to me?"
"She didn't lie to you, Charlotte."
"Omit then," Charlie snapped.
Robert's dark gaze narrowed. "There is a lot more going on behind the scenes than you realize. Your mother's team is but a small fraction we have tracking rogue groups across this planet, who want nothing more than to steal the work we are doing. The notion of my death has allowed us an advantage we didn't have before. No one could know. Not even you."
Charlie glowered. A simple code could have eased the pain in her heart at the thought that her father was dead. Even through all their fights, the ugly words said, she would have liked to have known he continued on this Earth. But her time at the Academy tempered some of her resentment. She knew that there were going to be instances where Jim could not tell her about a mission, and visa versa. Within the confines of military organizations, not everyone gets to know everything.
Charlie exhaled, reaching up to brush the hair off her face. "Ok, fine. I understand. So why did you come now?"
"Your mother's asset got word to us that you retrieved a child from the time you left. That the Black Sun were using her, and trying to get to that captain," Charlie tried not to grin at the deep scowl on her father's face at the mere thought of Jim. "There's some things you need to know, that we haven't told you. Things that I believe, may answer the questions you've had."
Robert paused, again his gaze roaming the room to everything but his daughter. Charlie's back was ramrod straight, her stare poignant as she waited for him to continue.
"You know the history of our family," he muttered, his attention on a few old maps on the walls. "The sacrifices we have made through the centuries. We have been rulers, king makers, generals. We have carved out a legacy that remains strong to this day in the highest echelons of governments."
"I know all this, Dad." Charlie was confused. These were the stories she grew up with as a child, what every Noland quickly knew by heart.
"Yes, but what you have never been told is that this power was gifted to us a long time ago, over two hundred generations we have carried this secret."
He took a breath, his gaze finally locking onto Charlie's.
"We are descended from beings of another universe. It's what has given our family their strength and cunning. What has driven us for centuries; to protect our world and others from the Vril. We are the protectors."
Charlie sat there, the fire crackling and the rain hitting the windows in soft patters. The minutes lengthened.
"I'm sorry. What?"
For the first time in her life, Robert Noland looked unsure of himself. "We are the descendants of a race not of our solar system tasked with the protection of it," he tried again. "The Vril also came to this world and we are sworn to protect Earth against them."
Charlie bit her tongue, so many expletives she wanted to spew. "So you came all this way. . . to tell me a fairytale?"
"This is no fairytale, Charlotte," Robert barked. "This is serious. And it's true, every word I'm saying."
Charlie blinked. The only reason she hadn't immediately written her father off was because she had heard the same words from her mother. "Okay. Say I follow you with this. Not saying I believe you yet. Who, or what, are the Vril? Mom mentioned them back at Cheyanne Mountain, but I can't find anything on them."
"They are a beings not of this plane." Charlie snorted, crossing her arms across her chest as she fell back against the chair, shaking her head as she turned to the fire. "They encourage mayhem and destruction, like a plague they consume until nothing is left. They are the omega to the alpha, the yin to the yang. Where they go, chaos follows. That is why we were given this gift. Each generation has kept the vigil. Your grandfather did until his death the year after you were born. Then it was to pass to you once you reached the proper age."
Her eyes snapped back to her fathers. "Me? Why me?"
He father paused, his dark gaze boring into her own. "Honestly, I don't know," he sighed. "When your mother learned she was pregnant with you, your grandfather said they had decided you were to continue the vigil."
"They? who are they?"
"Their true name can't be pronounced by our tongue. They asked us to call them our 'Brethren' so the name stuck."
Charlie jumped up and started pacing in front of the fire. "Dad, this sounds like . . . like a fantasy. Like some kind of Dan Brown novel that got slapped with Lord of the Rings. This can't be real."
"There have always been forces we don't understand; that we can't control," Robert explained patiently. "Science has explained most, but there are still things you just have to trust."
"Trust," Charlie scoffed. "So does this mean we aren't even . . . human?"
"Oh no, we're still as human as those that walk our streets. But like Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens 10,000 years ago, our bloodlines joined with the Brethren. Less than one percent of our DNA is alien, but that amount can keep the Vril locked away for eternity. "
"Well why not face them, destroy them for good?"
"That is not our decision. Our oath is to defend and keep the vigil for those who came before until the time comes when they are recalled."
Charlie paused. "Recalled? From where?"
"Little is known of the Brethren and the Vril other than they are fourth dimensional beings. Our laws mean nothing to them. Our physics means nothing to them. The 4th dimension pulls at our subconscious, and with the Brethren DNA woven into our own, we can connect and control the Vril just as they can to those without. But there is a force greater than they are, and when the day comes, they will face judgement. Until then we guard against their attacks, we keep them from destroying our world and the others in our galaxy. The power of our blood comes from that oath of protection. And remember, with great power comes—"
"Great responsibility. Really? You're going to feed me that Spiderman bullshit?"
Charlie was done. It was too much, too many things crushing down on her shoulders to add more. This was too insane, too farfetched. She didn't get bit by a radio-active spider, nor did she create an iron suit or be fed gamma radiation. She was just born, and for the longest time, thought she was normal. No, she told herself. She is normal.
"If you had taken your responsibilities more seriously, listened to your mother and I, I wouldn't have to."
Charlie's eyes narrowed, her dark gaze snapping to those so much like her own, the fire flashing in both. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"This was supposed to be you!" Robert shouted, jumping to his feet, his finger pointed at his daughter. Finally. Finally, he could tell her the truth. "Everything I'm saying. You were supposed to take on this responsibility; this was your destiny, willed by the gods. Bryan was already rising in the ranks to be the next four star general since your great-grandfather, and Rachel was looking at an important career in intelligence that could give her the Pentagon. It was your duty to protect this world, a greater calling than either of your siblings, but you just couldn't settle down. You couldn't focus on anything but your own selfish wants instead of this family. Otherwise we wouldn't be here, would we?"
"No." she squared off against her father, the coffee table the only item separating the two. "Absolutely not. You are not going to blame me for this, for what's happening. Not when you decided to just now drop this whole prophecy that I'm supposed to save the world!"
"I thought I taught you ownership. To know when you're wrong."
"I've always been wrong to you."
"Because you never listen, Charlotte!"
"Well if you had been more of a dad and less of an officer maybe I would have been more willing to listen! But you didn't care—"
"Now see here—"
"—to talk to me, to hear what I had to say—"
"That's enough—"
"No! It's never enough with you is it?"
"I will not be spoken to like this, Charlotte Elizabeth."
"Well too damn bad, Colonel, because guess what? I'm not a little girl anymore, too afraid of the dark and my father's looming shadow. Did you know that? You terrified me, as a child. I was never good enough; could never be good enough for you. But you don't scare me anymore and I don't care what you think about me. I don't know why I even came home. Bet you were so happy to get rid of your worst disappointment."
"Is that what you think you are?"
"Oh I don't know, the last time you and I had more than two words between us you told me to get the hell out and never come back. And now you drop that I was supposed to take on this monumental, historical calling of our family? Fuck that. I found my true family. Good riddance too. God, I can deal with this bullshit anymore!" Charlie turned heading for the door, ready to be done with her father for the rest of her life.
"That's all you've ever been good at! Walking away."
She spun, her fists clenching by the accusation.
"No, Dad, I never walked away. You opened the door and shoved me out. Why did you never tell me about this? Why didn't you let me know this was my "expected" destiny!"
"You were too young—"
"Bullshit! You wanted the power for yourself," she accused, her finger pointed at him. "You always have."
"That's a lie and you know it."
"Is it? How am I lying?" she practically screamed, her arms thrown wide. "All you talked about was the next promotion, the next opportunity. How my choices would reflect on you and your career. How each decision I made reflected on the family like we were all tied together.
"Well guess what, I found a power for myself, and a family that actually cares about what I want and not what's expected. They believed in me first, before any expectations were required, and guess what, Dad? I kicked ass and took names. You don't know half of the shit I went through, what I overcame to be who I am today. I'm so much stronger now, no thanks to you."
"What's going on?" Kirk asked, surveying the red faces of father and daughter as they stood toe to toe in the library. Their shouting was enough to wake the house, and Kirk was the only one brave enough to take on two angry Nolands.
She expected her father to shout back, to puff up and continue the row. Instead, the air was let out of his lungs in a giant whoosh of deflation.
"You are strong. Stronger than I or your mother could have made you."
"That's right, Dad. I figured it out myself, pulled myself up by my own bootstraps and—"
"Charlie, I think that's enough." Jim ordered, his captain's voice strong.
"No, Jim, I finally want him to understand—"
"I said, that's enough."
Charlie glared at Jim, turning back to her defeated father. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the perfect daughter like Rachel. Nothing's going to change the things that you've said to me, the hurt you caused me, and at this moment in time, nothing's going to make this right. It hurt that all I could ever catch was your disapproval. You can't change that. Do you think I wasted my time doing the things I wanted to do? What I decided I was destined to do?"
"You're right."
In her whole life, Charlie never heard those words from her father directed at her. "I pushed you harder, kept you at arm's length because I knew that what we were going to ask you to do would require resilience. I just didn't see how my actions would affect you. You aren't like the rest of us, never have been. You've always been stronger, more in tune to what's around you. Your mother and I had to rely on training, on discipline. For you it was innate, and I hated that it was easy for you. So I pushed you harder, wanted you to break so then the next could be chosen."
"Did you ever love me?" Charlie asked, unwilling to let the tears in her eyes fall.
"From the moment I heard your heartbeat," Robert admitted, his gaze sincere. "And I hated you, because this was your destiny and I couldn't stop it."
Charlie didn't know what to say. She was at a loss for words by her father's confession. There was so much—too much. She was suffocating. The room was too dark, the air too stuffy, she was freezing and on fire at the same time.
"Why are you telling her now?" Jim said, seeing the panic.
"You're in this too," Robert admitting, pulling his shoulders back and standing tall again after seemingly to wilt. "I don't know how much you heard."
"Ah, most of it," Jim sheepishly reached up to rub his neck. "You weren't exactly quiet."
"Then you should know it wasn't just our family. There were others. Campbells, MacDonalds, Frasers . . . Kirks. From what I know about you, you fit right in. Self-sacrificing, brave, kind-hearted. The Brethren looked into our DNA for those traits. Had you never felt compelled to come here?"
Charlie and Jim caught the other's surprise glance.
"Why would I feel compelled to come here?" he asked slowly.
Robert sat again. "This is the land of your ancestors, as it is for ours. Something about this place draws us here as a renewal. A place to heal and recharge. It's also where the Brethren first appeared. Your family was the first to interact with them. That's where your motto comes from."
Jim blinked, having never heard these stories from his grandparents or his mother. "Motto?"
"Optimum Quod Primum: What is best is first. Arrogant sons of bitches."
"Hold on," Charlie interrupted. "Are you saying Jim is like us?"
"I don't have proof," Robert admitted with a shrug. "But I wouldn't be surprised. He's a Kirk. But their roles were different from our family's. They were the messengers, the ones to speak with the Brethren since they were the first to interact with them. We were tasked to keep the vigil, to know where the Vril were at all times, and to stop them should they try to control humanity."
Charlie turned to Jim. "And I know you probably know nothing about this like me."
Jim's brows were lowered in a scowl. "Can't say that I did."
"Not all were as dedicated to the cause," Robert acknowledged. "While the Brethren united us for a while, the clans still warred with each other. And then after Culloden, and the ending of the highland ways, many of our traditions were lost. It was only because our family had already immigrated to the New World were we able to keep the traditions alive.
"Until, like you said, our line dies in the future."
"OK, hypothetically, let's say I believe this madness," Charlie said hesitantly. "Why would our line dying out cause a problem? Because we couldn't keep an eye on the Vril?"
"It's not just keeping a watch. The power of our blood balances the universe and keeps them in check. They can neither gain strength nor fade away, held forever in equilibrium. But that equilibrium has been shattered."
"So what do we do?" Jim asked.
"Find a way to rebalance the universe."
Charlie snorted, "Oh yeah, okay, super easy. And how do you suppose we do that?"
Robert sighed. "That I cannot answer, because we have never faced something like this since the first Brethren brought us this mission."
"Then let's ask them," Jim said, leaning onto the back of the rust colored chair. "You say my ancestry are the messengers. Great, how do I contact them?"
Robert had the decency to look a bit sheepish. "Well here's the thing. We haven't been able to speak directly to them since Culloden."
Charlie and Jim just blinked at her father.
"That was 1745," Charlie noted. "You mean you've been following this fairytale since 1745!" Charlie shouted.
"It's not a fairytale, Charlotte," Robert scolded. "We know they are here. Can you not feel the power? Especially when we are close to the Vril or other members of the Brethren we can feel them. Sometimes we can even communicate, although only the strongest of us have been able to outside of the Kirks. Your grandfather said they chose you, but he never said how they told him. They have just not answered us since the war. We don't know why."
Charlie and Jim caught each other's eye. They had felt it. At the ceremony. In London. Down in the room where they saved Lucy. Charlie most of all, when the voices came, garbled as they all spoke at once. Was that the Vril? Or the Brethren?
"So if no one knows about the Vril in the future, then there's no way to keep them in check." The words felt weird coming out of her mouth, like she was living a fantasy instead of her life.
"Correct," Robert nodded. "Which is why you have to go back, why I came here. To warn you, to advise you, and give you the best chance at righting the wrong of our family. You should have been told earlier and maybe a bit of it was my own pride. You are the strongest to come from our line for as long as we have records. Your grandfather knew it when he named you after the first of our line to be granted this gift, Charles William Noland. You are free, uninhibited, strong. You have the power to do what we cannot, restore balance. We knew it was your destiny to protect this world and others from the Vril Society.
"And I did not give you the opportunity to be that. I know that now."
"I will repeat," Jim tried again. "When we get back to our home," the emphasis was not lost on Charlie's father, "how are we supposed to do rebalance the universe? Recite some chants, repeat mantras, clear our chakras? How?"
Robert reached up to rub his tired eyes. With a sigh, he said, "I went back through all the ancient texts I could find from the Campbells. They were the recorders," he added. "All I found was a small passaged that said the only way was through a joining. I don't know what that means, and there was no specifics. Just that 'through the joining together, out of blood and hope, can the true test be fulfilled'."
"Well we have everything else," Charlie derided, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "Why not add some prophecy to the mix. Always wanted to be in Harry Potter."
Robert shook his head. "Always the jokes with you."
"And how else am I supposed to take this, Dad?" Charlie almost laughed. "You've said nothing about this. Not once in my whole life. You and Mom taught me about science, and reasoning, and data through experimentation. I hate to quote the Vulcan, but all of this is illogical. You are handing me a fantasy and wanting me to just take it without question. What daughter of an engineer and an intelligence officer would I be if I did?"
Robert smirked. "No, you are right. You're just going to have to trust me. You have to trust yourself."
"Give me one good reason why I should trust you with our history?" Charlie's eyes flashed in challenge.
Robert cleared his throat and stood up, his size so imposing in such a small room. He handed Jim a piece of paper, the page filled with symbols. "I spoke with several colleagues through the force, and Peggy ran it through a few of her back channels. While I know we do not have the same skills, or training as your chief engineer, or even that alien fellow, we at least have the rudimentary calculation down to send you back." He turned to Charlie. "I'm willing let you leave Charlie. It's killing your mother and sister. And it's killing me too. But cor unum. If you can trust nothing else about me, trust that."
Charlie blinked at her dad. He had never used her nickname before. And he had never backed down from a challenge until then.
He turned to leave before he paused. With a deep breath, Robert spun and grabbed his daughter, pulling her into his arms. His hand rested in her curls as the other crushed her into his barreled chest. She stood ridged a moment, before her thin arms wrapped around his torse, the warm of her father bringing tears to her eyes she had worked hard to suppress.
A moment later he grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm's length, his dark eyes so like hers scanning her from the top of her head to her toes, as if imprinting her as she stood into his memory. With a quick nod of his head, Robert spun, grabbing his jacket as he opened the door. With one last glance back at his daughter he said, "Cor unum, via una, Charlie. Your mother and I love you no matter what time you're in. Never forget that. History has its eyes on you."
Then he was gone.