Chapter Chapter Twenty-Four: Sometimes You Have to Go Along to Get Along

Imogene’s mood had not changed since she met the Countess Pel’Tierre, and she was not alone in the category of making silent reflections. Sharon was quiet and removed from any function that did not explicitly demand her attention or presence. The acclimation process required of all newcomers to Five Pointes had certainly not helped either of them. The boys had been stunned and simply inserted. Getting the drop on Sharon, however, was not so simple a task and therefore things were explained to the girls before they were taken to the Med Center. Rannis found himself confirmed in his assumptions; doing was ever so much better than telling and doing.

As for Cullen and Javier, Five Pointes and Undertown were dreams they had not dared to entertain even in the recesses of their minds. The pain of the medical procedures had only substantiated their fantasies. It was as if every science-fiction television show, movie, cartoon and comic book they had ever experienced had been taken out of their memories and built, brick by brick, and someone had named it Five Pointes. They had not had the patience to simply read and review files on Rannis’ database, they had to climb aboard Dreamchaser and see it for themselves.

“This is not good,” Rannis said as he signed the delivery clipboard, verifying he had received every item he had ordered. “I should have seen this coming, hmmm. Too busy worrying about the damn pillows!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Wilma said as she picked up another crate. “You’ve had your hands full the last few days. You’ve been stripping , working on blast boards, upgrading the security around here, making and drilling the kids on PEP applications. I’m surprised you haven’t dropped from fatigue.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rannis huffed. “We are safer here, but Genie and Sharon are lost. And it won’t be too much longer before they start bringing down the others.”

“They aren’t lost, Ran,” Wilma argued. “They’re children! Despite what they’ve been able to achieve, they are still girls. In their world, they aren’t ready at this age to begin making life decisions. They have counselors in their schools to guide them for that.”

“So, we are in agreement, hmmm?” Rannis said as he walked away. “For this failure is a product of my guidance.”

Wilma sighed, silently kicking herself for not seeing that bend in the road. Talking to the children was one thing, but Rannis’ mind was sharp and aged. He did not strike her as a man who leapt at the chance to add to his responsibilities. But from what she had gathered from talking to Wayne and Gordon, Rannis had yet to hesitate. He had assumed responsibility for these strangers and had provided for them. While it was easy to explain why he would do such a thing for Imogene, Rannis could have easily stipulated that he could only aid the Shard, and refused the others. But they had been made to feel at home as well, and now their guardian was kicking himself for aspects of Five Pointes that were utterly outside his district of control.

“

,” Oranzio projected before he appeared in front of Wilma. Per usual, his teleportation was clean and precise. His approach was quick but careful. He must have been able to perceive the conflict and tension within her immediate area… and perhaps within Wilma herself. “Think of what Mistress Pani would say of her favorite pupil.”

“You should be careful, brother,” Wilma smiled as she stepped up and embraced the tall, dark man who returned her affection. “Your envy will shatter your balance.”

“But I am told, by the best of Ji-Ton Scholars, that such imperfections are necessary for balance to ever be achieved.”

“As always, an over-generalization of my writings,” Wilma giggled. “But thank you for your mirth. My brother always puts a smile in my heart.”

“Someone has to,” Oranzio said as he looked around the yard. He was not much taller than his friend and colleague, but it was clear they walked different paths. His dark brown skin always served as a pleasing contrast to his flowing white robes. He allowed his thick, black hair to grow and kept it in a ponytail which reached his lower back. “When you are distracted, the sun does not shine in the way it should. So what I do is for a very great cause.”

“I am sure you will be made First Patron for you efforts, Oranzio,” Wilma laughed. “But I did not know matters of cosmic importance could interrupt your inner trek.”

“Rest assured, they seldom do,” Oranzio smiled, continuing to feign arrogance. Wilma laughed as she touched the side of his face and caressed the brown skin stretched over shaped bone and muscle. He did not look as aged as she was, even though he was older. His path kept aging more in check, while it seemed the road she walked shortened her time among the living.

But as her hand rubbed his skin and green eyes looked into his brown pools, there was more than the metaphysical embrace of two souls joined by will and love. There was a stillness around Oranzio which penetrated deeply into his inner being, but that inner world was no longer bound to remain unseen or unfelt. It had grown since last they spoke. And Wilma found she could not find its true measure… she could feel his power, and the sensation removed her smile as her eyes and mouth gaped wide. As she looked up at him in shock, he smiled down on her with comfort and ease.

“Ton-Ji?” she whispered.

“Yes, Sadaga, I completed the Second Order Ventures,” Oranzio confirmed and Wilma stepped back and lowered her eyes and head. Her knees started to bend, but Oranzio’s hands took hold of her shoulders and kept her knees from the ground. “You are a Scholar of the Second Order!”

“Scholars are not Masters,” she said softly and quickly as she stood on her own feet.

“And my sister will never kneel to me!” Oranzio demanded. “How could I have ever become a Ton-Ji without the finest Scholar of my age instructing me? Please, Sadaga, stand and look upon your brother!”

“Don’t you mean Master?”

“I said what I meant, Sadaga,” Oranzio said as he finally released her shoulders. Wilma smiled and looked on his face again. Oranzio took her hand and placed it on his face. She chuckled and shook her head.

“Very well…

… congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Oranzio said, smiling brightly and giving his sister a forward bow. “But I did not come to flaunt my accolades… this time. I have news from Pani herself.” Oranzio held up a scroll case and extended it toward Wilma who quickly took it and just as quickly stuffed it back into his hand. “I thought as much,” he said as he opened the case and removed the parchment. He unrolled it and started to read… silently.

“You are incorrigible!” Wilma shouted as she kicked at the man.

Oranzio had at one time been her peer and they had trained together under the guidance of Grandmistress Pani, quickly demonstrating they were going to be exceptional. But at the calling of the inner trek, Sadaga had chosen to become a Scholar, while Oranzio wished to become a Master. While their paths divided, Oranzio made every effort to maintain his close connection with Sadaga, and she saw no reason why she should not return the intention. While Armonyeans took great pride in their balance and harmony, it was still rare to see a Master mix company with anyone outside their personal endeavor, and Oranzio’s relationship with Sadaga had cost him several opportunities for advancement.

“You’re getting better with those kicks,” he said, smiling, and Wilma gasped, though she was not alone in her amazement of Oranzio’s ability. Gordon looked on as he saw a full-grown man standing on Wilma’s extended leg. Wilma looked up at him and realized that she could barely feel him standing on her leg. “There’s a lot more power to them than before.”

“I had a good teacher,” Wilma said, quickly lowering her leg and delivering a turning back kick. Oranzio stepped on top of her ankle again, but kept moving forward and flipped over Wilma, landing four meters from her and looking at Gordon.

“That was awesome!” Gordon exclaimed.

“This must be the fighter you spoke of,” Oranzio said as Wilma realized her target had moved out of her attack range. “I can see why you would wish to petition for permission to train him. Hello, young man, I am Oranzio, Sadaga’s life-brother.”

“Sadaga?” Gordon asked. “I thought your name was Wilma.”

“Wilma?” Oranzio asked. Wilma was walking toward Gordon as well, but stopped and looked at Gordon before looking at Oranzio who was folding his arms. “Does this mean I should tell Dana that his name is Fred?”

“You will do no such thing! Dana and I are a personal matter, Master!” she said as she walked over to Gordon. “Listen to me, my fighter. I took the name Wilma for when I visited your side of the Nexus. My real name is Sadaga.

“And would you please just read what Pani’s decision was!” Wilma snapped at Oranzio, whose arms were still folded. His eyebrows shot up before he nodded.

“You have permission to teach him,” Oranzio answered as he looked back at Gordon. He was obviously a child from the other side of the Nexus. He had such power in him and not the slightest awareness of it.

“She gave me permission?” she asked, standing and facing her brother.

“No, she did not,” Oranzio answered, he had hoped his sister would be too happy with the news to wonder about the particulars. “Her expressed orders were simple. She asked me to come out and assess both you and the boy. She would support my decision whatever it may be.”

“So, she made this decision?” Wilma asked.

“You take offense?” Oranzio asked.

“You are not my Master.”

“A moment ago you were ready to bow to me, and now you question whether I am of station enough to judge this situation.” Wilma did not have a response. She closed her eyes, knowing she had offended not only a Master, but her brother and friend. “I spoke in error before, sister,” Oranzio continued, “… you do not distracted at all. You distracted!

“I will, however, maintain my decision. While I might hold to a small notion that Sadaga needs to focus on herself, I will not question her station as a Scholar of the Second Order. You may indeed instruct the young man, and you will report to me at least once per season.

“The best of skill and sight to you, lad,” Oranzio said, giving the young man a low bow. “I will place the name of Gordon Schultz on my personal list and you may come and visit me whenever you wish.”

“Thank you,” Gordon said, his eyes darting between the man and Wilma. Oranzio smiled and teleported. “Does everyone have funky-itis?” Gordon asked.

“It would appear so,” Wilma sighed as she sat on the ground. “Are you ready to go to school?”

“Not yet,” Gordon answered. “I was looking for Milania.”

“I have not yet seen her this morning, Gordon,” Wilma answered and Gordon quickly ran off in his search. Wilma put her face in her hands and sighed. She knew Oranzio had already forgiven her faux pas. It would take a little more time before she would forgive herself.

“

,” she thought, “

.” Wilma stood up and started to resume her day when she recalled her rendezvous beneath the .

“Oh, my brother, we will need to speak again and soon. As Master of the Second Order, you have access to things Scholars are denied, and I have a few Negatroix acquaintances who are most interested in some of those secrets!”

She lifted her face up from her hands and looked around. Nothing had changed. They were still surrounded by water and gray skies. It was mid-afternoon and she longed for the coming of night. At least then she could sleep. As her black hair blew into her face, Quiledel fought against the urge to regurgitate again.

“How much longer?” she barked as she turned toward Meeks. “Are these not the correct coordinates?”

“We’re sitting pretty much near the center of the Bermuda Triangle. Can’t get too much closer without an ‘X’ being drawn on the water,” Meeks replied before succumbing to his urge to be sick. Quiledel glared at Planax who seemed unaffected by the rolling waters.

“We need to engage the lift jets,” she said as she turned toward the bridge of the craft.

“They will kick up too much water,” Planax said as he lowered his binoculars. “… and we will be detected by the military vehicle that is in this sector with us.”

“Then we will destroy said vehicle.”

“And not only will we be detected,” Planax said, “we will then be fired upon. While we hold a clear advantage over the technology on this side of the Nexus, we cannot indefinitely withstand attacks from their weapons. We will need to exercise discretion, and patience, in this endeavor.” Planax turned in the opposite direction and looked through his viewing device again.

“Mind your tone, Planax,” Quiledel snapped.

“If only it was my tone that plagued you, Commander,” Planax replied. “But we both know it is the environment that is your enemy at the moment.”

“Then do not add to my troubles,” Quiledel said.

“Signal!” Webster Meeks called out as his monitor lit up, displaying readings of a pressure wave that had been detected. “We’ve got a signal. Not yet in this dimension… or atmospheric,” he said in amazement, looking up into the gray sky, but not seeing anything worth noting. “It’s a pressure wave.” Despite what he was reading, Meeks did not miss the actions of Planax who secured a line to Meek’s harness. Planax then secured himself before approaching the team’s Commander.

“A pressure wave?” Quiledel asked as she approached Meeks’ portable workstation, frustrating Planax momentarily. She looked at the screen and then at Meeks. “Are these readings right?”

“Ran a diagnostic after I revisited breakfast,” Webster answered as he typed in a series of commands.

The rear of the craft opened, a specialized broadcast array emerged and sent out a series of signals designed to either confuse or mislead the more sensitive devices on Earth. Everything from SETI to the various military efforts of the planet had to be convinced that what they saw, if they had seen anything, was most likely a glitch in their systems. Webster knew that the agencies were far too paranoid to confer with each other, therefore they would not come to the conclusion that even if the event was indeed a glitch, how did several agencies receive the same glitch at the same time? After those signals were sent, Webster used his apparatus to arrange for any further events to be missed altogether. He had secured the grid of the map they were in, but he had kept the protective bubble within the atmosphere as they thought all the travel would only be dimensional.

“As we suspected,” the fisherman said as he tended to his nets. He was a little frustrated by the length of his beard and how it served no function to have so much hair growing from his face. “There is little need for us to expend energy to hide ourselves when there are others who are so willing to do our work for us.”

“Indeed!” the older fisherman said, still not quite used to his girth, but glad that he was clean shaven and bald. “But this is not yet over. Are you certain we will be enough to contain it?”

“We are not here to contain it,” the first replied, hand-combing his beard out of the nets he was gathering.

“Then why are we here?” the woman asked as she disengaged the drive for the engines. “According to the scriptures-”

“According to the scriptures,” the first interrupted, “only the will be proof against that which comes, since it comes seeking the anyway.”

“Your perspective has not been concluded,” she argued. “Not to mention substantiated! The has not yet been proclaimed.”

“Simply because we do not know a presence does not mean that presence is not among us,” the first said. “If we hold our action and nothing arrives to engage what next comes through the rift, we can confirm the is not on either side of the Nexus.”

“But,” the bald one started before the first released his net and stood up straight. It was clear that he was done with verbal conversation.

“But nothing!” he snapped. “We will see if the prophecies are true. According to the Adquemlore, there will be great destruction and loss of life. If my perspective is accurate, the will come. If I am wrong, I will go to contend with the chaos-bringer while the two of you go to fetch enough of our numbers to resolve the situation.

“But if I am right, think of the discovery we will have made!” a smile burst across his face and there was a light in his eyes. It was the light of faith and there was little the other two could do to reason with belief. They looked at each other before the large bald one resumed his duties.

“I will go with you,” the woman said. “We will not need two messengers.”

“Agreed!”

“I am a god among mortals!” Webster Meeks proclaimed as he typed.

“Does his holiness wish to explain himself?” Quiledel asked.

“Just playing footsies with a wannabe here,” Webster answered. “We have some Earth-side people using a scan wave that screams Negatroix to me… Pel’Tierre House, if I am not mistaken. Hard to believe they are still trying to get in on the action. Optimum Horizons is the company name. Ring any bells?”

“Solomon warned us about them,” Quiledel recalled. “His former employer had formed an alliance with the House of Pel’Tierre, did she not?”

“Sure did,” Webster said. “And from what I’ve been able to gather, Vey’s still making calls to the House Pel’Tierre. Though according to my contact, the effort has been mostly one way.”

“If Pel’Tierre does not reciprocate the effort of Vey, she cannot be considered too great a threat, then,” Quiledel concluded.

“The wind touches you as it touches garbage,” Planax added. “If only so that you can smell where it has been.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Quiledel asked.

“We do not judge the wind looking at the reaction of things it touches, and the same can be said of this woman,” Planax said as he looked up through his binoculars. He could see the pressure wave as it entered the atmosphere. Despite Meeks’ skills, there was nothing he could do to hide the existence of flames burning in an arch formation. “She was at one time a lower-level business administrator. Now she owns her own company and has government officials she can contact… on both sides of the Nexus. That is a mighty wind, in spite of the opinions of the House Pel’Tierre. And it is capable of making a powerful storm!”

“Why Planax, I didn’t know you were so philosophical,” Quiledel said as she looked up. “A shame your father did not possess your skill set.”

Planax looked at his Commander, and Webster Meeks said a silent prayer that the Private would have the inner strength to ignore the statement. They were getting so close to being in much better places. One law of human interaction held true on both sides of the Nexus: only in metaphysical expressions is the Mind over Matter. If you don’t matter, nobody minds.

“My father’s skills applied more to the accuracy of an energy round,” Planax said plainly. “That was his philosophy.”

“A sound point of-” an echoing boom shuddered through the sky overhead. “What is that?” Quiledel pointed up as the sky overhead shifted from gray to black.

“I don’t know,” Webster said as he typed. “The sensors see energy, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever scanned. It’s not in the database!”

“What?!” Quiledel snapped.

“It’s not there!” Webster snapped right back. “I can pull a name out of the side of my you-know-what but that doesn’t mean I’ll get it right. And you can forget what you’re seeing. It’s just outside our atmosphere and it is removing most of the gases in the atmosphere in a five hundred square kilometer area!”

The craft and the waters started to show signs of quick freezing and Planax checked his wrist monitor. While his uniform maintained his body temperature of thirty-six degrees Celsius, the outside temperature dropped from fifteen degrees to five degrees in five seconds.

“The pressure wave is still on its way down,” Webster reported as he typed in commands that made all of the sensors go into their housings. “But whatever is behind it, creating it, that’s gonna smack into our mystery energy field!

“The grid is clear,” Webster continued, hitting the button that initiated the folding of his workstation. “… and I suggest heading east, as this thing is probably going to go west.”

“Agreed!” Quiledel said as she was already inside the craft. “Planax!”

“I will assume the pilot station,” Planax said as he jumped up and over the railing of the upper deck and entered the bridge. Since both operations were possible, Planax changed the format of the ship while lifting off, but he turned the ship to fly south… he had a strong feeling they would soon be changing course.

She looked at her wrist as she blew out the cigar smoke. Despite what the doctors said, she would always have a scar there. She had risked her life before, but Bonita Turner had never come so close to dying. She had run the course of rehabilitation, dealt with the stupid, “How did that make you feel?” questions and had been given the option of taking a three-month leave with pay and traveling expenses. The only thing a travel agent could have told her was how to get to her next assignment.

She could hear him roll over, last night’s entertainment. Her shrink would say it was just another testament that she was still alive. She logged it as being horny and having the sort of physical package to induce a passionate embrace with a comely and capable lover.

“

, ,” Bonita thought as she looked back into the room. He was not waking up, not yet. It was the light of the rising sun that caused him to turn away and Bonita placed the long thin cigar between her lips.

“Are you a morning person?” a voice called to her from the next door balcony. Bonita turned to look at her supervisor. He was the reason why she could not sleep. He could have been last night’s activity, the man sure looked qualified to deliver a better performance than the one she had chosen; however, he had demonstrated he was not the sort to mix personal and professional realms. But it was his demeanor and the way he handled his business that stirred her inner calm. He was not just sharp, but hauntingly perceptive and could anticipate Wednesday afternoon by Sunday night. He stood there, already dressed in another immaculate suit, sipping a cup of coffee.

“Not really,” Bonita answered. “And I thought your room was on another floor.”

“Another floor and certainly not on the eastern side of the hotel,” Richard answered. “But I wanted to talk to you, as it appears a number of things are going to be changing and very, very soon.”

“I’m all ears, sir.”

“Hardly,” Richard said, looking out into the city. “You are, however, well groomed and possess a certain quality of etiquette. You don’t like the fact that you’ve been here for a good length of time, but I have yet to give you an assignment that has taken longer than three hours to complete. Part-time work assigned to a full-time professional as it were.”

“You’re in charge for a reason, sir,” Bonita quickly answered. “I just want you to know that I’m ready.”

“Readiness is best judged after the fact,” Richard coolly replied. “Anyone who claims they are ready before they know what they’re supposed to be ready for is at best naïve.”

“Or dedicated,” Bonita argued.

“Blind dedication doesn’t know where it’s going,” Richard declared. “And while generating the muster to get down the road, it’s not sure if it has or has not already passed its destination. ‘Let’s win one for the Gipper!’ one might scream, without even knowing what game is being played.”

“An able athlete can play more than one sport,” Bonita replied, trying to hold her ground.

“So you would bring a knife to a gunfight?” Richard asked as he let out a long sigh. “Relax, Bonita, what you’re trying to do you’ve already done!”

“If I may speak freely?” Turner asked.

“Please,” Richard nodded his response.

“I’ve seen you use that 20/10 vision on others. What do you think I am trying to do?”

“Hmmm, ‘20/10’?” Richard repeated. “Oh yes, that is natural night vision, isn’t it?” he chuckled as he swirled his cup in a small circle and blew into the hot liquid. “Thank you for the compliment. But let me assure you, your observation is at best only slightly informed.

“Telling me about my perception is a challenge on two fronts: one, that you know when I am using it and two, that I am wrong about what I see in you.

“You are trying to demonstrate you are strong, ready and able,” Richard continued. “Holding your ground in this debate when you’ve got no ground to hold… for some it might come across as noble. For me, it is a waste of precious resources. You survived an assassination attempt and came right back to work. Strength, readiness, in the capacity it can be measured, and ability are already proven. What I did not know was your measure of discipline. Were you a dirk or a diva?”

“So the small errands-”

“Needed to be done,” Richard quickly answered. “But they could have been done by nearly anyone. I have been assessing your loyalty and your assessment of me.” He paused. “You should get dressed,” Richard continued, looking up. “We don’t have much time and I am going to need a most exceptional operative.” Bonita made no verbal response. She turned and entered her bathroom. Richard smiled as the projected image of him faded from sight.

The black sky quickly turned gray again as the temperatures started to climb. The cloud coverage was thicker, as the pressure wave carried with it energy that was off the scale. In an instant, rocking seas became stormy ones as lightning cracked and thunder boomed.

Inside the aircraft, Quiledel stood over Webster’s shoulder as he finished logging into the station. Instantly the screens from his portable station were transferred to his console.

“This is too much!” Webster whispered as he ran diagnostics. “If these readings are right, the pressure wave alone set off the kind of storm that could capsize an aircraft carrier!”

“These people make waterborne craft-ports?” Quiledel asked.

“You better believe it! 95,000 tons of steel!” Webster said as his equipment signaled it was functional. “That would be around 86,000 metric tons.”

“How exotic!” Quiledel said genuinely. The notion of having a craft-port on the water seemed decadent, but a sign that Earth humans at least had some measure of taste.

Webster typed and typed, moving data from his screen to secured databases before reaching for more. One particular lunge made him stop.

“What was that?” Quiledel said.

“Another energy signature,” Webster answered softly, still shocked at what he was seeing.

“Well, verify it, man!” Quiledel ordered, but Webster did not move.

“Energy signature verified,” Planax cried out as he turned the aircraft west. “It’s a Cog.”

“A what?”

“A Cog, Commander,” Planax answered, raising all of the stealth fields the craft possessed. He also increased their speed. “A Time-Space Cog to be precise.”

“And you are turning us into the storm for what reason?”

“We will be above the storm shortly, Commander,” Planax answered. “But this Cog appears to be ill-formed. Whatever object created the pressure wave is still coming. These are the right coordinates, but the time of the object’s arrival has been shifted. We have the where, but not the when, and since this thing is coming from outer space, we must account for the rotation of the planet.”

Quiledel walked up to the bridge, looking at her Private and the pilot of the aircraft. “Cogs are a rare thing, Planax. The information regarding them is restricted. As a Master Tech, Meeks has access. Please tell me how it is know of them?”

“I scored superlative at the academy, Commander,” Planax answered plainly.

“Then why are you not an officer?” Quiledel was surprised.

“I wanted to my commission, Commander. With my name, I wanted to leave no question as to who and what I am.”

“Your ambition yields to my gain,” Quiledel stated as she took her seat. “Computer, log the event and my decision to proceed westward to intercept the object.

“The event is logged,” the computer stated. Planax’s grip on the controls tightened, but he made no other sign of his anger.

“Are we to follow them?” she asked as she joined the two fishermen.

“We do not have a choice,” Neekrum said as his true form stepped out of the body of the first fisherman. He brushed back his red hair as the slender bearded man collapsed. The cost for sharing forms had been placed solely on his shoulders and, new to the experience, the Earth man had nearly died from it. Neekrum’s tall and slender form looked down on the body he had used as a protective shell. His brown eyes looked down at the sleeping mass, and for a moment, he pondered the significance of the creature’s existence. They were sheep waiting for a fox to come and claim them. Neekrum committed this particular sheep to memory, as he might have need to reclaim it in the future.

Likewise, Purgh left the large bald man, who had to be assisted into unconsciousness. Though just as round, Purgh was nowhere near as tall as the human he had taken. Though he did not have an active disregard for the man who had been his host, his mind was quickly engaged with the calculations he needed to make to breach the Nexus and get back home. Time might very soon be a commodity in short trade.

Telishe stepped out of the wife of the first fisherman, and very much to the reverse of Neekrum, she had a great envy for the woman. The woman had her mate and she was very happy with the bearded one. Telishe could do nothing but wait for the grand intelligence of the one she cared for to divine that she had a heart waiting for his. She quickly brushed back her short blonde hair and donned her glasses, which quickly changed their format to a goggle configuration. Perhaps Cherry was correct in her estimations.

“We have to follow,” Neekrum said as he generated an anti-gravity field around his body and started to float above the deck of the fishing boat.

“You and I will give pursuit,” Telishe said, choosing to use a magnetic field instead. “Purgh will go back and advise the others.”

“Yes, that is best,” Neekrum agreed. “He is not suited to combat anyway.” Neekrum took flight and was nearly out of sight in two seconds. A tell-tale boom sounded from his acceleration.

“Perhaps,” Telishe said as she hugged her friend. “But I feel we are only half a mind without your presence.” Her hazel eyes smiled and tried not show any fear or desperation.

“Then I will not tarry,” Purgh smiled as he rubbed his blue eyes. There was something on this side of the Nexus that did not agree with him and only moments out of the assumed Earth form, the reaction had started once again.

“Neither shall I,” Telishe said as she whisked away, her boom sounding in a shorter time than Neekrum’s.

His phone did not have time to sound off. The screen showed he was about to receive a call and Richard answered it quickly.

“Yes?”

“Luminary Richard,” Luka was on the other end and she sounded sharpened to the moment. Not overly anxious, but excited to witness something she had studied over and over again. “I take it you are already engaged in your day and your given objectives.”

“I felt it too, Master Luka,” Richard said, cutting to the chase. He could hear her gasp. “Shall I suspend my previous assignment?”

“You will serve as our liaison, Luminary Richard. You will greet them.”

“You already know it is more than one?” Richard asked.

“I have already arranged to view the event,” Luka answered and Richard closed his eyes, remembering that she was indeed a Master.

“You have my envy,” Richard shared.

“I can accept that inasmuch as you are about to have mine, Lu-”

“Master Luka?” Richard called out as he stood up from his desk. “Master Luka?!”

“Something is wrong!” she whispered, sounding as if she was straining to share the information. The line then went dead.

Richard looked at his phone for a brief moment and then dialed in a three digit code. The line rang once before it was answered. “Bonita?” he called out. “Tell me, are you… ready?”