He pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing sideways at her. “The elders are convinced she’s had psychic access to one of the underground cities on Thalia. Mica believes she saw the main space port city of Shinzia.” Manton exhaled loudly, thinking about the state of shock he’d left his mother in. “Considering its Debra, they plan to take the vision at face value. A message is being drafted and will be sent to the other cities later today for all to begin making preparations and to initiate scanning the space corridor.”
Rowan backhanded a stray lock of hair off her cheek. “We’ve failed them,” she said tonelessly. “Fleeing one dying planet only to find death on this one.” She sat there, tears smarting in her eyes. “How long do you figure we have?”
“If we assume the vision was current, and Debra is convinced it is, then we’ve only got about two years to find new locations for underground cities and arrange for purchase of the land and water rights for approximately fifty to hundred thousand Thalian newcomers.” Manton stepped outside the alcove and made a helpless gesture as he looked back at Rowan. “If it wasn’t current and the ships are already well en route, we’ll have maybe enough time to arrange for massive food drives to subsidized ship’s stores and get volunteers ready for indoctrinating Thalians to Earth’s customs, languages, foods, and immunization.”
His black eyes glittered brightly, unnaturally. “Since there isn’t anything you can do about any of this at the moment, you should get back into bed and rest for a couple of hours. Give your self-healing a chance to do its work.”
“What about you?” Rowan said flatly.
“I’ll be with Duran and some of the elders in archives if you need me. A team is being put together to start narrowing down relevant land masses around the world; possible sites for further investigation by our helpers above.”
Rowan nodded mutely, sitting on the side of the IR bed long after Manton had gone, and wondered what more could be done to save the Thalian nation that had not already been done.
* * *
It was like being confined inside a large multi-faceted prism of slow, unvarying motion. At first no sensations, only pure intellect absorbing the glimpses of existence on display within the prism’s turning and twisting shape, carried along inside by refracted lines of dimensional color to new panes of time and space.
The warrior was gone, but not the mind’s ability to process and be aware. Without eyes, Debra could still see. Without lungs to breath and a heart to pump blood, she was still alive. Instinct was her guide now in this shifting realm of color and shimmer, the ever changing snapshots of universal beings and localities reaching out from the prism’s portholes of existence.
Flashes of light, like tiny fireflies, continuously broke away from the conveyer-like lines of colors to scurry from one window to another, seeming to wait for the right moment, then one by one breach the enormous panes to join the river of color beyond the tumbling prism, beyond reality, seeking the journey’s end.
Instinctively understanding that thought was action and reaction, Debra pressed up against the pane directly before her, not really surprised or discouraged when nothing happened. What did shock though was the insight that the flashes of light were souls of the universe, beings of pure energy, needing a precise windowpane of dimension and space for traveling Home.
She pressed her consciousness to another pane and suddenly realized that the river of color, visible through the gleaming, gossamer walls, was an irresistible beacon for all entitled souls, and provided a road back to the Gateway and release from the arduous weight of the physical domain; the return to omnipotence again, with all the rights and privileges of life memories, cerebral abilities, and true appearance.
At the next pane Debra focused on Damon, pictured him in her mind, mentally calling out to him, and finally demanded that her ability, FIND DAMON. Either her capabilities were useless here in the prism or Damon had moved on. And yet another insight became apparent. Not all souls earned the right to the Gateway and were absorbed by the black river flowing throughout the prism and returned in vitro to physical existence.
Since Debra did not perceive herself as a flash of light and was unable to breach any of the panes, she found it logical to assume that ‘earning the right’ to the Gateway or being ‘absorbed by the black river’ was, for the most part, related to those who had at least physically died. So what was the protocol or recourse for those who entered the prism by mistake?
Octagon.
The familiar voice was suddenly there in her mind, as though holding on to her existence with barely more than a tenuous grasp. If Debra still had the ability to feel her heart, it would have skipped a beat and thumped for joy. Damon was here, locked in the prism with her.
Absorbing his fragile thought into the safety of her existence, she sensed his weakness and desperately strained awareness toward the next oncoming window. The effort was pointless, though, and threatened a form of pain for her effort as the prism continued its slow, unwavering tumble and turn around her. Not all the panes offered answers or showed fleeting images. And none of the intermittent sequences of places and beings were familiar.
Soon.
“Hang on, Damon. Help me find you.” she cried out, using the familiar form of telepathy from the dream world. Awareness scanned every image and tested every pane within range. “Help me. Give me a sign,” she fiercely demanded.
Suddenly the lines of color disappeared and the cloying pull of the black river seemed to anchor inside thought and emotion, weakening her mindset, clouding focus and determination. She felt the struggle to break free fading away and was terrified of losing control. With every ounce of strength still locked within her human consciousness, Debra roared as the killing power flashed outward in a surrounding wave of destructive energy.
The prism’s faceted structure and diaphanous walls shuddered, its slow tumbling turn momentarily suspended. Where once the black river had roiled and swelled, now there was only emptiness.
“No,” intellect thundered, horrified she had finally managed to kill Damon with her carelessness.
The prism began moving again, so slowly, the struts and walls reforming, inch by inch. The next pane, in the shape of an octagon, came into view. What remained of the membrane that covered the window was smashed into jagged shards. No light or shadow hinted at a presence, and yet Debra instinctively and joyously knew Damon was there in the darkness.
A thought, a wish, a simple melding of intellect and emotion and Damon was securely held within her consciousness; completely open and vulnerable. How many times over the years had his mind reached out to her from the shadows to keep her safe and take her home to the dream world to reenergize. How grateful her existence now to finally be able to reciprocate in kind. Delight shivered blissfully over blended senses, for barriers were down with no more lies or hidden truths.
Before the prism could completely repair itself, together Debra and Damon willed themselves beyond its boundaries and into the blackness of dimensional space and time. Of one mind they journeyed to the safety of the dream world, knowing each had their lifeforce of existence duly anchored once more in the physical domain.
* * *
Theron rushed into Rowan’s office, looking ready to burst. “We’ve got brain activity on both of them again,” he blurted breathlessly, his wide infectious grin hard to ignore. He winked at her. “Brain wave readings correspond to the dream world interim. I guess they stopped off for a little R&R.”
Theron laughed, enjoying the dazzling smile that expanded over Rowan’s beaming face. Eyes closed, she took a moment to give silent, grateful thanks. It was like the mountain had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders. While Damon was in for a scathing piece of her mind for scaring the wits out of family and friends, Debra was about to become hero to the Thalian nation, whether she wanted it or not.
Almost seventy-two hours had passed since Debra disabled the doors to Quarantine One. As Manton had order, the very next day technicians broke into the unit and all were stunned to find Damon and Debra together on one bed, as though lover’s lost in sleep. Not designed for multiple readings, the headboard monitor had disengaged. Great care was taken in the tedious job of extricating their joined hands to avoid breaking fingers or damaging skin.
Once separated both were moved to individual surgical beds on the platform in OT, life signs normal, their minds vacant, and under constant supervision by the duty staff and the hundreds who crowded into theater seats and the overhead observation booth.
Manton darted into the office and looked expectantly from Rowan to Theron. “Is it true? Word’s spreading like wildfire that their back.” Even convinced that Debra had the emotional and mental strength to find Damon, the past three days had weighed heavily on his conscience. Because Rowan was right. Desperation for his friend and sovereign had forced his hand into provoking Debra to risk everything. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to send someone into harm’s way, and very much doubted it would be the last. At Theron’s grinning nod Manton breathed easier for the first time in days.
Rowan stood up from behind her desk, her eyes twinkling through weariness. “I just got word myself. You might as well come with us to OT.” She gave him a defiant stare. “I’m going to need them both conscious before I can confirm a successful mission. So you’ll have to wait until then before you start gloating.”
The com-link terminal quietly beeped on her desk, the viewing screen showing a cataleptic Damon and Debra on the platform, plus smaller rotating views of monitor readings, the crowds in the theater and observation, and the congregating throng in the main corridor on level three.
* * *
Damon watched Debra from the rocks as she swam in the perfectly warm, flawlessly blue sea waters just down from their home. Time meant nothing in the dream world. Only in reality did time become an obsession that ruled the living and dying.
For now he was content to sit and watch her beautifully rounded bottom bob to the surface with each powerful arm stroke that sleekly cut through the water. They had fed on each other in a sexual haze of hunger and need the moment they materialized in the dream world. After two cycles of day and night they had slept like babies in each other’s arms in the wide hammock beneath the willow trees.
The cycle of day and night was a comfort to the mind and body and one both Debra and Damon wanted incorporated in their world. The sun shone constantly throughout the day, unless the mood found pleasure in the sounds of raindrops tapping against the leaves while making love. Nighttime resembled the twilight of the Yukon’s midnight sun, with a delicious breeze coming in over the water to make cuddling and sleeping a pleasure all its own.
Many Thalian researchers proclaimed the dream world simply a cerebral reality in Damon’s mind that Debra shared because of their link. In truth, Damon realized years ago that Debra was the power that accessed the dream world dimension. It was her psychic intensity that Damon had picked up on and followed as a baby. It was Damon, waiting in the shadows for her, needing her strength to focus. In either reality, Debra was the powerful engine while Damon was the drive that kept them both on course.
Born of a Thalian father and a human mother. Conceived in love. Yet raised in fear and abuse. Debra now struggled to assimilate both birthrights, and live up to the epic expectations as the last hope for the Thalian nation.
Looking out at the solitary, self-contained woman strongly swimming in the vast, overpowering sea, Damon slowly shook his head and once again marveled at Debra’s strength of will.
Only when she finally accepted her life, her strengths, her natural ability to do what needed to be done to survive, when the fears of her past were irrevocably let go, only then did Damon believe the truth would become apparent to everyone. Without Debra there was no dream world. Without Debra there was no saving the Thalian population on Earth.
The time had come for Debra to stand by his side, as wife and consort, and become the leader she was born to be.