Not of this place, the visitor moved forward cautiously but confidently, making her way alone, as instructed. The late afternoon sun and heat remained oppressive, although the sky blue chadri she wore was cooler than she first imagined it might be when pulling it over her cargoes and tee shirt.

Encumbered by the head-covering portion, she felt unease with restricted vision, the covering only affording an opening on front of her face just around her eyes, with this modest opening crossed with wide mesh netting.

Minutes earlier, taking in her surroundings as best she could after disembarking from a rickety old bus, the alien traveller felt the pull of curiosity from the area’s diversity, of experiencing a new culture, a new place, a new people. In other times, she would welcome this experience, relish meeting the villagers and spending time learning of their lives.

The village she now walked through was of modest size, perhaps a cluster of forty homes. She could not even remember the village name now, silently admonishing herself for forgetting such a basic element of this effort. “Somewhere outside Betawul, southeast of Jalalabad,” she recalled, partially.

The homes were of like construction, sand coloured and made of mud-brick, one story, and modest in appearance. Clustered in the midst of a valley, farmlands surrounded the village, but in the distance, mountains claimed geographical stewardship of this area, a notoriously inhospitable environment not far from where Osama bin Laden was reputed to hide.

Walking down this street, shadows grew longer, reaching east-northeast, creating interesting geometric patterns as they found the unique configurations of an adjacent home. People worked around their property, although they were mostly women, dressed like she. Some turned and watched for a minute as she passed, recognising something different, someone different, in their midst.

Small villages in the isolated area were close-knit places, everyone knows everyone else. They did not know her, and she knew that despite her efforts to cloak in the dress of the villagers, she stood out.

Height was one immediate and obvious difference between them. Few women were as tall as she was in this region of the world. Another was her unfamiliarity with place and customs, but the major element of differentiation was being a stranger in a village that was home to perhaps 300 people in all.

Walking slowly, she tried to hold tight to patience. Her destination was somewhere in this village. Beyond that, it was a matter of walking and waiting.

The idea, the inclination to accept the mysterious and vague proposal, was a high-risk gamble from the beginning, one that prompted lively debate before the final decision to proceed.

Ten days before, Llhaesa received an anonymous request through back channels, asking her to meet with a high-ranking representative of the Taliban, the meeting purportedly to discuss ending the group’s efforts to seize control of Afghanistan, but do so in some way that allowed it to retain a semblance of dignity.

The risks outweighed the potential gains and they knew that from the outset. Jahrae objected to llhaesa attending, thinking that llhaesa was the one person among them who was indispensable, the one person among them who, in the Taliban’s hands as a captive, could serve to grab and sustain the attention of a world. Setting aside personal considerations, this reasoning held that it would show her powerless against them, and might well make subsequent change more difficult.

Jahrae instead proposed she should be the one to go. As Ambassador to Arrkarhara, as someone a bit less visible publicly yet experienced in negotiation, as one with diplomatic protection, there would be less attention and less potential threat, while subsequent extraction would also prove easier due to diplomatic status.

A lively debate ensued over which should go, but in the end and reluctantly, llhaesa agreed to this approach, though as usual, she would rather take risks herself and not jeopardise anyone else.

In order to avoid publicity, the second message they received indicated that llhaesa should travel by traditional means. This meant flying into Kabul, and then relying on unreliable means of ground transportation to navigate across some of the most dangerous, inhospitable environments in the world.

The anonymous, long-distance bargainers agreed on date and time, though the process of final agreement took three days. Jahrae set off, with Elsrensia implanting a chip that could track her whereabouts, and which Arrkarharan technology could not trace or discover.

The journey to Afghanistan took two days just to reach Kabul, and another day to Jalalabad. After four hours or riding in the rickety vehicle, Jahrae walked along, biding her time until others took her away.

It happened quickly. Two men stealthily approached from behind, each coming up alongside Jahrae and taking her arms firmly in their hands. The men guided her off the street and into one home, where they placed her in a room, leaving her alone.

At least a few hours passed, the day moving rapidly toward night, before someone re-entered the room. “We go now,” was all he said, his hand gesture more a command than call, his purpose to guide her to an enclosed outdoors area, one with but a hole in the ground and a small stone table off to the side. He left her without further comment. She knew its purpose, and put it to good use. Although Jahrae had not thought about the need to urinate, she felt some relief after the fact.

A bowl of water and accompanying towels sat on a small stone slab, and she used this to wash thereafter. Finished, she stepped out, where one person stepped forward and tied a black bandanna around her head, removing any ability to see.

Once again, two men guided her, stopping as she heard an electronic humming sound, and based on the movement of sound, they scanned her for electronics.

Satisfied she was clean of tracking or eavesdropping equipment, they guided her into a vehicle, pushing her inward. Based on voices, there were now men on either side of her in the vehicle, and two in front of her. The drive that followed proved long and boring, her stomach gaining queasiness from the combination of blindfold and jarring.

Sleep mercifully overtook her, only to have someone shake her awake, the vehicle now stopped. Her neck felt stiff from the odd angle at which she apparently slept, but she forgot about this as the man on the left pulled her out of the vehicle, unnecessarily rough in this action.

She stumbled while following their strong-armed guidance, stumbled again as she navigated up one short step, regaining her balance, moving forward. A door closed behind her, the blindfold promptly removed, soft candlelight flickering and teasing her eyes as she regained her vision.

Turning back and looking towards the door, Jahrae noted that those who brought her had disappeared. Taking in her surroundings, she startled as two men walked in from an adjacent room, each taking a seat in one of three chairs in the room, one facing in opposition to the other two, about two metres apart.

The singular chair was for her.

One man motioned for her to sit, and so she promptly dropped onto the chair. “I am removing my head covering now,” she spoke in passable Pashto. Jahrae pulled back the covering, liking the feel of fresh air around and on her face.

“You are Jahrae Khentavra, Ambassador of Arrhazon?” the one on the right asked.

“Yes,” she simply replied.

“What of your wife? We requested to meet with llhaesa. No matter now, you are here.

Why is it you wish to change our culture, Ms Khentavra? What is it you gain from this advocacy?”

“I gain nothing. Your world, this community, this culture, gains peace, prosperity, and the strength of having all its citizens strive to be all they wish to be in life.”

“Surely there is something in it for you; no one acts without the prospect of personal reward,” the man on the right countered.

“I am not in need of additional wealth, you should know this already, but if you do not, it is fact. Our combined assets, those of my wife and I, surpass that of anyone else on your world.

We have no use for most of it, well, we do; we put it to good use helping others through five foundations on Arrhazon, and three – so far – here.

Our relationship from the first has been about achieving peace and equality, working to build a society where we take care of one another, moving all prosperously into the future.

I assume you know we have a track record of success.”

“I am aware of your claims, Jahrae. It is obvious you have some resources at your disposal. I do not mean to suggest you lie, only that we do not have clear evidence of the full range of your wealth.

No matter, that is small talk.

Your advocacy would bring sin to our people, it would destroy our culture, pull them away from Allah. We…cannot have this, we cannot let this happen.”

“I do not wish to interfere in religion, whatever your name is. You could share it with me if you wish to continue this dialogue.

Anyway, I value your culture, but it can change and retain its uniqueness. What needs to change is your ill treatment of women, along with this incessant need to impose your religious beliefs upon people who should be free to decide for themselves.

Just to be clear, I have little use for missionaries from other religions showing up and trying to pressure people in different directions, yet another practise that must end, worldwide. People have minds; they can use them to decide for themselves.

I am curious; if you stand in opposition to my efforts and that of my team, why are you here and why are we talking today?”

“I am here to make our views known, not to you, but to the world.”

“You have a funny way of reaching out to share your views, given the secrecy involved.”

“Yes, well, we will make news when we are ready, not before.”

“Tell me, why do you believe yourself to be my equal?”

“I believe everyone is equal to one another.”

“Really now, that is an interesting but unrealistic point of view. For instance, I am stronger than my colleague on my right.”

“We all have our strengths and weaknesses, but it is important we make use of law; we must all be equal for society to grow and thrive, give room for us to develop our particular strengths.”

“I have yet to meet a woman who is my equal, Jahrae. Why is that?”

“Easy. You do not have a clear grasp of reality, and you assume your strengths outweigh the collective strengths of another. I would bet if I observed the women with whom you have contact, a different opinion would result.”

“You are an arrogant one; spirited, and feistier than most. It is a pleasure to take you as our hostage.

By the way, I am Mullah Mohammed Omar, you may have heard of me.”

“I have. And I must say, your conduct now in taking me hostage is typically dishonourable.”

Omar’s eyes flashed anger, but he maintained a smile of one believing he held the upper hand.

“Yes, well, words are cheap, Jahrae. Actions are what count, and right now, the Arrhazonan Ambassador to our world is now in the hands of the Taliban, who will demand a significant package of concession and assets before we agree to set you free.”

“No one will agree to your demands, Mohammed. In the end, you cannot defeat me or my people, never mind the will of a world.”

“Naturally you assume your wife will come to your rescue, but they will know that to do so will mean your death.”

“You keep telling yourself that. I hope no one dies in this, but if it happens, it won’t be me or one of us.”

Omar looked at her but said nothing, rising out of his chair and walking out, the mystery silent man leaving on his heels. Jahrae heard the door lock behind her, and knowing there would be no escape in the moment, she looked for a place to settle down and sleep.

In Henna, llhaesa impatiently waited for word from her partner. They agreed to allow an extra day post meeting time before she took action and set out to find Jahrae.

According to the tracking in the orbiting Arrhazonan ship, they knew her exact location, in a remote location of Afghanistan. Every now and then, llhaesa snuck out to Chekresu and activated the systems, checking to verify the signal still existed.

Still, waiting was frustrating, borne of ignorance of what happened in the meeting, with some sense of being limited in how she might respond if Jahrae was in peril.

Llhaesa did not have to wait long for news. A White House staffer called, asking if llhaesa could get to the White House within the next hour; President Ellenwood, now in her second term, had called an emergency meeting.

Llhaesa decided to take Baby Bay to Washington; that way, she need not bother anyone else capable of flying Chekresu along with her. She did decide to take Addison, valuing her daughter’s opinions, with the expectation that if anything untoward unfolded, Addison would be wishing to help.

Her stomach knotted from worry, llhaesa flew them to their destination without engaging in playful antics. Something was up, and until it resolved, she was all business.

Upon landing at the White House, staff escorted llhaesa and Addison to the Oval Office, where President Ellenwood waited along with Marcia Paang and surprisingly, Susan Woodward. The friends exchanged greetings, all expressing surprise over and approval for Addison’s presence.

“From all I have seen and heard, Addison,” the President remarked, “you are quite a capable young woman, one who can be of assistance now.”

The President did not wait for a response, instead choosing to get into the matter at hand. “I regret to say this, but Jahrae is now a captive of the Taliban.”

Llhaesa was unsurprised by this news; she knew they would not act honourably. “How did you learn of this, Alicia?” llhaesa inquired.

“Our embassy in Kabul received this, it was delivered by currier.” The President handed over a two-page document, one written in English, informing of Jahrae now being a captive and listing the demands the captors wished met.

“It is signed by Omar,” the President pointed out.

“Excuse me,” llhaesa calmly offered, leaving her chair and moving away from the group. The others watched as she dialled her mobile, connecting to AISV llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli. “Commander H’ahlser,” she called out, directing the automated system.

“H’ahlser here.”

“Commander, this is llhaesa. I am in the office of President Ellenwood in Washington. The United States government has received information that Jahrae is now a hostage of the Taliban.

Please institute additional surveillance measures on her indicated location, and initiate a plan to rescue. Just plan for now, we will decide on our course once we have more information, of which that planning is a part.”

“Understood, llhaesa, we will begin this work immediately. Oh, and llhaesa…hang in there, she will be all right.

I will speak with you in a bit after looking over our information.

H’ahlser out.”

Llhaesa had decided to put their conversation on speaker, allowing the others to hear.

“At least we have her location, llhaesa, not that they will keep her there. How reliable are those tracking transmitters?”

It isn’t a transmitter; the system is passive, and our systems detect distinctive natural emissions that are unique to Arrhazon. On this world, that stands out sharply.

Even if they moved Jahrae a mile underground, in all likelihood, we would still detect that unique signature.”

“Is it a metal?” Susan wished to know.

“No; at least not a metal anyone on this world would know, Susan. If they scan for metals, they will not find that chip.”

Llhaesa’s mobile rang off, and seeing the caller’s identity, she answered immediately. “Yes, Commander?”

“Jahrae is being moved, llhaesa. She is on her way into the mountains on foot, though our visual reconnaissance indicates she is all right, not tied and bound.

It will not be easy to complete a successful rescue. Taking out the weapons will still leave trained fighters who can do much harm without weaponry.

My best recommendation is for us to work stealthily, but avoiding bloodshed might not be possible this time.

There are approximately twenty of the Taliban with her, all heavily armed, and she is in the middle of that pack, moving upslope.

We mapped out their course; several trails lie ahead of them they might follow. We have followed each one from here, and interestingly, one leads to a cave.

Our sensors indicate the cave is deep and naturally suited to a good defence from within. We have surveillance in place inside, so we have that advantage.”

“Good work, Commander. We are continuing to discuss options here. I will get back to you when I arrive at home.” Llhaesa folded her mobile and turned to the others, ready to resume their conversation.

“I agree with what you just said, llhaesa. At least we have location and good information, something not often available to us in hostage situations, particularly in that part of the world,” Alicia opined.

“Mum, I am not at all certain a large team can achieve what we need to accomplish. In my opinion, those present spoil for a fight, and a full on assault will just escalate into unpredictability,” Addie offered, sharing her thoughts for the first time.

Everyone looked toward her, surprised at the young woman’s cogent and pragmatic evaluation.

“That makes sense, Addison,” Marcia Paang concurred. “The question becomes “if not that, what then?”

“Then…a small team goes in, and that small team will be mum ‘essa, Commander H’ahlser, and…me.”

Everyone looked at her again, stunned, clearly disapproving of her inclusion. Llhaesa tried a tactful approach. “Addie, I know you care, and in fact you are capable. You are also not quite 17, and we cannot allow you to risk your life.”

The others nodded in agreement, but Addie was having none of that reasoning. “Mum, I may not yet be 17, but I am athletic and think on my feet. You know I can handle myself, and if anyone doubts that, show me to a gym; in ten minutes, you will change your mind.

There are other reasons. Mum and I are virtual twins in appearance, something that can be used to our advantage, and a split second of uncertainty on their part can make all the difference.

In addition, they think lightly of women in general, and do not believe women are capable of putting up an effective fight against them. They would be in for an unexpected surprise.

We are highly motivated, we fight for our family, and if they think of themselves as motivated, it pales compared to ours.

Finally, our intangible connection, mum, will serve us well in those conditions.”

Llhaesa was unsure whether to feel pride over her daughter’s reasoned analysis, or just play parent and dismiss her points no matter how valid.

Curiosity stirred in the others, with Susan giving voice to the question on all of their minds. “What intangible connection are you referring to, Addison?”

“I will answer this one, Addie,” llhaesa jumped in, knowing this might surface, but hoping it would not. Now, it was best she explained. “You can see the tangible connections between us, a mother and daughter that look eerily like identical twins, and the similarities extend beyond what you see, to our skill, our intelligence, and so on.

There is more. Addison can feel the emotion within me, as I can within her.”

Alicia looked at llhaesa, her eyes studying, while her mind evaluated. “Llhaesa, what you both feel is a flimsy, intuitional connection at best, not something to rely on in such trying circumstance.”

“Actually, it is neither flimsy nor unreliable. This connection worked even when I was on Arrhazon and Addison was here. Now if it works across 51 light years of open space, I would imagine it would work within one cave, no matter how big.

Addison, would you please step out of the room, walk away from the door, walk down a hall, anything away from here. One of us will get you when we are ready.”

“All right, mother.” Addison got up and left. Once the door closed behind her, llhaesa turned to the others, explaining. “I am going to do a few things involving emotion. When Addison comes back in, ask her what she felt.”

Llhaesa put her left hand on the President’s desk, and promptly smashed a finger with the fist of her right hand, just enough to make it hurt for a minute or so. “Ouch, damn that smarts!”

Letting the pain fade, llhaesa thought of her dad, of how she missed him, of his gentleness, his support and belief in his daughter, his encouraging her to believe herself equal. Her eyes began to water, and a few tears slid down, two on one side of her face, one on the other.

Susan handed her a tissue, which she used to wipe away the tears. “All right, one of you pick another emotion,” llhaesa requested.

“Anger, and then embarrassment,” Marcia called out.

Llhaesa thought about Jahrae as captive, rising out of her chair, working to peel back the inner constraints that normally steered her away from anger. “I am sick and tired of these idiot terrorists messing with people, damn!”

Another adjustment period followed as llhaesa shifted her thoughts to her silly comments during appendix surgery. Her face turned red, cluing in the others watching.

“All right, that should do it. Marcia, would you go get my daughter, please?”

Two minutes later, Addison walked in with Marcia, retaking the chair she vacated minutes before.

“Addie,” Alicia asked, “did you sense any emotion emanating from your mother while you were out of the room?”

“Oh, yes! Mum, you injured a finger not long after I walked out. You thought of your dad and cried thereafter. That was followed by anger over mum J’har, and embarrassment over your comments post surgery.”

“Astounding, simply astounding,” Alicia pronounced. “That is extraordinary. Does it get in your way at times?”

“No,” Addison spoke right up, now comfortable in this environment. “It can be amusing, but it can also be a big help to one or the other. I appreciate and treasure this gift of the universe.

Now does that settle that aspect of things? The best way to approach this is a three-person team. You can have backup ready to go, but let us infiltrate that cave, and give us a chance to rescue before the remaining force acts.”

Llhaesa could not believe she was about to agree to this plan, but in her mind, Addison was right.

Already in the White House and preparing for later events two floors below, the family and team moved about the third floor as if it was their private residence. Indeed, for this one overnight stay, ‘your temporary home’ was the verbal mandate given to them by President Ellenwood, their friend and host.

The White House was about to hold a formal state dinner in honour of Jahrae, llhaesa, their family, and all of the Arrhazonan team. In preparation, the President and wife Elaine graciously wished to open their home in welcome to their distinguished guests.

Inside of fifteen minutes of their arrival, Addison and Casey found and made themselves home in the Solarium Room as the last vestiges of late afternoon light flooded in from its many windows, windows that afforded a spectacular view of the Washington Monument and surrounding area.

Visiting the children in their chosen place of refuge, llhaesa made her way over to one of the spacious windows and stared outward, captivated by the lengthening shadows and pervasive ambient golden glow produced by the low lying and soon to set winter’s sun.

“Careful with your gown Addie, it will wrinkle quite easily,” llhaesa cautioned as she turned away from the windows, noticing Addie sprawled nonchalantly across a sofa. “The first time I wore a gown of that length, I tripped over it after just putting it on; I somehow stepped on the hem.”

Addison, springing into an upright position on the flowery patterned sofa, turned to llhaesa, amusement beginning to filter into her expression. “Did you fall?”

“Yes; I stuck my hand out just in time to keep me from breaking my nose. For the effort, I sprained my hand.”

This revelation sent both Addie and Casey into laughter, one reinforcing the other’s amusement. “I will take very good care not to do as you did, mum!” Addie blurted out amidst her laughter.

“You are so coordinated, which is why this seems so funny,” Addie added.

“I normally am, but I have my moments. For instance, I tend to hit my head on occasion, and probably will wearing these heels tonight. I am almost 194 centimetres in these infernal shoes, so if there is anything low-lying, ‘bonk’.

This is something with which you should take care going forward, dear daughter. You are growing quickly, and as you approach my height, especially as fast as you appear to grow, your head will take a few knocks as well.”

“That is such a wonderful thing to look forward to, sheesh! My head hurts already, just thinking about it.”

“Casey, you seem quite placid and content in your tuxedo,” llhaesa observed, changing the subject and drawing Casey into the conversation.

“It is all right, I guess,” he replied, the monotone and unenthusiastic reply suggesting he remained unconvinced. “I have never even worn a suit before, much less a tuxedo. I have to admit I do not look as good in my tuxedo as you do in yours, llhaesa.”

Casey’s comment caught llhaesa off guard; he never made such observations on dress of others, or even gave any indication the subject was of interest to him. “Why, thank you, Casey, but you look, as Jahrae would say, rather smashing in yours.”

Llhaesa is guarded in what she says to Casey; her intuition continues its strong suggestion that Casey has gender issues lurking somewhere inside. For all llhaesa knew, Casey might secretly prefer a gown to the tuxedo currently worn. “A modification of what Arrkarharans call ‘gaydar’,” llhaesa whimsically and silently mused. Deciding it would be insensitive to disregard and blow through the cautionary warnings, she sent her thoughts elsewhere.

“I’m going to head down the hall and rejoin the remainder of the family,” llhaesa advised Casey and Addie, taking her leave, “and I’ll be back when it is time for you to finish getting ready.”

Reaching the rest of the group, llhaesa surprisingly found the President chatting with Jahrae and Ronnie. Walking up to the President, llhaesa remarked, “We both wear tuxedos tonight, this must be a dinner of state first. It is great that we can eschew the rigid and formal constraints of years past; I love it! Well done, Alicia!”

The President made a show of checking over llhaesa from head to toe. “I must admit you will turn more than a few heads with your choice of dress, ‘essa; you certainly would turn mine!” the president winked along with offering the compliment. “Not only are you supermodel gorgeous, no one can miss seeing you given your height.

I chuckle at how one or more of our more traditional and older political invitees will react to you; one in particular that has been a thorn in my side, well, may I introduce you to him?

“Who is this person, and why would they react this way?” llhaesa was puzzled.

“Senator Bemis, Republican from Nevada. He is in his sixth term now, and he likes to project his size when talking with me; many have made this observation and I disbelieved. I finally started paying attention, and sure enough, he does this. It is quite amusing.”

“How tall is he?”

“Oh, maybe around six feet, nothing spectacular, but since I am 5’6”, he senses an advantage. With you in heels…”

“I have height advantage over him, I see. Hmmm, I will see what I can do. Please do introduce me to him!

I have to scoot downstairs. I will see you all in…a half hour!” The President gracefully disengaged from the group and headed off to prepare for her formal duties, loving this particular night more than any other formal affair to date.

In her opinion, the Arrhazonans were stand up people, without exception people she liked being around. “If their spirit infects this world as they and I hope,” the President silently postulated, “they just might succeed in the goals they espouse and work to achieve.”

Following protocol, the one hundred and thirty guests, including the special guests, arrived and made their entrance in the East Room ahead of the President, who was the last to enter. The President walked in arm and arm with her popular and fun loving wife, Dr. Elaine Bourassa, to the genteel ovation of the earlier arriving guests.

President Ellenwood made her way into the room, taking time to greet and chat with each person as she slowly worked forward. Watching from afar, llhaesa marvelled at Alicia’s easy grace, animatedly chatting with everyone, sincerely interested in what each had to say. Small wonder the nation elected her despite all the factors pundits had suggested stood in her way: Alicia cared about people.

Barbara Millwood called llhaesa out of her private contemplation of the President, wishing to introduce llhaesa to Dr. Sylvia Washington, the capable physician who brought the president back to good health after her bathroom fall. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Doctor,” llhaesa smilingly greeted, first shifting her glass of carbonated water and lime to her left hand before taking the doctor’s proffered hand.

“From what the President, Barbara, and Marcia have told me, you played a significant role in protecting this country from people less interested in the welfare of everyone, and more in their own power and money,” llhaesa opined, knowing her own rescue never would have happened, at least in the way it played out on that fateful day.

“Please call me Sylvia,” the doctor graciously asked, modestly adding, “We all do what we can to make things better, and from what I can see, you and Jahrae do far more than your share.

By the time I set things up so Alicia could sneak out of the hospital, I was certain you were the real deal. Thank you for confirming my judgement!”

“You are most welcome,” llhaesa replied, slightly blushing. “Have you had the opportunity to meet Elsrensia, our physician?”

“Yes, I did moments ago; she has invited me to travel to your world when you return. I am intrigued by this possibility, and have discussed it some with the President, who has final say.”

“We would love to have you!”

An authoritative and loud voice called out, interrupting the various conversations of guests, announcing that dinner was ready to serve. The Voice requested guests file over to the State Dining Room to take their seats.

Once the East Room was clear of people, workers began adding informal seating where there was only people standing moments before, providing small tables and chairs guests for après-dinner, in order that they could comfortably watch llhaesa perform.

Each guest moved to their assigned seating and settled in. Joining the President at her table was wife Elaine, Jahrae, llhaesa, Addison, Saehressa, Casey, Marcia Paang, Susan Woodward, and Barbara Millwood. As staff served the first course, a light spinach and carrot salad, the President rose and called for a toast.

“Thank you all for coming tonight to meet and chat with our special guests of honour, whom I hope you have had the chance to interact with over the last hour, or will over the remainder of our night.

I was elected on a theme of change, a call to optimism and to build for the future, but I have to say, after meeting llhaesa and Jahrae and all of the others, they made me rethink exactly what I meant by my original position, made me rethink the limited scope of what was actually a near sighted leadership vision.

This is a time of great hope, it is the greatest time in the history of humanity on this planet, a time when our cousins in the universe call upon us and ask us to join with them in becoming part of a newly forming interstellar community.

They ask simple things of us before they agree to a partnership with us. They ask that we stop making war on one another, that we feed those who are hungry, that we clothe those who are without clothes, that we provide health care to those without, that we educate all to the best of their ability, and that we unite as a world.

We collectively think this a daunting, overwhelming request and task. Admit it, each one of us here tonight, upon hearing of their grand vision for the first time, felt scepticism course through our thoughts, me as well as you. This is where I call out myself as myopic and near-sighted.

After that burst of scepticism, I stepped back and tried to look anew, this time from further afield, from their perspective. Damn, but they are right…they are right. They can see ability in us we refuse to see in ourselves – our ability to unite and take care of one another.

As you know, I have an interface that connects to their world, and I regularly exchange letters with their Chief of Government, Gl’nsiel Frehsan. She shared with me how llhaesa and Jahrae are the very best of their world; she would trust no one else, would not allow anyone else, to attempt the task they voluntarily undertake on this one. I have seen llhaesa and Jahrae’s records of achievement, and they are nothing less than extraordinary.

I knew llhaesa and I would be friends from the moment we exchanged two sentences on the way to the Jamila Live broadcast. I knew Jahrae and I would be friends from the moment she shared her first thoughts on the same programme.

They call us to walk with them across a bridge to a future we heretofore only fantasised about in our movies and literature. I know of no one more deserving of our appreciation and gratitude than Jahrae and llhaesa, and along with them their entire family and team.

Please join me in a toast to llhaesa, Jahrae, Ronnie – who by the way, is our future representative to Arrhazon, Elsrensia, Saehressa, Addison, little Sérada, who is not here tonight, Casey, Jesnsera, Chsensera, M’traliel, Khahishra, Anita, Dottie, Vicki, and David! Wow, I said that all in one breath!

You are our inspiration; to you!” Alicia held up her toasting glass and then brought it down to her lips, emphasising her actions. Draining the glass in one healthy sip, the President called out, “Thank you. Now, shall we eat?”

Alicia sat down, basking in the warmth of the champagne as it followed gravity into her body, combined with the feeling of warmth inspired by her words. Looking toward llhaesa, she noticed a reddish tint to llhaesa’s facial colouring. “Did I embarrass you, llhaesa?”

“I guess my face is a tad pinkish; no worries, I sometimes do that when people comment on me or our group.”

“What she will not say Madame President,” Jahrae interjected, “is that she is uncomfortable with anyone reminding of her accomplishments or that she should consider a leadership position.”

Llhaesa audibly groaned, and everyone at the table laughed, well knowing her distaste for personal power. It went unnoticed that her groan was absent a usual element of joviality.

“See what I mean?” Jahrae motioned toward llhaesa as she offered llhaesa’s groan as proof. “It is also one of her rather numerous endearing qualities.”

“Llhaesa, suppose one day our world is in fact unified, and we and Arrhazon and other worlds form an interstellar government. Would you consider taking a leadership position in that capacity?”

Llhaesa looked like she would groan anew, but surprised everyone by saying, “I would give that consideration.”

Everyone but the president and Elaine looked at llhaesa as if she just announced she was carrying sextuplets; the President, seemingly pleased, just smiled, sensing something stirred within llhaesa.

Saehressa broke the spell of silence, knowing she and Jahrae carried the most influence with llhaesa and had the most experience with evaluating and understanding her outlook.

In what was rare for her, she failed to notice llhaesa’s unusual mood, and consequently Saehressa’s face fashioned into something combining mirth with approval. She had thought on this issue for such a long time, and wished her daughter to know how she felt. Proceeding onward, she semi-rhetorically asked, “Well now, what have we here, my dear daughter?”

Saehressa, sitting directly across from llhaesa, looked intently at her daughter, love pouring out of her eyes, her mind gathering the words that welled up and pressured for release. After a brief hesitation, Saehressa continued.

“Ever since you were a young child, you have exuded leadership skills, sometimes quietly, at other times not so quietly – you simply stepped in, stepped up, and got things done whenever you saw a need. Looking back, I suppose on some subconscious level I knew even while I carried you that something like this was your future; how, I know not, I just felt it in my soul.

No obstacle in your path is ever too large and no obstacle is ever too high. I cannot recall a time where you failed on something you put heart and mind into achieving or overcoming, and some of the things you did as a child where rather astounding, our first tangible clues that you possessed a rather formidable intellect and ability.

Through college, you focused on things of importance within and with your local environment – high school and college was your sheltered enclave. Yet on your last day of college, at your commencement, you stepped up and burst forth from your cocoon-like educational space, ready to embrace all of Arrhazon as your new environment in which to perform, play, evaluate, advocate, and change.

A great many people took notice of your commencement speech and performance, initially not quite believing what they heard and saw. That you went after the government in such a blunt, candid way, that you had information no one else had, that what you did in performing was even possible – your dad and I, as well as your friends and instructors, knew your performing talent, we knew your political inclinations, but not Arrhazon, it knew not. A lot more would have noticed were it not for suppression of the story by the government.

You were remarkable. Perhaps for historians of the future evaluating our time, they will single out your commencement as the turning point in Arrhazonan history. This was unsurprising for me at the time, I watched you for twenty-two years. You were just llhaesa being llhaesa, doing something because it was natural for you to perform that way, natural for you to call out how Arrhazon needed to change. This is not an acquired talent, it is an intrinsic part of your soul – you know no other way to be.

You abhor desiring leadership my dear, yet you simultaneously relentlessly place yourself in a position where others will call for you to lead, seeing and hearing your advocacy and your deeds. You might not take the time to notice the things you do that produce a clamour for your leadership, but they will, they have, and they do. You do things no one else can even dream of doing – again, natural for you. Yes, you could simply refuse to use your talent, but that is not in your personal make up.

Jahrae – at least I think she does – grasps the significance of her tangential actions and contributions, as well as acknowledges other roles she might assume in the future. Maybe she understands and sees these things because she had to work harder at it, but there are commonalities between both of you. She ran from activism as you run from power – until she realised that she could best honour you and your memory by standing up and taking the lead as an activist.

Your inspiration not only saved her life, but in the process, Jahrae found strength and ability she never believed existed within her. She found what she believed in and what mattered to her.

You know the ability to lead is within you, dear daughter. Hearing you say ‘you would give that consideration’ is an indication you finally begin to realise just what it is you have accomplished and what it is you possess for ability, how it might best be applied in the future. Perhaps you begin to understand how and why you inspire, why others embrace you and trust you to do what is collectively best for us all.

The two of you are a unique team, some things in common, some not, each getting to where you are through different paths and experiences, but it seems the universe not only intentionally chose to bring you together, it chose well in bringing you to each other.

Maybe there is a greater purpose here, beyond either of you. Your famed reluctance and resistance might well be one of the very traits that make you best qualified for what it asks of you, but there is a time to keep that as a reminder, not as a hindrance.

Listen to your mother, ‘essa…for once.”

The last line drew laughs from all at the table excepting llhaesa, who merely smiled. Even Addie and Casey found the discussing interesting and Saehressa’s last comment amusing. Addie just thought of llhaesa as her mother, not a potential leader of the universe. Casey, new to the family, just thought of llhaesa as a caring sister, one kind and personally guiding. Now, for both, there was this new, beyond world-scale picture to factor into the whole.

Llhaesa surprised again by saying nothing in rebuttal or otherwise, picked with her fork around the periphery of her salad for a minute or two before courteously excusing herself and leaving the table, calmly meandering around tables and walking out of the room.

No one at the table was quite sure what just happened, or if llhaesa was even upset. Jahrae, seated just to the right of the President, started to rise, but the President interceded, placing her hand on Jahrae’s hand, asking, “Jahrae, if I may, please allow me to go talk with her.”

The request left Jahrae slightly taken aback, but she acceded, sitting back down while offering a simple, “All right, if you wish.”

The President reprised llhaesa’s departure, excusing herself and calmly strolling around the tables, acknowledging greetings but plodding determinedly forward and out of the room, walking into Cross Hall just in time to see llhaesa disappear at the far end of the Hall into the East Room.

Alicia continued onward, but before as she reached the wide entryway into the East Room, the sweet and beautiful sound of a piano floated outward, instantaneously mesmerising and enthralling her with its ethereal but troubled and complex melody.

Llhaesa noticed Alicia enter the room, but she kept playing until Alicia stood but a metre in front of her and then stopped, looking at Alicia with the saddest eyes the President could recall seeing in a long while.

“’essa, might I sit with you?” Alicia asked, softly, gently.

“If you wish, please feel free.”

“Thank you.” Llhaesa slid over on the piano bench, allowing the President to take the space nearest to her. “I know this might ring hollow given I am in the pre-eminent political position on this world, but… I understand how you feel.

You may know I am an artist by education and training, but you likely do not know that I was good; in fact, my first month post college I sold a few works for what were significant sums for an unknown artist at that time. Three to be exact and they are still works held privately by the same three families.

The only ones who know of this are my family and those who hold the works.

I happened to mention health care to the last client making their purchase, sharing how my mum was running up huge bills due to her illness, yet she did not have health coverage, and I fear I ranted to this unfortunate person, such poor marketing skill!

Instead of my ranting turning her off, she encouraged me to do something about health care. She told me I was articulate and knowledgeable and could make a difference, but to always hold tight to my artist’s heart.

The next year, I ran for the State Senate and won. Soon, my political career advanced, and I set my artist life aside, supposedly temporarily. Oh, I fully intend to go back to it once my tenure as President is over. I miss it a great deal, ‘essa.

I do dabble with painting – more than dabble, actually – in my private time, especially when troubled, as you are now. You have been through much over the last eight months. First, there was the horror of instinctively knowing that as Tim your body was all wrong, then as that set right, the government hunted you down and abused you, followed by the arrival of Jahrae. Immediately thereafter, Addison chose to embrace her Arrhazonan heritage, and you chose to become a mother, dealing now with your pregnancy.

You have not had the time to process how you feel, you have not had time to mature into your outlook and where you wish to go in life; in many ways you are still 25, though you did mature in some way by continuing to experience life as Tim, but Tim’s life and your life are a universe apart. On this specific issue, it is not one with which you have had to wrestle for fifteen years.

I guess that is a long-winded, politician’s way of saying, ‘I understand, ‘essa’.”

Llhaesa did not look up, and instead played another burst of thirty seconds of a concerto she wrote and would play later. Alicia watched how llhaesa worked her hands across the keyboard, awed by the sheer talent of the woman beside her. Stopping, llhaesa turned toward Alicia, her mind processing, evaluating, and assembling what she wished to say.

“Alicia, when you were elected to this office, were you scared?”

“Oh, I was terrified, llhaesa. There are times when it scares me still. People do not see us now, wrestling with all too human feelings, they only see ‘supports this bill’, or ‘opposes that bill’.

Talking with you now, I feel human; you understand and appreciate me as being human. I feel that way with Elaine; she keeps me grounded, just as Jahrae keeps you grounded. In truth, I prefer this feeling to the feeling that comes from a successful coursing of a bill I support through Congress.

When I am done with the public stuff for the day, I take my kowtowed to arse and park it in front of someone who knows me like no other. Elaine can see through my moods, see through my silences, and even through my occasional moments of euphoria. She sees me naked, not just in body, but especially in mind and soul, and I guess that isn’t something I would wish to share with the public, anyway.”

Alicia took hold of llhaesa’s hands, holding them tight as she continued. Llhaesa could feel Alicia will for love to flow outward through her hands, the offering love of a friend, concerned.

Both acknowledged this feeling without speaking, sitting there eyes locked, a new level of trust building upon the foundation of the old. Finally, Alicia felt it was ok to continue.

“What your mum said a few minutes ago overwhelmed you, right?”

“I guess, no it is more than that. Jahrae encouraged this, and that bothered some, to be honest; it just did not feel like our usual playful teasing. With my mum, I know on some level deep inside, she is right – after all, she is my mum, and we have always had a special relationship; we trust one another, we speak forthrightly. My parents – mum and dad both, guided and nurtured me. Even with the loss of their first child, they gave me room to find my place in life.

This is what bothers me, Alicia. Jahrae choosing almost immediately to pursue the topic, coupled with my mum’s candid assessment that I hold back, that I have this capability and duty that I run away from, that I should embrace. I appreciate her candour, but emotionally, I am not ready.

I lost fifteen years of my life. OK, I didn’t really lose the fifteen years, but I gained a wholly different and unanticipated fifteen years, years on a different world, of a different gender, and a different life. I would not trade away those years ever, because I love Addie and Serry heart and soul.

Just for a little while, can I revel in and reacquaint with my family, in the precious little things that Jahrae does, Addie does, or Serry does, and soon, what Ahrella will do? Can I embrace my motherhood without constant reminders I have other responsibilities to get on with in life? There is time for all that; I just wish to live life and cherish life right now, for once. As it is, I chase around this world convincing people to call upon their governments to change and unite. Can that be enough, at least for now, please? Please?”

Llhaesa finished speaking just as her inner will fell to the forces of emotion within, unable to hold back any longer. Her fingers tried and failed to strike the piano keys, her mind distracted by the rising tide within her. Tears called out confirmation of what Alicia already knew: this was a moment of reconnection, of llhaesa acknowledging and coming to terms with, her resumed life.

Alicia pulled the unresisting llhaesa into her arms, signalling a will to comfort through the steady hold of her arms. She knew better than to say anything, after all, what could she say? That llhaesa need not do this, that others should allow her to embrace a life she now fought to pull tight to her. No, silence was best, physical contact, better.

Llhaesa was not hopelessly mired in tears; this was a soft cry, one of contemplation and evaluation, rather than one of a lost hope or despair. After fifteen minutes, she pulled her head away from Alicia, muttering a heartfelt “thank you”.

“Alicia,” llhaesa began, her voice now gentle, yet resumed with her usual strength. “You have given me much to think about. For now, I must embrace my family and hold tight to the large and small joys they bring to me.

There will come a time when I will embrace leadership, when I am ready for a formal leadership position.

Shall we go back to join the others?”

“If you wish, ‘essa, we can. May I ask what you wish to play for us later?

“I played a portion of it when you came in, it’s called, ‘Piano Concerto for the Uniting Worlds’; that particular passage you heard is part of the Prelude.”

First sliding off the bench, both smoothed their clothing, llhaesa making certain there were no residual signs of her tears. Finished, the President and honoured guest walked arm and arm out of the East Room and Down Cross Hall, disengaging from physical contact just prior to entering the State Dining room.

They casually rejoined the head table, with some of the other guests in the room looking on curiously, given the almost half-hour absence of the President and llhaesa. The serving staff, out of deference to the President and llhaesa, held off on removing the salad plates and serving the next course.

The adults at the table pretended as if nothing at all happened, although each also felt a deep sense of worry, well knowing something did happen. Most of all Jahrae felt disconnected, felt she somehow failed llhaesa with her initial words and by not responding and comforting when llhaesa obviously hurt.

While Jahrae wrestled with her faux pas and imagined failure, Saehressa silently boxed and jabbed at herself for choosing this night and this setting with these guests to lay bare her thoughts, thoughts on an unresolved dilemma that plagued her daughter through adulthood. “Why how I said it,” replayed in her mind, and why say it now?”

Jahrae loves flying low to the lakewater. Usually she is unable take us quite this low, what with boaters about the lake in summertime, but it is not yet the new boating season, which traditionally begins on Memorial Day.

Chekresu has water capability. I half expect Jahrae will set down on the water and take us under, ready to explore along the lake bottom. We have made use of this capability only once to date, but I really do not wish to think on that incident again, at least not now.

We have not come up to Lake Winnipesaukee since the ice went out six weeks ago, confounding all the usual ice out prognosticators, most of whom predicted mid-April. Jahrae had 31 March as a date, and I laughed at her choice; the lake rarely sheds its coat before April, and with that in mind, I chose 11 April.

Jahrae had the earliest date in Vicki and David’s General Store pool; in her second ice out contest ever, Jahrae won. No fair! She reminded me of this as soon as the lakewater came into view. First the sailing competition wins, and now this, the things I must endure for love.

The $2,327 she won found its way to a local charity for children, and of course, Jahrae made a few friends with her thoughtfulness.

I look toward our property, now just in front of us. It is nice to see leaves unfolding out of their early season buds; the green adds a spirit inspiring psychological element to the lake experience that is indescribable.

I miss Arrhazon City, and in particular miss our flat in Old City, but it would not take much effort for one to talk me into permanently living as a lake dweller, no matter if we are here on Arrkarhara or on Arrhazon – although here we deal with winter, whereas there we do not.

A call early this morning from M’traliel inspired our unexpected short hop up to the lake. M’tra informed us the house was under time of renewal siege, and the siege group insists upon our presence, in order to complete what she called our ‘post-equinoctial awakening’.

Sounds like a party to me. Jahrae slows us to a snails pace, ready to set the craft down. Looking just ahead of us, I can see quite a few people scattered through the lawn area, awaiting our arrival.

“Jahrae, why don’t you set Chekresu down on the water, and we will moor it at the dock?”

“Good idea, ‘essa; that will save room for what are apparently numerous people celebrating our mid-season change.”

“Do you have any inkling of what this is really all about?” I ask, hoping she has some clue.

“Not me, I know nothing, and apparently you do not know, either. We just celebrated Sérada’s birthday, no one else falls in May, and so birthdays are out as possibilities. Might anyone else be getting married?”

“Not any that I am aware of, J’har,” I reply. Clearly both of us are puzzled. We stop.

“’essa, can you climb out and fasten two tethers from the dock to Chekresu?”

“I can do that, for a fee,” I tease, extracting a faux price that Jahrae will pay no matter if I see to the mooring or not. Yes, I am talking about that.

“Oh, and what is this fee you wish me to pay, my dear ‘essa?” she playfully asks, well knowing.

I knew she would not let the comment slide by. “I will give you the bill later tonight, though I wonder if you have sufficient means to pay.” I get up, grab two synthetic tethers from storage and open the door, ready to jump onto the dock, from where I can fasten to dock and Chekresu. I jump.

Har, Jahrae peers out the door at me playfully, her face frozen in incredulity. “Oh, really now, I cannot pay your price? Who is it that fell asleep on me twice in the past week, hmm?”

I did do as Jahrae suggests; I look up at her and grin, ready to wrap the tether around the black metal cleat fastened to the dock. I delay as my mind drifts away from the task and back to my propensity to fall asleep anywhere, or more specifically on that night, I fell asleep with my face embedded in her crotch. Hey, I was tired! Of course, she could not move very easily, either.

Fortunately, I woke up maybe fifteen or twenty minutes later, but Jahrae patiently lay there with my face firmly attached. As I recall, she was giggling when I woke up, and her fingers were combing through my hair.

Jahrae will never let me live that one down, and I suspect she will mention this incident within the next minute.

“More specifically, who fell asleep with their face in between my legs?”

See, what did I tell you? I knew she would mention this. “You were emitting sleep inducing pheromones, oh, goddess of the night. I…was powerless against them.”

“That is ‘goddess of light’, not ‘goddess of night’, thank you very much.”

“You are your own person; forget that old mythological T’srha. You are the T’srha, who is living right here, right now, and goddess of night is an apt title for you, it certainly fits you better than me. I am your elder and need my sleep, of which you selfishly continue to deprive me out of satiating your sexual thirst.”

I can see Jahrae eye the tether as I hold the other end on the dock; she probably considers pulling on it, and by doing so, dunking me in that semi-frigid lake. Jahrae averts her eyes from the tether back towards me; it is obvious she changed her mind, choosing to speak. “Remember the interview by the pool last fall? I bet that lakewater is nice and warm as well, are you interested in an unplanned swim, ‘essa?”

Jahrae places her hand on the tether, leaning outward with some of her weight upon the rope, too much. My evil twin within temporarily wins out, and I give a sudden, strong, and downward pull on the tether. Ooh, there she goes!

The resulting splash kicks up at me, catching the front of my thighs and some of my abdomen, but it is a small price to pay for my impromptu achievement.

I finish securing Chekresu as Jahrae surfaces, and ooh, she is swearing up a storm, swimming the short distance to the ladder with her usual powerful strokes. I do believe I should remove myself from this dock, quickly. I run.

I can hear people on shore laughing, and I move toward them, past them, calling out my hellos as I wave to everyone while on the run. I pull open the door to the house and scoot inward. Jahrae is about ten metres back, and she is quite intent on catching up to me. I can hear the laughter continue, with the guests encouraging Jahrae onward to capture her prey.

Of course, I am the prey, and I pray I am elusive prey.

I hear yelling as I run up and into the great room. “I am going to get you for that, wench, count on it!”

Har, I love it when she calls me ‘wench’, she sounds so irate-goddess. Oh oh, she is getting closer, I am spending too much time contemplating and giggling, and I giggle louder the closer she gets to me; it is a weakness I must work on.

I run up the stairs towards our bedroom, but she is more determined than I am; prey with apparent poor survival skills. I reach our bedroom; she is right behind me now.

I fall to the floor laughing, and Jahrae squishes, sloshes, and squeaks into the room, a spotted trail of water in her wake. “You are doomed, ‘essa, doomed!”

She pounces on me; my hands are up in self-defence, and our hands paw across one another, gaining purchase, pulling, pushing, twisting, and turning. We wrestle and roll back and forth across the floor. Others are appearing in the doorway, laughing, slowly filing into the room to watch the crazed Arrhazonan couple. Are we really the First Couple of Arrhazon as they claim? Film at 11!

I am soaked, but I care not; this is fun. Jahrae breaks free and tries to get up and chat as if in normal conversation with the sane people in the room, a means of spiritual separation from me, but I pull her back down.

Addie and Serry are in the room, and they love our antics more than anyone else does. I just hope if they start wrestling, Addie takes care, she is so much bigger than Serry now, in fact, Elsrensia measured Addie’s height the other day whilst giving an annual physical – she is now equal to my 187 centimetres. My concentration breaks; Jahrae strikes at my weakness.

“Ah ha, ha ha ha ahh, Jahrae, don’t tickle me!” She is tickling my ribs and I am inordinately vulnerable there, as opposed to my feet – of course, she knows this and this is why she strikes in that precise location.

My turn; I go for behind her knees – look at her squirm!

“No, not my knees, no, llhaesa, no!” After ten seconds, I stop, we both do; we take sitting positions on the floor, our legs stretched out. I am laughing; Jahrae is laughing, everyone is laughing. Someone is taking our pictures…Ronnie! “Ronnie, just you wait, we will get even for those pictures!

Jahrae, look at you, you are all wet, and now I am as well. Whatever happened to you? Did you fall in the lake on the way in? That was quite a clumsy thing to do!” I cannot resist giving a reminder of what started these antics.

“Very funny, ‘essa. You had best be on your guard, because I will get even!” Jahrae threatens, and I know she means what she says.

“Wait,” I protest. “You dunked me last fall, so now we are even!”

“In your dreams; that is not how I see this, my dear. And my opinion is the one that counts. Now if everyone will excuse me, I would like to change my clothing for something less…moisture laden.”

“You wish me to leave? I have to change my clothing as well!”

“You can stay.”

“Why, thank you, goddess of night. By the way, can someone tell us what this party is for?”

“Sure,” M’traliel pounced on the question. “It is spring, this is a beautiful location, all of us have been working hard, and we need to celebrate ourselves and our renewal of life. I am thrilled the two of you got us off to an uproarious start today!”

“I’m glad you liked our entertainment, now shoo!” I hear Jahrae call out to them. M’traliel leads the way, and the others dutifully follow. I get up and close the door, then begin to remove my sopping wet clothing, while Jahrae does the same.

Once our clothing is off, I remark, “How about we go down like this and provide further ‘entertainment, J’har?”

“I bet your brother David would like this version,” J’har quipped.

“May I remind you there is a herd of dykes down there as well?”

“Your point is accepted and well taken.”

I walk into the bath and emerge with two bath towels, one for me, and one for my wetter partner.

“Thank you, ‘essa. I must admit drying off is rather comforting.”

I say nothing, and concentrate on my own towelling off. With this done, I move on to clothing, now unsure if I wish to wear jeans or shorts. I opt for shorts, a light tan pair that are moderately short; I do not like the near knee length ones. Hey, I have a 92-centimetre inseam, and prefer my legs to be unencumbered and free.

Jahrae chooses shorts as well. A good choice, as she has great legs. “Are you ready, oh goddess of beauty?”

“Goddess of beauty? What happened to ‘goddess of night’?”

“You dismissed that term as not acceptable.”

“I see, so you try another and see if this one is acceptable?”

“No, I just tried another on a whim. This one seems more appropriate in the moment.”

Ooh, she likes this response, and rewards me with a hug and a kiss. Am I manipulative or endearing – or both? No matter, I like the result. “Shall we go downstairs, goddess of parties present?”

“You goof!”

She always calls me a goof; ergo, I must be a goof. I have looked at the English definition of ‘goof’, and rather like the ‘cause of amusement’ one. That fits.

We head downstairs and outside, where I spot Ronnie, who has the now ten-month-old Ahrella riding frontpack. I need to check in with my baby, who can now crawl as if the wind is at her back, finding her way into everything she should not touch. A more recent development is her attempt to say words. Will her first word be in Arrhazonan or English?

Ronnie is standing with Khahishra, Anita, Saehressa, and Dottie. The grandmothers have Khahishra and Ronnie cornered. I hug and greet each after first greeting our child. I ask which language Ahrella will first invoke.

Dottie, Saehressa, and Ronnie go with Arrhazonan first, Anita and Khahishra with English.

“How about you, ‘essa, which do you believe will be first?” Anita asks.

“I will let Ahrella choose,” I reply, deadpan. I wink at the same time.

Jahrae joins us, handing me an already opened beer. She pulls a swig from her bottle, while I mimic her action with mine, realising too late she smirks wickedly.

“Ugh, what the hell is in that, J’har?” I call out immediately after spitting the swig back out in a spectacular projectile spray that fortunately misses everyone but makes them laugh. It tasted like Tabasco, and well, I am not big on Tabasco beer. I am making a face of taste-rejection, and I unwittingly make Ahrella giggle, which in turn makes everyone in the group laugh more.

“I added a bit of Tabasco to spice you up,” is her immediate confession. “I should have aimed that spray at you,” is my retort.

Addison, Sérada, and Casey wish to go in the water. I think my sixteen-year-old stepsister crushes on my seventeen-year-old daughter. I hope this crush is merely family bonding; I think it is. I pray it is. Casey is still getting used to girl-life after finally admitting the truth; she will find a very pleasant surprise waits upon reaching Arrhazon.

“Yes, you may go in the water, but Addie and Casey, you two have my direct mandate to watch out for and take care of Serry.”

“We will,” Addie replies, stepping up to smooch me on the cheek. Damn, I cannot believe she is as tall as, and how she looks virtually identical to, me; this is spooky at times. I could probably get away with being her at school, at least in wintertime. Addie hasn’t quite filled out in the breasts and hips to match me – yet.

They are off to change to play in what Jahrae knows is very cool water. I actually like cold water at times; at least I remember liking it on my stay at E’sphara’s Artist Colony. Speaking of E’sphara, I need to ring her, though I will not do this on a party day. Tomorrow.

I move on to greet others at the party; oh, there is Susan Woodward, whom I have not seen in ages; she is chatting with Jamie Collins. “Hello, Susan, hello Jamie!” I excitedly call out on my approach, while my arms outstretch, proffering a hug to each in turn.

After several minutes, Jamie moves on to chat with Vicki, while Susan and I continue to chat for a long while, deciding we need to do Reiki together. Tim asked Susan to teach ‘him’ Reiki, but of course, fate intervened and now ‘I’ am back, one long practising and skilled in the Arrhazonan version, Aailhra. I look forward to this, and if we ask my mum and Jahrae to join in, it could be an excellent session.

I ask Susan if she is interested in joining us for the trip back home. We leave in less than two months.

“Are you serious? I would love to accompany all of you and experience your world. Count me in!”

“I had a feeling you would join us, Susan, which is why I asked. Would you care for another round of refreshment?” I am suddenly playing host, even though M’traliel threw this party. I must be getting territorial!

“I would, ‘essa; I would like to try one of Jahrae’s famous lavender concoctions, I hear they are unlike any other on Earth!”

“You might say that, and I accede to your wishes so long as you spend the night right here.”

“I agree; of course I planned to stay from the first.”

The party continues through the afternoon and into the evening. M’traliel even hired a caterer, and they have served food ever since their first arrival around noon.

The sun is setting, and someone suggests we walk over to the beach and watch the…sun – I must remember to call it that – find its way to the western horizon.

There are around forty of us on the beach looking westward, and initially things were quite animated and noisy. As the sun grows larger through the ministrations of atmospheric illusion, we collectively quiet, watching.

High-level clouds invisible in the brighter light of day suddenly gain visual reality, creating an array of light and dark colouring that enthrals and inspires our beach standing horde. Partners are pairing off, including Jahrae, who slips her arm around my waist. Serry stands to my front, and I have my arms draped over her shoulders, holding her tight. Addie is with Casey, and Ahrella sleeps in our home.

No matter where, seeing a star complete its daily assignment for our portion of the world is always captivating and inspiring, as if on some primal level we pay homage to our celestial roots. My roots may lie with a different star, but I can still find a connection with its sister, disappearing before my eyes.

Arrkarhara – damn, the sun – is gone; our collective spell breaks. Slowly, people begin to move about, now at a slower, deeper, reflective pace, with voices correspondingly lower in volume. Someone suggests a campfire on the beach, and I agree to this, teaming with Addie and Jahrae to bring down the necessary firewood.

Serry wishes to toss the match on the paper to ignite the timeless symbol of human manipulation of nature. I agree, and she does so expertly.

As if someone has given instructions, the pliant group metamorphoses into a roughly circular entity, fire to our centre, as if a newly created beach-bound star around which we choose to placidly orbit, admiring what we fashioned with our hands.

We celebrate our creative inspiration by looking deep into its flickering orange, red, indigo, and white mysteries. The fire bonds with us, choosing politely to send its exhaust directly upward into the sky; nature saw to it there is no wind stirring on this mid-spring night.

I hear a snap, and assume the fuel of our fire calls out one more cracking gaseous release; another splinter of wood separated from the whole.

Sudden movement pulls my attention left; M’traliel collapses sideways into Khahishra. Time downshifts our little pocket of the universe, the universal gears now taking us into slow motion. Everything I see, I process in frustratingly slow increments.

I see M’traliel’s face, she looks as if…I see blood on her chest now, blood that rapidly spreads across her white tee onto Khahishra, while Khahishra’s mouth begins to fashion and emit a scream that pierces through the once serene and peaceful night.

Jahrae calls for everyone to drop to the sand.

I know now.

I scurry off the beach, and once in the shelter of trees, my time resets to normal. I run as fast as my legs have ever carried me, across the lawn, onto the dock, to Chekresu. I bother not with the tethers; I release the door and jump in, the door sealing behind me. I take off, pulling half the dock with me, half of it remaining; it is broken in two, the outward section carried along by Chekresu. I am outraged.

Systems tell me what I already instinctively know: there is a small but speedy craft less than two tenths of a kilometre off our beach, beginning to move away. We never saw it, but I see it now. They saw Chekresu and now speed away.

Three people are on board that boat, each with a weapon that cannot hide their presence from Chekresu’s sensors. They have multiple weapons; AK-47s and sniper rifles. The latter type of weapon is what felled M’traliel. Sensors, running even when Chekresu was not in use, recorded three shots fired, two after Jahrae’s prescient warning to lie prone in the sand.

I am over the boat now, and I fry their weapons, instantly. Their hands are likely not in good shape. I release the tether holding the half of the dock still with Chekresu and it plunges into the lake. I am tempted to sink their boat; I feel a powerful urge push me into vaporising their boat. I wish to kill these pricks even as their boat moves away from our gathering. I am enraged.

The system that would do this is programmed and active, ready to turn three human lives to less than dust. I begin to depress the triggering switch when an onrushing wave of Aailhra sweeps through body, mind, and soul. My dad – it is my dad, and somehow I hear him say to me “no, do not do this, llhaesa, be true to you; please be true to whom you are and to what you believe.”

I pull my hand away from the switch.

“Dad? Dad, I hear you, and you are right. Thank you.” I speak aloud, the spoken words simulcasting my inner thoughts. Goddess, he is right.

I call authorities and advise of the situation. Ending the call, I deploy self-fastening electronic grips onto the escaping boat. They are powerless to stop this, and once the devices signal their attachment and online status, I lift their boat out of the water and rapidly increase forward speed. “Have fun, you are about to make a rapid one way trip to the closest police station, courtesy of me,” I yell out defiantly.

A minute later, I release the boat from a height of three metres, their boat landing with a jarring, bouncing, and rocking thud in the middle of the police parking lot, where officers, weapons drawn and pointed, surround them. I turn Chekresu away and head back for the beach, setting down behind the unmoving group of family and friends.

I run out and through everyone, all stepping aside before my approach, as if they awaited my arrival and believe I must be with my friend. Elsrensia works feverishly on M’traliel, Elsrensia’s face reflecting despondence and despair. She authoritatively commands, “llhaesa, get a gurney off of Chekresu, stat!”

I run again for the craft, releasing the door, climbing in, running through, grabbing the gurney, and running back out. The crowd left a passage through which the gurney floats through to the awaiting Elsrensia.

I fall to my knees and I pray; I pray loudly, I pray frantically. I vaguely hear others join with me.

I pray to Goddess, I pray for my friend, I pray for her life. I pray.

Llhaesa watched this phenomenon unfold, and thought of how it might appear on video. The prospect of how much attention this segment would draw left her silently laughing. Obviously, none of this group wished to have their bare arses, visible to each other in all their beautiful glory, broadcast to the world, but the video equipment worked nonetheless – with their pre-approval.

Once back on Arrkarhara, Jamila would edit the video, distorting and blurring out of focus imagery Arrkarharan standards would not allow broadcast in unedited form, but the scene would convey the essence of what the team had to do in preparation in order to accomplish their goal of walking the lunar surface.

All were women of some accomplishment and varying degrees of fame; a President, a US Attorney General, the president’s Chief of Staff, two astronauts, two ambassadors, a doctor, a former CIA agent turned reiki master, a musician, a columnist, and the host of the highest rated syndicated daytime television show.

The eleven going out to the surface helpfully assisted each other in the suiting process, and stopped before putting on the final piece, the helmet, awaiting further instructions from Jahrae.

Jahrae explained to the team that the pressure suits would change colour depending on conditions inside and out, and should not feel alarm by the colour changes. She continued on into outlining the final step, how the helmet locked in place, how to trigger pressurisation, how to know the suit was ready for outside use – which was via indicator lights just out of the direct field of vision.

They would disembark in three sets of threes and a final set of two, each set entering the hatch that sealed from the inside before pumps removed air from inside that space. Once the hatch was bereft of air, the outer door would retract and those in the chamber could step down one rung, out onto the lunar surface.

Jahrae led the way with the first wave of neophyte lunar wanderers, teaming with Alicia and Carly, with Alicia the first to step down onto the lunar surface and Jahrae last. Ronnie, Kim, and Barbara were second out onto the surface; Marcia, Elsrensia, and Connie were third, and lastly Jamila and Susan, talked through the process via their headset communications, by Jahrae.

The craft had set down right on the terminator line dividing night and day, and so the surface was largely untouched by the rays of the sun, while depending on where they stood, the upper parts of the visitors were in direct sunlight.

Kim and Connie, both geologists and trained astronauts, immediately set out to study lunar rocks and small craters, looking for signs of water. Both carried sample bags to pick up items they wished to analyze later.

Elsrensia kept medical tabs on everyone, ascertaining they were ok in their suiting, while the remainder set out to explore the periphery, looking for things of interest, their suits able to transmit video of wherever they looked, all of it recorded for future reference and use.

Jamila’s broadcast began at 9 am Eastern time, with Jahrae’s helmet videocam transmitting Jamila standing before her, in pressure suit, sun brightly illuminating the upper third of her suit, welcoming her viewers to a special and historical programme.

“Good morning, Earth – or as the world is known to some of our team, Arrkarhara; welcome to a special edition of Jamila Live! For the first time in history, eleven people walk the moon, more than all who have walked before, and this group will walk the moon simultaneously.

Also of significant note is the identity of each of the moonwalkers: Alicia Ellenwood, President of the United States; Barbara Millwood, Attorney General of the United States, and Marcia Paang, President Ellenwood’s Chief of Staff.

Susan Woodward, lifelong friend of the President and Barbara is with us, so too Carly McSorley of City Scribe, a London newspaper, astronauts Kim Chiernenko and Connie Iwo, and Ronnie Lorrie-Salston – the first ambassador to Arrhazon.

Arrhazonan members of the team are Jahrae Khentavra, llhaesa t’yaeli and Elsrensia K’avahra; and finally of course, is yours truly, resident of Chicago, and a birth citizen of Tanzania.

Consider also one common element here: we twelve currently here are women. Consider that it took not three days for us to make the trip here as it did with Apollo, but rather fifteen minutes. Consider what this implies for the future of humanity.

Young women who watch this broadcast, know you can be anything you wish to be in life, that you can strive to achieve in ways others before us were blocked from undertaking.

There will be long spells of broadcast silence; we prefer you hear the chatter amongst us as we go about researching, exploring, and yes, having much fun. After all, one astronaut famously golfed on the moon. We will not be golfing, but we will enjoy ourselves – immensely.

Before we reach that point, Jahrae and llhaesa will provide background on the Arrhazonan space programme.

This broadcast is without commercial interruption by agreement with our affiliates and sponsors who underwrote the broadcast. One of the sponsors is the Two Worlds, A Single Equality foundation, co-founded by llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli, who piloted our landing craft, Chekresu, today. Thank you. And with that, we begin. Jahrae?”

“Thank you, Jamila! We are pleased to bring you this video and audio of the first twelve women, eleven at one time, to walk on the Arrkarharan – Earth – moon. The view from here of your planet is simply spectacular!” Jahrae called out, sounding surprisingly skilled in her informational presentation to the viewing and listening audience.

Jahrae used skill honed in the years after llhaesa was lost, speaking with illegal media, advocating for equality and democracy, and for the foundations she ran. She looked skyward towards Arrkarhara, her videocam zooming in on the blue, white, brown and as the view enlarged, elements of green, ball.

Jahrae started to share information on the Arrhazonan space programme, offering a bit of history. “The engine that enables such long distance travelling such that we could reach your world, or make it from Arrkarhara to here in fifteen minutes, was in fact designed by a woman, L’jaesa Hujorha. L’jaesa not only designed the engine, she discovered and committed to written theory the principles of bi-space physics, building the engine to prove the theory.

This led to a plethora of other uses, notably the communications methodology that allows us immediate contact with Arrhazon.

Women played a prominent role in the design of the equipment we use on board and on the surface here,” Jahrae continued. “The pressure suits we wear are partially the brilliant design of Sanehla Cuanelsor, while Ajeisha X’aelhre designed the basic navigation system for all Arrhazonan spacefaring craft, including Chekresu.”

At this point, llhaesa took over the explanation from inside the craft, a camera on board Chekresu showing her seated off to the side of the main cabin. “A moment ago Jahrae mentioned the design of the pressure suits and the contributions of Sanehla Cuanelsor. Sanehla teamed with J’jelha Ofahro, who is responsible for the organic elements that create a closed, recyclable system in the suit. Together they developed an efficient closed-system-suit capable of sustaining life indefinitely, providing there is access to digestible nutrients.

The nutrient element – the suits also contain a system for their provision, not part of the closed system initially, but become so after the fact, as the suit becomes increasingly efficient with the passage of time. This element is the work of Elohra Kaelkara.

The bio monitoring equipment built into the suit is the creation of Sophlara K’avahra – our teammate Elsrensia’s mother.

Other important devices we use on our mission is our internet, called the Athenaeum, the result of the work of M’nela Reoal, and the clear steel we look through from inside Chekresu – the clear steel is many times stronger than any current Arrkarharan construction material – is from the research of Daesi M’solhae.

Some of the women mentioned are with us still, some are not; but all endured discrimination, were told along the way they were not good enough, not intelligent, and experienced efforts to stop them from pursuing their education, or their research. They faced this discrimination because they were born with a vagina and not a penis, and patriarchy simply had no room for accepting women as equals.

When we expose gender discrimination by shining a light upon it, we can see its insidiousness; we can see the actual damage, and we can surmise the potential damage, where great minds run into interference. When that results, all of humanity loses.

Women of the world – a slight majority on this world, I might add – do not be deceived; do not allow others to dismiss you because of your gender.

Do not accept that others use gender as an excuse to dismiss your views. Do not accept that others use gender as an excuse to devalue your accomplishments. Do not accept that others use gender as an excuse to deny your potential. Do not accept that others use gender as excuse to keep you from your dreams. Do not accept the path others wish you to take because it is an accepted path for your gender.

Do not do anything you do not wish to do that others claim you must because of your gender. Do not accept the boxes patriarchy attempts to push you into and lock you into, to conform to its standards and vision.

None of the women here today would ever allow another to devalue, diminish, or prevent them from their efforts. Look beyond these societal-imposed limitations. Follow your heart, follow your dreams, and reach for your own stars.

Jamila?”

While llhaesa transferred the programme back to Jamila, Ronnie emerged from the hatch, ready to take over inside while llhaesa took her turn outside. “How was it out there, Ronnie?”

“It was a riot! It is so weird to walk along with such extra bounce in your step; it takes getting used to that spring, and adjusting how you walk, holding back leg power.”

“I cannot wait to try!”

“You wished no part of this yesterday, but now you wish to go out?”

“Yes, my mind has come around to the potential for fun in the experience, and I cannot wait to get out there.”

Llhaesa climbed into the suit, which adjusted to her pregnant body, fitting perfectly, as it had with all of the others. Ronnie assisted; within minutes, llhaesa was on the lunar surface, prompting Jahrae to bound over to her wife, and once there, brush llhaesa’s suit affectionately with her own. Jamila captured this scene with her suit videocam, an unspoken display of affection from one partner to another, another moon first.

Invariably creative, supremely talented, and wildly inspirational, Jahrae or any of the others never quite knew what llhaesa might think of or wish to do next. After all, they were here on llhaesa’s inspiration. While most suspected it, no one knew when the next unexpected from llhaesa was nigh, but in this case, the time was now.

“Jahrae, please stand behind me and place your gloves on my hips. Everyone, line up behind one another and behind Jahrae, put your gloves on the hips of the person in front of you.”

Dispersed across the immediate area, it took the group five minutes before all were in line, gloves on hips of the person in front.

“OK, here is what we are going to do,” llhaesa began. “We’ve already had golf on the moon; well now, now we are going to do the first moon bunny hop.” Laughter from ten others dominated the broadcast audio, interspersed with excited comments implying their readiness to try the lunar bunny hop.

“Is everyone familiar with the routine? Tap the surface twice with your right foot; tap twice with your left. Then we hop forward, hop backward, and finally three hops forward.

I suspect we will not get this right on the first try, but this is a team, right team?”

Ten other enthusiastic ‘yes’ responses resounded in llhaesa’s ear and over the broadcast audio.

“If we don’t get it right, we get up and we try again until we do. Let us show the students watching how we can develop a team skill set from no skill set, right here and right now, under extreme conditions.

Ready? Oh, I forgot to mention…I would sing the song for you; we need some inspiration and audio cues to move us after all… ok, back to ready!

Set…” llhaesa began to sing, calling out to her ten like-minded lunar bunny hoppers. “You put your right foot forward…” The eleven began their moves, a disjointed line at once out of synchronisation with one another. When they made the first hop, some stumbled to either side, two to fell to the surface, and several bounded quite high off the ground; all laughed uproariously.

After a minute or so, llhaesa rallied the group for another try, and they dutifully lined up into a presentable line. All of this Chekresu’s cameras captured and broadcast back to the Jamila programme audience, and laughter roiled through homes around the world, with people anticipating the group’s second try.

“Ready?” llhaesa called out. “You put your right foot forward…” This time the moves proved a bit more controlled, though the timing was somewhat off, and on the first hop, everyone stayed connected, though the line bobbed up and down like a snapped and writhing rope, as some still added too much leg oomph into their hop. Things fell apart on the three-hop, with pressure-suited people strewn across the surface, gasping for air as laughter overcame them.

“I haven’t had this much fun in years!” the audience heard President Ellenwood call out amid the loud and riotous laughter.

“Once again, team! Lets get this right, come on we can so do this!” llhaesa encouraged the moon-bunny-hoppers. “OK, my wife is such a bunny hop taskmaster, is she not?” Jahrae called out. “Llhaesa is right; we can do this. Come on, before we start, think this through… where our feet go, how much leg force we use in a hop, synchronise with each other, and follow llhaesa’s lead. Back to you, bunny leader ‘essa!”

“Thank you, Jahrae! Team, are we ready?”

“Ready!” came the call as one.

Llhaesa began the song again, and this time they made it through the entire sequence in synchronicity. The second round found the line wavering a bit, and on the third, Jamila, the tail of the line, bounded up and over Elsrensia, the person immediately in front of her, sluicing into a landing as if planned, between Elsrensia’s outstretched arms connecting to Barbara.

“Wow, you could not do that again if you tried!” Elsrensia exclaimed. As Jamila attempted to move out and back to her position, Elsrensia called out, “no need, Jamila, I’ll take up the last spot now.”

The next try was flawless, with llhaesa leading her team of bunny hoppers on a zig zagging line around the area near Chekresu. Ronnie, inside the ship, laughed the entirety of the time, not quite believing llhaesa and her antics, not quite believing llhaesa had managed to get everyone to participate – and after a fashion, managed to get the team into such inspirational synchronicity.

The team continued for five minutes before llhaesa wound things down, creating a grand finale, which saw everyone make use of the full power in their legs. As the team did so, each bound almost four meters off the surface and in various directions, as if the team had stood on a trampoline and sprung into the air.

Their timing was perfect, allowing Jamila to segue into a closing statement for her show.

“You have heard a tiny fraction of the actual history. You have seen twelve women do amazing things, on a place where less than the number here today have previously been in all of history.

We will follow up on the story in the coming days, explore more of the history, explore more of our antics, and perhaps invite llhaesa to return and perform on our programme.

In summation, gender is no factor, or it should be no factor, in what you wish to do in life, and in whether you are actually are able to do as you wish. We are all equal, and it is time our world recognises and accepts that equality is something we all must embrace as dear to us.

Some question the contributions of women to our world. Connie, Kim? I believe you have something to show our audience?”

The two astronauts came into the camera field of view, each holding what appeared to be a rock of dark and light contrasting colours in their gloved hands. The rocks were irregularly shaped, and approximately sixteen centimetres in diameter.

“Thank you, Jamila. Before we sign off, we wished to show the audience these two items,” Connie began to explain.

“What you see,” Kim picked up where Connie left off, “are dirty rocks – these rocks are a mix of ice and rock. For the first time, we have definitive proof that there is water – in the form of ice…on the southern polar region of the moon.”

“Well folks, chock one up for us, eh? Off to the side of Jamila, llhaesa placed a flag with a big equals sign upon it, standing it firmly in the lunar surface.

Jamila turned toward the effort; viewers at home watched llhaesa carry out this final step in a day filled with a spectacular proclamation of gender equality.

This is Jamila Karenga along with…” each of the team called out their name sequentially, as Jamila pre-arranged, “…signing off from the surface of the moon.”

Bunny Hop lyrics attribution: (Ray Anthony / Leonard Auletti)
http://en.scientificcommons.org/leonard_auletti_%5Bperformer%5D

The day after the Cornwall concert, llhaesa and Jahrae woke to find the sky grey and dreary, clouds as if close enough to touch, with a steady and moderate rain falling.

Their morning unfolded in typical fashion, shower to breakfast to llhaesa practising, while Jahrae worked on learning about the numerous nations that she would call on over the next year.

The beautiful sound of accomplished piano playing reached through the downstairs of their home, the sound the tool of refinement for the player, the sweet and safe sound of confirming presence for the other.

Around eleven, Jahrae tired of staring at document after document, and headed for the great room where llhaesa practised, ready to tease her away from her work.

Unaware of Jahrae’s stealthily closing presence, llhaesa focused intently on her practise, only to startle when Jahrae gently placed a hand on each of llhaesa’s shoulders.

“Goddess of Arrhazon, Jahrae!” llhaesa blurted out in Arrhazonan. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Jahrae removed her hands from llhaesa’s shoulders as she jumped, allowing llhaesa to turn toward the smirking Jahrae. “I am most sorry for that ‘essa!” Jahrae offered, her smile betraying the humour circulating within.

“That smile on your face indicates otherwise, you playful sneak.”

“It’s just that you focus so totally, ‘essa; I could not resist!”

“You focused quite totally on me last night, as I recall. Should someone steal into the room and startle you as you probe the greater part of my body?”

“Serry already did that.”

“That she did! Just remember Jahrae, I shall have my turn at humour as well.”

“As Anderson said at the concert last night, ‘bring it on!’ Speaking of the concert, I was listening to the radio earlier whilst reading – and yes while listening to you as well and working. Anyway, the deejay saluted your mastery of Anderson last night, and marvelled at your talent – he said he had never seen anything like your performance.”

Llhaesa shrugged and remained silent, her point made the previous evening.

“Well, if you aren’t proud of you, I am, and not just because they are singing your praises. Your courage to stand up for what you believe was a huge lesson for Addison. Your grace in how you stood up for what you believe was a huge lesson for Addison.

I think back to the story you tell of the time you and your mum were on public transportation, how she literally stood up and defied a man trying to take your seats away. That was an important lesson for you, just as this was for Addison.”

Llhaesa’s mind flashed back to that moment over thirty years before, the memory vivid to this day. “I agree with you in that regard. In all honesty, Jahrae, you know I have pride in my work, in my performance, and that I have confidence that I can meet a challenge like last night and emerge favourably judged. I do not mean to dismiss your observations.

I guess doing and talking about such matters are different things for me.

Is this why you snuck up on me, to share what you heard on the radio with me?”

“No, I came in to ask you if you wished to go for a walk.”

Llhaesa glanced toward the twin three-metre tall, colonial, round-topped windows that dominated the front of the great room, windows that revealed continuous rows of drippings cascading off the roof and falling past the windows to the ground.

“Perhaps the sun eludes my field of vision, or I look out the wrong windows? If I turn toward the back, will I see bright sun and blue sky?” llhaesa teased.

“You well know I love to walk about in the rain.”

“Am I required to concede that I know this, or can I feign learning of your idiosyncrasy for the first time?”

Jahrae used this moment to set upon llhaesa’s lap, a move that llhaesa welcomed. Wrapping her arms around Jahrae’s waist as she talked, llhaesa outlined what she knew as truth. “Very well, my love, we shall take to the streets of Henna, allow our clothing to sop up as much moisture as they can possibly hold short of jumping into the pond, and come back to lazily sit by the fire, engrossed in our book de jour.

Shall I start the fire now so that it will be warm when we return?”

“I will see to the fire this time, llhaesa, but you know me too well. What you fail to concede is that you love rain almost as much as me.”

Llhaesa smiled and nuzzled her face against that of Jahrae, loving the arousing subtle scent of her partner’s skin. “Shall we brave the rain?”

Within minutes, after Jahrae started a fire in the floor to ceiling fireplace, and each donned light, hip-length coats and hiking boots perfect for raw weather, the couple set out on their walk, striding down the hill, towards the connecting streets of their neighbourhood.

Along for the walk was Pegasus, dutifully keeping pace just slightly ahead of the walkers while not straining on the leash held and controlled by Jahrae. The rapidly growing puppy, already three times his weight when first brought to them by the President, would occasionally stop and sniff, perhaps scanning for a suitable spot for self-relief.

Jahrae was prepared to handle his calling card deposit, her pocket carrying several plastic baggies to clean up after their dog.

Conversation was limited at first as both adjusted to and wallowed in the rain, enjoying the full measure of the experience they had come to love. Once they made the turn off their street and toward the left, heading along a connecting road while they walked along the gravel road shoulder, Jahrae shared an important message that arrived on her mobile earlier in the morning.

“It was from Marcia Paang, asking me to call Alicia. Apparently, they wish to hold a formal state reception for our diplomatic mission, which means official business for me and Jesnsera, and a social event for the lot of us Arrhazonans.

Marcia sort of stumbled around another matter, for I think she sensed it was rather awkward to ask, but she finally framed things enough for me to grasp they would be honoured if you played some at the event.”

“Play? ‘Play,’ as in play music, or play as in play a game.” Llhaesa mused. “Hide and seek, perhaps?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Of course I know what you mean, but has that ever stopped me before, T’srha? I get to call you that now, my dark haired goddess!”

“And I never should have shared my middle name with you!”

“I know better than that, Jahrae, and all teasing aside – for the moment – it bothers me that not revealing the name bothered you, that it haunted you, through all those years. We were young, and then as now we loved to tease, we relished teasing each other. In truth, yours is a perfect middle name, so suited to who you are, to the person I love. Whoever developed the mythology for T’srha long ago, no doubt they had you in mind as they fashioned the story.”

Jahrae stopped and looked for a long moment at llhaesa, her eyes wide and appreciating the compliment, touched by llhaesa’s words. As she did so, Pegasus, his concentration broken by the stoppage, turned to see what could possibly affect their onward course.

“Essa, thank you!” Jahrae finally and enthusiastically responded, in English, her accent with their non-native language seeming somewhat surreal still to llhaesa, who learned English for immersion in the United States, and who after all, in the past conversed with Jahrae in Arrhazonan.

“That does not mean I will forego opportunities to make use of the name, it merely means I love that it is yours, that the name and you are now forever fixed in my mind, both beautiful.

I doubt there are many others on Arrhazon who carry the name; in fact, I searched the Athenaeum a few days ago and found no one in the searchable database. The name is all yours.”

“Which means our child will be the second to have the name currently. I would add that Ahrella is quite an uncommon name as well.”

“Yes.”

The rain wanderers resumed their walk, placating the wishes of the impatient Pegasus, who happily resumed his preferred lead and guardian role. They were along a desolate stretch of road, the roads and homes carved out of one hundred year old forest.

They approached a roadside pond some ten meters wide and twenty in length, dug out when the road was built, expressly for the purpose of quenching a fire if one broke out. Alongside the leading edge of the pond, Llhaesa stopped again, lightly grabbing Jahrae’s arm as she whispered “shhhh,” while pointing to a doe that drank from the pond. The doe, unaware of their presence, continued drinking until spotted by Pegasus, who feeling called to defend Jahrae and llhaesa, called out with a mighty puppy ‘woof!’

The deer scurried away at the call of Pegasus, heading across the road and into the shelter of deep woods. The object of their quiet attention now gone, the rain walkers once again resumed their walk, following the current meandering section of new pavement until they reached a pathway that opened off the road and headed into the woods.

Llhaesa turned off their path along the road’s contour, taking the woods path, catching Jahrae by surprise, but both figured they were already soaked, and so their actual path mattered little.

The rain fell harder now, the water running down llhaesa and Jahrae’s faces, while their hair was sopping wet to the touch, unable to hold additional moisture. Jahrae’s hair curled from the continual onslaught of humidity.

“Thank you for asking me to walk in the rain, Jahrae,” Llhaesa commented, about to take the conversation in a different direction, just as they had with their path. “I know people must think these Arrhazonans daft for being about the neighbourhood without raingear, heading off into the woods, but this is fun, and that fire will be so welcoming when we return!

When is this reception at the White House?”

“In two weeks. Need I say this is a formal affair, requiring formal attire?”

Llhaesa groaned at the thought. “That is just great to ponder, given my current condition.”

“You are not showing yet, ‘essa; what is the problem?”

“I may not be showing, but my clothes grow tighter day by day, and fear what fits today will not fit in two weeks, especially since mine is a voracious appetite lately.”

“You also manage to occasionally lose what you eat.”

“I’ve only been sick twice this week, Jahrae.”

“Shall we shoot for once next week?”

“I would prefer none, but will take one.”

“Do you have a particular destination in mind, ‘essa?”

“Yes, and we are almost there.”

Another one hundred metres found them dropping down a small embankment onto an old closed off road, where remnants of broken pavement remained, evidence of a different use for this land decades earlier.

Looking further, Jahrae saw water – a sizeable pond. “Llhaesa, what is this place?”

“It is a watershed pond, one that feeds into the larger lake in town. Many of the towns in this area draw their water from this watershed, and this is protected land and water.”

Making their way closer to the water, they climbed upon an outcropping of rock some 5 metres in width. Pegasus jumped with excitement, his eyes wide at first sight of a substantial body of water.

“Aww, he so wishes to swim, he is such a Newfie, Jahrae!”

“Shall I turn him loose to test the waters, llhaesa?”

“We cannot, Jahrae – it is illegal for us to do such a thing.”

Llhaesa looked out over the water, her eyes probing the island in the distance, as well as the opposite shore. “Jahrae, I used to come here alone or with the girls, and walk along the old roadway. It is such a wonderful place to relax, and as the pressure within increased, this was my refuge.”

Jahrae felt the pull of words, and she gave in to the greater urge to hug llhaesa, unable to fathom how llhaesa had endured living with such conflict within. The two engaged in a waterlogged embrace, and even in the rain, Jahrae could tell llhaesa was attempting to stifle a cry. “It is ok, ‘essa, it is ok. That time is over, that shell cast away.”

Llhaesa could hold back no longer, her emotions pushed to the breaking point, her tears now matching the torrent of rain that fell upon them. She cried, she wailed, and she felt Jahrae’s embrace tighten, her words of comfort soothing, yet insufficient to stop the onslaught of pain.

They stood in embrace on the edge of the pond, Pegasus sensing llhaesa’s distress, watching her intently in case llhaesa needed his help.

“After the accident,” llhaesa stammered, trying to share what exploded through her mind. “After the accident that injured Susan, I was ripped in two; aghast at the injury inflicted and the harm done, tormented that my body was all wrong, that mind and body were so completely out of sync it caused harm to others.”

Llhaesa paused; force pushing tears back, vainly attempting to stem the flow. “Yet, even with such intense pain on the surface of my mind, I had no idea that things ran so much deeper, that this whole actual vibrant and interrupted life lay dormant within me, locked away by some force, preventing me from access to who I am, forcing me to live someone else’s life.

The last few days of Tim were harrowing, it was as if my mind disintegrated, that I’d gone mad – that is what I thought, what I feared, at that time.

Then the compulsion began. This unrelenting drive for Tim to use skill he did not have, assembling music through tedious trial and error, no doubt driven as the cracks between Tim and my intangible encasing shell widened, pushing him toward music to satiate his tormented soul.

My subconscious was doing this, was handing him the key to take it all down, though I know not how. In a way, Tim sacrificed himself so that I might live.

I could not tell the girls this, explain things quite this way, those final days and moments. Yet Tim reached where he wished to go, and that is to return to life as… me, free.

There was but one winner in this Jahrae, one entity that was better for your pain, Ronnie’s pain, our parent’s pain, our daughter’s pain, Susan Woodward’s pain, and that is the people of Arrhazon. Out of this came democracy and equality, thanks to you. Thank goodness you found a way to forge something positive out of something so destructive.”

Ignoring the now wind driven pelting of the rain, Jahrae felt her own tears trickle downward, though not of the level of llhaesa. These were tears of understanding, of empathy, coupled with a dose of pride for llhaesa’s praise.

Jahrae reached up, her hands caressingly sliding along llhaesa’s face, pushing her dreadlocked hair aside, Jahrae’s touch as if sufficient to feel llhaesa’s thoughts and her pain. Holding her hands along the contours of llhaesa’s jawline, her fingertips wrapping toward the back, Jahrae shared her thoughts. “Llhaesa, I was there to lead because you were with me. You were in my thoughts throughout, and you guided my choices. Your influence was everywhere, and everything I did I tried to do honouring your vision and your dream. Yes, it was my dream as well, but our dreams in that regard, in most of life really, are one.”

Jahrae removed her hands from llhaesa, but their eyes remained locked as she continued. “I thought your suffering over at 10:20 am on that awful first day following our separation; when the message came, it was with such finality. I had no way of knowing you suffered still, your mind raked clear by those heinous thugs as if it were a lawn, your thoughts, your memories pulled to the side, while the thugs embedded artificial memories to take the place of the old.

I had no idea that you lived, and that you endured and would endure such torture of your mind. You are right, the people of Arrhazon won, but both of us bare significant scars for the effort, and the memories that produced the scars will haunt us both at times.

Yet we have something not present six months ago or a year ago or five years ago, at the height of our suffering. We have each other, we have our family, we have the truth, we have our life-victories, and we work to make more.

Your stature grows in my eyes still, just as I know mine does in yours. That is a good result, that is a great result from out of such a sorry affair, I think!

We should head back straightaway, the drying warmth of the fire – and of my snuggling wife – waits.”

Barbara felt Susan’s presence might help the Salstons with the government perspective, help as a friend offering moral support and spiritual assistance if needed, as well as ponder and assess their vulnerability from an intelligence analyst’s point of view.

None of the Salston party was on deck when Susan and Barbara arrived, so when they made their way down into the yacht, llhaesa and Ronnie were stunned to see their friend. Llhaesa wrapped her arms around Susan, technically meeting Susan for the first time – though she carried Tim’s memories.

For her part, Susan looked upon llhaesa in disbelief, although Barbara had well versed Susan on the story. “Look at you!” Susan called out, her eyes visibly assessing llhaesa from head to toe. “Small wonder the gender issues you spoke of tormented you. At least you arrived at a successful resolution; too many are left with no hope.”

Llhaesa smiled and nodded knowingly, understanding a time would come when she would be quite outspoken on rights, from women’s rights to the rights of lgbt people, most certainly including transgender rights. “There is a connection and a disconnection between Tim and I that is hard to explain. I can both feel and visualise the torment as if an observer, even though I lived the experience. Tim was one tormented soul, and well… in a couple of words, that bites.

I will talk on that element at another time, but will just add that this world needs to change how it views the lgbt community. Please excuse my going off on an activist micro-rant prior to extending a proper verbal greeting, hello Susan! What a wonderful surprise to have you with us!”

Turning to Barbara, llhaesa asked, “Barbara, you obviously knew of Susan’s friendship with us, though I am not certain how. Moreover, you have brought her aboard for some reason that I would guess both Ronnie and I are most anxious to hear.” Llhaesa looked to Ronnie as she asked the question, and watched as Ronnie signalled her agreement with a head nod.

Barbara chuckled, knowing this unexpected visit required explanation. “You had no way of knowing this, nor did Susan have any reason to share the connection before, but… Susan and I grew up together. We also happened to grow up as best friends with Alicia Underwood.”

Ronnie looked at Barbara, then looked at Susan, saw the playfulness in their eyes, and she grasped the depth of the connection. “I see. You three grow up together, Barbara you become AG for Alicia, and that means Susan has another revelation coming, if I am not mistaken, though I am of uncertain mind as to what this revelation will be.”

“That is quite an astute observation, Ronnie!” Susan complimented her friend. “In fact, I was a CIA analyst for 18 years, and retired four years ago. Barbara also worked for the Agency after leaving the Navy, and she felt the combination of our friendship and my inner connections with the Agency might help us keep your family and friend safe.”

“An analyst,” Ronnie mused, the fingers of her right hand moving to her lips as she pondered this, as was her frequent habit. “So you weren’t running around in sports cars, parachuting off of tall buildings, getting the girl – oh, wait…that is rather presumptuous, I have been hanging around llhaesa too long!” Ronnie winked as she rendered the last comment, intended as a playful tease of llhaesa.

“No, no fun activity, Ronnie.” Susan began her explanation. “I scoured all manner of sources for information. Sometimes there was interesting reading, sometimes it was boring as all hell, and I felt a pull to a different place in life.

I left the Agency on good terms – most people there do and did good work, and the connections I have might serve to help us at some point along the way, though we have to be careful.

Anyway, enough about my past, lets talk about you and llhaesa and how you are coping. Ronnie, how are you doing? This must have come as a supreme shock – yet I sense you are in a very good place mentally right now. I would love to hear how this evolved!”

“Susan, you do not waste any time getting to a point, and I can see why you were an analyst!” In their short history of friendship, Susan surprised them virtually every time they got together. “The best answer I can give is for you to spend some time chatting with llhaesa. When you do, you will see why it is I am ‘in a very good place mentally.

In fact, come along, you need to find a cabin for your stay. We can talk along the way.”

In reality, the cabins were not that far distant, and they quickly covered the distance, with Susan selecting one of the available cabins on the right side of the yacht. Entering the cabin, Susan again inquired about llhaesa.

“Ronnie, I assume you know I saw something in Tim – something deep, something hidden, something that would likely surface. Well, now I see part of this, now… tell me more!”

Ronnie wished to giggle, but held back and instead offered serious outlook. “The first few days, I was devastated, almost as if I were in shock. Then llhaesa and I had several opportunities to chat, for her to interact with the children, with my mom, with Dolores, with Barbara.

There is no secret here, Susan, because I have told llhaesa this: if llhaesa were not married, I would seriously consider a relationship with her – the attraction to her overall being is powerful. In fact, I for the first time in my life, I would not preclude having a relationship with women, because this whole thing has forced me to rethink my life and outlook.

She is special, Susan – everything that Tim hinted at, or that we sensed Tim hinted at – is llhaesa, it was llhaesa all that time. I will leave it there, and will let you form your own opinion.”

Ronnie, you do know you are a wonderful human being. You have found yourself through this every bit as much as llhaesa has, and well, I find that reason to celebrate! While we chose to forego alcohol when we got together after my release from the hospital, I do believe it is time for Susan Woodward’s District-famous margaritas!”

An hour later, Susan, Ronnie, llhaesa, and Dolores sat on the deck, happily sipping on margaritas – the second round of margaritas, actually.

“Llhaesa, rumour has it you can sing. Will I get to hear your voice any time soon?” Llhaesa climbed out of her cross-legged sitting position on the deck, offering a quick ‘excuse me, I will be right back,” without answering Susan’s question. Less than a minute later, she returned, lugging the keyboard Barbara brought on board the yacht.

“I hope no one minds, but I am in the mood to play, and Susan reminded me. A bit of warning: on Arrhazon, I practised playing six to eight hours a day, and I am woefully out of practise right now. Music calls to me, a keyboard calls to me. When I grow restless, music will satiate my soul.”

Llhaesa ran an extension cord and plugged in, set up the supporting stand, went back for an amplifier and a chair, then settled in to play, foregoing singing for the first twenty minutes. Thereafter she moved into vocals, and let her mood dictate what she played.

For llhaesa, songs were re-entering her mind for the first time in a decade and a half, and she could feel tension leave her body, could sense her body still regenerating, rebuilding its strength and her mental acuity – an element she had not thought on, that she would be rusty as llhaesa.

Susan watched and smiled, satisfied the question on llhaesa’s music no answered without a direct reply. Ronnie was right in her description of llhaesa, was as she sensed Tim in their second meeting.

After llhaesa finished playing, Susan asked if she might chat with llhaesa for a few minutes.

“Llhaesa, Barbara indicated your world is slightly ahead of this one in many ways. I used to work as an analyst on science issues, and wonder if you might share – in general terms, I understand people are trying to pry details out of you, and I could care less about that. I am looking for an overview of a few differences; that should give me enough to work with.”

Llhaesa trusted Susan, aware of how this wonderful woman could have hated Tim with good cause, and instead welcomed him into her home. “Medical care is a good starting point, Susan. We are ahead by decades, perhaps a century. We now engage interstellar space travel – as evidenced by my presence here; here, we barely touched our moon. Moreover, our energy is not fossil fuel based.

In my opinion, the most significant difference is that we are united and free of war.”

True to her stated intent, Jamila set up a crew just outside the CIA grounds at Langley, their express purpose to keep a close eye and record anything that might hint at the Salston case.

For Will D’Orville and Jen Hutchins, two of her employees tasked to this duty of monitoring the site, the work proved tedious, as if tasked to watch paint dry for days on end. Day after day, nothing new or worth reporting unfolded, and they began to ponder the impossibility of actually observing something significant without actual access to the building.

On day eleven of their grumbling and their lack of observing, it all changed. Rousted from their sleep by the noisy passing of three official looking vehicles, Jen woke in time to wipe away the sleep from her eyes and recognise Barbara Millwood, the Attorney General, riding in the last car.

From their distance, and using their camera equipment to zoom in, they watched Barbara disembark from her vehicle, along with perhaps a dozen officers who poured out of the other vehicles. They quickly moved into the building, leaving only their vehicles as a clue to their presence. Something was up, and the observer’s equipment duly recorded their superficial view from the outside, the obvious precursor of more significant events to follow inside the building.

Jen placed a call to Amy, Jamila’s producer, and informed her of the visit of Barbara Millwood. An hour later, she called Amy again, reporting the passage of the same vehicles, this time in an outgoing direction, but with Chris Wilson, National Security Advisor, in one of the vehicles. Moreover, a replay and review of their recording showed someone whom was likely llhaesa riding with Barbara, the two actively and animatedly chatting.

Amy called Jamila and shared the events of the early morning. Jamila asked Amy to locate Barbara Millwood’s office number, and placed a call. Since Barbara was likely preoccupied with what was probably a still unfolding event, Jamila left a message for Barbara to call.

Just after one in the afternoon, Barbara returned the call, managing to say all in one breath, “Hi, Jamila, it is a pleasure to talk to you – I have long been a fan. How may I help you?”

While Barbara inquired, she well knew the likely reason.

“Thank you for your kindness. I have information llhaesa Salston is in your custody. I would like to interview her,” Jamila asked, wasting no time in placing her request on the table.

Barbara felt a twinge of surprise that the action of the early morning could find its way to media so quickly, but there was no sense of denying llhaesa was under her protection and care. “Jamila, I am uncertain of how you know this, but yes, llhaesa is safe and in a secret location. There are those who would do llhaesa harm or at least attempt to exploit her presence and knowledge, and that conduct had to end. I ask you for the sake of her safety, not to reveal what you know.”

“You are setting up a confrontation between you and others in the executive branch, you do know this?” Jamila offered part as question, part as warning.

“Yes, I do, but it is my job, Jamila. I am following President Ellenwood’s express order, and I am also following the law by protecting a human being from harm.” Barbara felt annoyance in talking on the matter, the annoyance the result of the conduct of those who worked against the President’s order and against llhaesa, and not Jamila’s query. “With regard to your request, I will not commit one way or another until we delve into your proposal and my requirements more deeply.”

Jamila felt a wave of relief – Barbara did not give an immediate rejection and excuse; there was hope, and that left her more optimistic than she felt prior to making the call.

“I will go anywhere to conduct the interview, blindfolded if necessary, and will conduct it within a sealed setting – artificial walls that reveal nothing of the surroundings, and me and no one else will hold this information except for me. From this point on, the arrangement is formed by you and I only, no one else. No one will know of this until the interview is complete and I am back in Chicago. Is that agreeable?” Jamila felt it would be, but waited for a response, realising she held her breath as she waited.

Barbara thought for a few seconds, leaving dead air on the phone line. “Jamila, I do not trust this phone line, even if we work to secure it – and that leaves me knowing I have to say no, this is too risky.

By the way, have you ever visited the Lincoln Memorial? I have an idea for a programme, and in order to make up this denial to you, given the timing is right, and since you are on the phone with me, well… this is the perfect opportunity to broach the subject.

I would like to discuss this new programme in person, and think the best place for this is the Memorial. Meet me there in three hours. I am sorry for saying no on llhaesa, but that is as it must be. Please understand, and enjoy your day!” With that, Barbara abruptly cut off the connection, praying Jamila understood what it is she just proposed.

Those who wish to learn the where of llhaesa’s location had more sophisticated technology than Barbara wished to contemplate. Openly committing to the requested arrangement might well lead the way right to llhaesa.

“If this interview is going to happen,” Barbara thought, “it has to happen now, before anyone can react.” Even with such immediate action, extraordinary measures would be necessary to lose anyone tasked to follow her and Jamila.

Hiding someone as striking as llhaesa – standing 6’2” tall, she would not blend in with a crowd, so that meant away from the city and temptations to go out for a stroll. The choices were a country hide out or… what they chose to use.

Jamila heard the call disconnect, and hung up her phone. Her immediate response was one of complete deflation, after initially having her expectations raised. After another five seconds, the reality kicked in. Barbara just gave ascent to the interview, but fearing others listening, arranged a pretext meeting. The more the conversation replayed in Jamila’s mind, the more she believed this was the correct assumption.

Jamila chartered a private flight to Washington – she used the same service frequently through the years, and they were always ready to go on a moment’s notice – they knew Jamila paid handsomely for such prompt service.

Making it to the Lincoln with 20 minutes to spare, Jamila walked around, trying to divert her attention and the anxious butterflies that swirled inside. The diversion attempt lasted about half a minute, succumbing as Jamila realised she would best serve both her and Barbara by looking around for those who might be watching.

At three pm, Barbara casually strolled up the steps, meeting Jamila directly in front of Lincoln. Barbara did not attempt to hide her presence, acting as if she were an ordinary tourist visiting the Memorial, not someone with something or someone to hide.

The two, meeting in person for the first time, exchanged a warm hug, one that simultaneously found a small scrap of paper slipped into Jamila’s right hand. Breaking away from the hug, Jamila strategically took one normal step to her left, using one of the massive columns of the building to hide her cursory look at the paper. She glanced down at the paper and smiled.

The two walked around the monument, discussing a programme on homeless children, and the plans of a new initiative Barbara’s department worked on, word of which already had leaked to the press. It all worked well as a cover for their true intent.

After an hour, the two gave their leave to one another, agreeing to dine at 8:00 pm at a restaurant in Baltimore, with Barbara making the reservation. At 6:45 pm, Barbara pulled up to Jamila’s hotel, finding Jamila already waiting outside the entryway, ready to go. Barbara was relieved; this prevented a need to find parking.

Barbara made her way onto the Baltimore – Washington Parkway, heading for Baltimore. A Toyota Camry followed three cars behind, picking up the chase immediately after Barbara left the hotel, and the tail followed them onto the Parkway. After a while, the first car exited, but another car – this time a forest green Accord – replaced it as a shadow.

At Fort Meade Rd, Barbara calmly spoke of a need for petrol, and exited onto Fort Meade, the tail dutifully following. She pulled into a gas station, the tail stopping at the convenience store just before the gas station, but separated by a chain link fence between the properties. Barbara pulled around the gas station building to the far side pumps, stopped at a pump for five seconds, and then rapidly took off, pinning she and Jamila to their seats from the rapid acceleration.

The tailing car driver failed to notice their move until Barbara squealed back onto Forte Meade, and by the time the tailing driver turned his car back toward the road, Barbara was far enough ahead and out of sight to take the Patuxent Freeway unobserved. She drove the Freeway at 135 kph, and while quite fast, it still was not blatantly noticeable. She risked a ticket, but drivers operating at this speed were quite common, and so she took the chance.

Barbara stayed on Patuxent until it merged onto I97, then followed that route to Aris Allen Boulevard in Annapolis, into the city streets, making her way to the Naval Academy.

Jamila watched this unfold in silence for much of the journey. Not until Barbara shut down the car and they stepped out and away from the vehicle did Barbara speak.

“Being an alumnus of the Academy carries certain perks,” she offered to Jamila, a wide smile upon her face. Barbara made her way to the docks, where a boat lay ready and waiting for her use. “It is such wondrous weather for a December night’s boat ride, Jamila! Let’s take a ride out and enjoy the night sky.”

Jamila laughed, her mind actively pondering the drive and the destination, with the tension of the drive now dissipated and forgotten. “I have to hand it to you, Barbara; you navigated and arranged rather skilfully!”

“That is what comes from working in Intelligence with the Navy, and later with the CIA.” Barbara offered as explanation, stepping into the boat, then holding out her hand for Jamila to follow.

“You worked for CIA?”

“Yes, though that is not on my resume.” Barbara always relished springing this surprise on the unsuspecting but trustworthy. “Jamila, you will meet a friend of mine in a short while, she came in earlier today. We grew up together – with Alicia Ellenwood – and this person is also ex-CIA – except I worked in ops, she worked as an analyst.”

As they spoke, Barbara first vented the engine chamber, and then started the engine.

“The things we do not know!” Jamila marvelled at this unknown history, thrilled to have Barbara share. This was not something Jamila would share on air, an approach to journalism that illustrated why people the world over trusted her.

Barbara skilfully piloted the 28-foot Chris-Craft Corsair out of the harbour, heading for the Bay and a destination 15 kilometres to the south. The Corsair covered the distance quickly, and in less than 15 minutes, they were along side a rather fancy looking yacht.

The boat belonged to the Naval Academy, which used it for many reasons: training, for the president to entertain visiting dignitaries, and for other, more utilitarian purposes in times of war – it could serve as a rather fancy but small hospital ship should the need arise.

Few knew of its existence, which made it a perfect hideaway for the Salston family, now reunited, and associated friends Dolores O’Brien and Susan Woodward.

First Jamila scrambled aboard, then Barbara. Barbara had told Jamila before leaving no equipment was necessary – they had everything she might need onboard. Her first impression came from people gaily singing inside, but her second came from a quick look around.

Jamila startled at the presence of several soldiers, who casually moved about the boat. Barbara was taking no chances with the safety of her passengers, she thought approvingly.

Barbara spotted Jamila looking about, and before they headed in to meet everyone, offered to her “there are at least five boats out there standing guard. Any boats approaching this one best pray they carry legitimate and legal reason to be in this space.”

They made their way inside, where the passengers gathered and sang, naturally led by llhaesa. She shared a simple song with Arrhazonan lyrics, patiently taking the time to teach the pronunciation of something like the fifteen words that comprised the refrain.

Everyone sang, even Anita and Dolores, though Anita tripped up on some of the harder pronunciations that required unusual mouth movements in order to make the sound.

Seeing the two visitors, the singing ceased, and llhaesa rose to meet Barbara and the guest she well recognised. Not waiting for a formal introduction by someone else, llhaesa stepped toward Jamila, looked down into her eyes, the two connecting right in that moment.

Llhaesa stopped moving for just a second, and began the introductions. “Hello, Jamila. This is my family,” she began the introduction, working across the room, her hand showing of whom she introduced. “Ronnie Salston, our daughters Addison and Serada, Ronnie’s mother Anita, Dolores O’Brien, and Susan Woodward. I am llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli, and it is my pleasure to meet you!” Introductions complete, llhaesa stretched her arms outward calling Jamila to an embrace, the two sealing this nascent connection with one hug.

Jamila, who carried the nickname ‘The People’s Voice,’ would one day be called an instrumental player in the history of their world, at once assisting in the saving of llhaesa, and subsequently facilitating the confluence – or perhaps the reunion in one case – of llhaesa and other important players from not one, but two, worlds.

The investigators did not reveal any details of why they looked for this information, but after they left, their questions sent Susan searching the internet. After an hour of searching and reading, Susan pieced together enough of the story to leave her not so much shocked as worried over the well-being and safety of the Salstons.

Susan suspected from their first meeting in the hospital that Tim’s issues ran deep and ran true. After the Salstons brought dinner to her home, Susan’s second impression reinforced her first, leaving her feeling strongly Tim was a sincere human being seriously disconnected from and in search of a core self, desperately seeking to reconnect disparate parts and once again be whole.

Through no fault of Tim’s, some in society and in the government appeared ready to stand in the way of this reconnection. The injury to Alicia – Susan still thought of her friend by the name she long knew her by, rather than the formal title of President acquired three years before – carried impact beyond Alicia’s current condition, leaving the Salstons and Tim in particular vulnerable to forces that would see Tim as either opportunity or threat.

Her day spent alternating between pacing, cooking, reading, and practising Reiki, Susan tried to think of ways she might be able to help. The latest reports gave Tim’s actual name as llhaesa, someone born off world and who fell victim to unfriendly forces wherever Tim – llhaesa – called home.

Susan felt a bit sheepish over not seeing or hearing the acting president address the nation on llhaesa, but she was sick of watching commercial television, and preferred to spend her time with other interests.

Absent a quick and perhaps miraculous recovery by Alicia, the next best hope for… llhaesa would be the Attorney General, yet another friend of Susans. Alicia, Barbara, and Susan grew up in the same town, were friends through high school, and carried that friendship forward to the current time.

Most who knew Susan knew she occasionally helped police by providing psychic impressions on stubborn cases. They also knew she spent most of her time teaching healing energy arts to clients in the southern portion of the state.

What few knew that Alicia and Barbara were well aware was Susan’s past work as an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency. Most people think of CIA employees as someone out of a movie, spies who engage in high-risk activity and live a glamorous lifestyle, but Susan spent her CIA tenure entirely behind a desk as an analyst.

When her life seemed locked into the tedium of day after day of analytical work, when things were at the lowest point of her life – a point akin to Tim a few weeks before – Susan found healing energy, left her position with the CIA after 18 years with the Agency, and struck out on her own.

Eighteen years in the Agency left her with a serious network of connections there still; after all, Susan only left four years before. The question in Susan’s mind now was how best she could use her connections to help. She picked up the phone, and dialled Barbara’s mobile.

“Hi Susan!” came the warm answer to the call.

“Hi there! I can guess this is a rather hectic time for you!” Susan began, knowing what Barbara likely faced with the Salston matter.

“Things went well today, Susan. We have llhaesa in our care and under our protection. We also arrested Kevin Donahue.” Barbara trusted Susan implicitly, and within reason, had no qualms over sharing this information.

Susan whistled while holding the phone at arms length, but the whistle was clearly audible to Barbara. Susan whistled in part feeling relief llhaesa was in safe hands; as well as for the arrest of someone she had a few run ins with in her past. “Kevin! I can see where he might get a little over-exuberant and cross a line.”

“He did, and he was in cahoots with Chris Wilson, whom we also arrested. They were conspiring to obtain information from llhaesa that they could convert into wealth either immediately or over time, and perhaps gain significant power and influence.”

“You arrested the NSA? Whoa! Is anyone else involved?”

“No. No, we do not think so, at least at this time. This appears to be a clear case of personal greed and a reach for power, as opposed to some more widespread plot. I suspect that there are many out there who fear llhaesa, fear the idea of her, fear the reality of her, and they will probably try something nasty before too long.

That is why she is in a secret location, with her family, and very well protected.”

“Watching this from a distance,” Susan observed, “I agree with your assessment. Before long, this world is going to start debating the issue of an alien living among us, and there will be very strong opinions from various points of view.

Have you met llhaesa, Barbara?”

“Yes, and she is a very engaging woman. She has this certain presence… and I know saying that, some will think all these nasty thoughts about deceptive aliens messing with our minds, etc. Well, look at our history – we dehumanise every group we think in our way or we think is different. This presence one feels is along the same lines as what one feels around Alicia – except stronger. It is a function of the fact llhaesa is intelligent, she is interesting, she is courageous – fearless, really; and she oozes empathy.

Under other circumstances, we would be friends, or at least I would welcome being her friend. Under current circumstances – we just might end up there anyway.”

“Careful, Barbara!” Susan laughed as she gave this response, knowing she too considered llhaesa – whom she only knew so far as Tim – her friend.

Barbara turned back to the subject of threat, for she was especially thrilled that Susan called in this moment. “Susan, I intended to call you today, I wished to see if you can keep an ear to the ground at the Agency. If there will be a serious and credible threat in this nation, it will come from a few there who sense personal opportunity or some large-scale threat. They make the vast majority of good people there look bad. If you hear of anything unusual, can you let me know?”

“I sure can, Barbara, and in fact I called to offer to do this.

One more thing, and then I will let you go. I know Tim; if you have not read of it yet, investigators interviewed me earlier today. I consider the Salstons to be friends, and the person I knew as Tim fits well with the person you know as llhaesa.”

Barbara now had a favour to ask of Susan. “Susan, I would like you to come down here. Since you are a friend of the family, as my friend, and as a friend of the President, your assistance via your physical presence here could prove invaluable.”

“OK, if you think I can be of assistance there, I will fly out immediately; there are flights out of Manchester to Washington every hour, and as you well know, it is all of an hour in flight time. I will phone you on arrival.”

“Better yet,” Barbara offered, “I will pick you up at the airport.”

Moments before, Ronnie and Tim left Susan Woodward’s hospital room, one they initially entered with trepidation, fearful of the backlash from Tim driving drunk and seriously injuring Susan – an injury resulting in her hospitalisation.

Instead of facing the expected wrath, Susan chose to speak of forgiveness, of love and light, and actually asked if the Salstons wished to get together after the hospital released her from care – she was concerned about Tim’s well being. Both Ronnie and Tim found Susan very personable and sincere, and readily accepted her invitation. The plan called for Ronnie and Tim to bring dinner to Susan’s house on the following Saturday.

For his part, Tim felt another lesson just passed his way, and he intended to grasp and hold onto this lesson for dear life. “Ronnie, there are days when I feel things I once accepted as givens have morphed into uncertainties or unknowns. My entire outlook is in play, or perhaps is in the process of reshaping. I am resorting what is important, looking for what should guide me. Lately, I have felt so very lost, almost stripped and bereft of spirituality. In the midst of this, along comes Susan…”

“Tim, since when have you been spiritual? We have never ever gone to church, and you have never suggested we go to church. So what gives?”

“On some level inside, it feels like some guiding mechanism suddenly failed – one I’ve taken for granted in the past. I cannot explain it, Ronnie, but when I heard Susan talk about reiki, I wished to learn more. Something inside signalled ‘this is important,’ and I had a sense of awareness of what she was talking about, of having some prior experience with it – yet for the life of me, I cannot understand why. I have never in my life talked with anyone on reiki or anything like it, I have never even heard of it, so how would I feel some prior understanding?

What I do know is, if I am going to find my way through the issues that are mucking up my life, reiki might prove a huge help.”

Tim was sharing thoughts with Ronnie he would not have shared even a year before. Ronnie considered this progress, a nice step in the right direction, something where any improvement felt like a newly discovered goldmine.

She concurred that reiki was a nice pathway for Tim, a way for him to wrap his thoughts around something that would help him focus and find his way through. In the end, Tim had to find his way; this was not something anyone else could do for him. Moreover, there could be no more repetitions of being out of control. One person was lucky to be alive. If not for helping Tim, if nothing else, finding his way would be beneficial to others, most especially his family.

Since Ronnie and Tim were cooking dinner at home and bringing it with them to Susan’s, they decided to prepare something rather simple, opting for a mandarin salad and eggplant lasagne – a recipe passed down to Ronnie by her grandmother. While her mother never cared for it, eggplant lasagne was a favourite in the Salston household.

Ronnie and Tim weighed bringing Addison and Serada to Susan’s, but in the end decided the girls would spend the night with Ronnie’s mum. Both felt the discussion might get rather heavy, something their daughters would find as boring. They both loved staying with their gram, and so there would be no issue with Addie and Serry balking at this option.

Susan called on Thursday to share she was now home, and that she was looking forward to their visit on Saturday. In response to Ronnie’s query, Susan and Ronnie agreed on arriving at 6 pm.

On Friday, Ronnie sent flowers to her home, a nice spring arrangement that would cheer up the most melancholic, though she knew Susan possessed a joie de vivre that rendered this state an unlikely occurrence.

Ronnie’s mum arrived at 4 on Saturday, loaded up the various items Addie and Serry wished to bring, and headed back home. With their daughters gone, Ronnie and Tim turned to dinner preparation, Tim handling the salad, Ronnie the lasagne.

While the lasagne baked, Ronnie showered, chasing Tim away from the television and into the shower as soon as hers was complete.

They arrived at Susan’s more or less on time, each with an armful of dinner dishes and accompaniments. Susan again was gracious, first helping them with their burdens, and after everything was safely on her dining table, reached out to hug her newfound friends.

Each went to work in taking dinner to readiness. The lasagne returned to the oven for a final 15 minutes of heating (Ronnie had deliberately undercooked it). By agreement and common purpose, the threesome would not include alcohol in their get together, precluding any wine as dinner accompaniment.

Once seated to dinner, conversation turned toward reiki. “Susan, I’ve looked online, finding a few websites that explained reiki. As I’ve already explained to Ronnie, I’m very interested in this – I’d never heard of it until we met you.”

Susan smiled, knowing she was as intrigued as Tim was upon learning of reiki. “Perhaps we should give you a treatment after dinner,” she suggested, an offer Tim enthusiastically accepted.

After dinner was finished, the table cleared, and dishes loaded in the dishwasher, Tim stretched out on Susan’s reiki bench, a blanket covering the length of his body. Ready to go, she dimmed the lights in the room. Susan followed her usual protocol prior to giving a treatment, and then placed her hands upon the crown of Tim’s head. She began a repetitive but intermittent chant, her hands channelling healing energy into and then through her body, continuing into Tim.

After a few minutes, Susan, who stood with eyes shut, began to see flashes of colour, and then images passed through.

A half hour passed until Susan brought the session to a close. With the lights back on and Tim now off the bench, Susan shared and explained the various things she had seen during the session. “I saw several music references – especially writing music. There was a boat – a fish, like a dolphin. Oh… there was a rock, a big one, I’d guess 6 feet or more long, 3 feet high, covered with moss, but a very vivid green moss.

I could feel a heavy energy flow toward an emotional – and physical – blockage. That will take many treatments to clear; Tim, you really should do this. The physical blockage is extensive; I have never felt anything quite like it. No wonder you were in that bar on that night, you poor dear.” Susan feared for Tim, and rose to offer a huge hug in encouragement.

This one would be a priority for her, if only he would agree. Susan never charged for practicing reiki, she practiced only among a few friends and family. She would willingly donate her time and effort to helping Tim find his way through this crisis.

What Susan did not know in that moment, what she could not see or anticipate, was what happened after the combined efforts of Susan and Dolores actually began to work. Sometimes a cure could change a world.

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After sorting through his thoughts post accident, Tim came to agree with Ronnie that he needed to visit Susan, this to inquire on her well-being, as well as to apologise for his reprehensible and life threatening conduct.

That morning, Tim stood in the master bath and stared at his reflection in the steamy mirror. What he saw was a fog shrouded disgrace of a human being, one who let his gender issues rip him to such pieces as to leave him incapable of focusing beyond his own being.

Now someone damn near died for his excessive inward-focus. He could not risk this happening again, could not risk ever being a danger to another.

Something very deep-seated, well beyond his ability to find and scrutinise, was calling out for Tim to temper and self-restrict; and so he chose this path.

Tim cried more than once in the days following the accident. Yet the underlying issue remained; Tim was addressing symptoms – a start, but so much still left to fester within him.

Both Ronnie and Tim agreed to make a commitment to communication; no amount of talk was inappropriate or harmful, discussion would be good. They remained faithful to their commitment to talk, and Tim was beginning to let loose some of the demons crawling about his mind-space.

They were on the highway, heading north to the state capitol. Tim began the conversation, explaining in more detail than ever before on how his body was so completely wrong. “I can’t explain it, Ronnie,” he mused, turning his head to look toward the forward concentrating Ronnie “but I know this is all wrong, that this is not really me, who I am. I do not know how or why, but this feeling goes right to the very core of my soul, a soul crying out in self-preservation and scaring the living shit out of me.

The issue is more than just gender. There are other things that intertwine with this – the dreams that produce the screams, the words I somehow understand yet cannot say, they are of no language I have ever heard, of –“ Tim stopped as Ronnie interjected a comment.

“…words you understand and cannot say” Ronnie was taken aback by Tim’s words, and she quickly cast a glance of incredulity towards him before refocusing on the road. “I have not mentioned this to you yet, but you do say such words, I have heard you – in fact, I taped you a couple of days before the accident! Some of those sounds are weird sounding, Tim. You can tell they are not just random noises, because you say them over and over – they are not sounds we make in our usual speech.”

Ronnie signalled to exit the highway, coming to a rest at a traffic light. The light changed, and she followed the diagonal lane across the intersection, heading for the hospital. She resumed speaking.

“What… are your dreams about when these words come up, Tim?” Ronnie felt there was some repressed memory at work here, some trauma Tim might have endured as a child, and she hoped this might be a clue that unravelled things such that Tim properly addressed them. She desperately wished they were at home and not in the car, in order that she might better concentrate on the discussion.

Ronnie hesitated as they were approaching the entrance to the hospital parking lot. The turn made, she stole a glance at Tim and looked for a response, her eyes still primarily focused forward.

“To be honest, Ronnie, I only feel myself standing in some intangible darkness, screaming.”

“You say you understand the words, what do you think you are saying?” Ronnie was trying to cross match Tim’s perspective with her own observations.

“It feels like a name, Ronnie – a name. No faces, no places, no association, no context, as if I’m searching a universe that consists of only one. It is just some random name playing in my mind.” Tim stopped there, seeing Ronnie’s attention divert as she pulled into one of the scarce parking spaces in the hospital parking lot.

“See if you can remember more next time, Tim.” Ronnie responded as she shut the car down while lifting the parking brake, knowing they had to end the conversation for now. “This could be a real key to helping you.”

Entering the lobby, Ronnie walked up to the information desk and asked for Susan Woodward’s room number. Within moments, they were stepping off the elevator and onto the third floor, seeking room 311. Signs easily marked the way, and the two visitors stopped just for a moment, long enough to see if anyone might be in the room with Susan.

No one else was in there, and so Tim knocked loudly and called out her name. “Susan?” he asked inquiringly but with a touch of tentativeness.

“Yes? Come in, come in!” came the reply from the voice of a person hidden around a corner. Tim and Ronnie walked in slowly. Susan sat upright in the chair beside her bed, obviously sitting straight and tall to avoid pressure on her injured ribs and laceration.

She looked at Tim and Ronnie quizzically, obviously not knowing who they were. Tim moved to rectify this. “Susan… I am Tim, and this is my wife Ronnie… Salston. I’m the person who struck your car.”

Susan’s face changed to one of recognition, then one that reflected how she was processing and weighing this information inside of her. “I see.” She finally responded. Her eyes dropped downward, and it was obvious the memory was painful, though there was a look of great concentration upon her rather pale coloured face.

Tim spoke again. “I came to see how you were, and… to apologise for what happened. My conduct was reprehensible, and I do not give a damn what my attorney would say. You need to know I know this was wrong, that I damn near killed you, all for having a few beers and drown out my problems.

I will address my issues, I will plead guilty, will give up my right to drive for a long while, and pray every night for your well-being.

Susan could see, hear, and feel Tim’s sincerity. “Funny thing is, Tim… one of my hobbies is working with psychic phenomena. I have helped local police on a few cases, and tests have shown my empathy level is quite high. I… can feel your sincerity; it flows from your soul. You were a healer of some sort in another life, a facilitator, someone who brought people together, who inspired, something along those lines.

I am also a Reiki practitioner, and I will send healing energy to both of us, for both of us. It took remarkable courage to walk in here – else you are incredibly stupid – at that, Ronnie nodded and she and Tim both laughed. Susan tried to laugh, but immediately winced as her ribs reminded of the injury.

Tim had never heard of Reiki, and so curiosity got the better of him. “Susan, what is Reiki?”

“The official or unofficial explanation?” Susan asked. Officially, a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that promotes healing. I will leave it at that! If you wish to know more, there is a lot of information on the internet.” Susan did not believe in promoting her beliefs to others, better they found their own path spiritually. She then changed the subject. “I’ll be leaving the hospital tomorrow. I’d like to invite both of you over to my home when I feel better, have you over for dinner. Tim… you are deeply hurting, and if you are willing to share, I wish to hear.”

Tim and Ronnie looked at Susan, looked at each other, and both thought of it immediately. “Susan,” Ronnie spoke now “How about Tim and I prepare dinner for all of us, and we will bring it over to your home this weekend?” It was Tuesday, and Ronnie was confident that by Saturday, this would work for Susan.

“We can do that, it sounds lovely!” Susan acknowledged.

The three chatted for another hour, until it was obvious Susan was fighting off drowsiness. They exchanged goodbyes, with Susan adding one final comment. “Tim, I know you feel awful, and quite frankly, what you did was at once dumb and dangerous… but I understand there is something deeper at root here. I am not so shallow that I can ignore this and wallow in my injury. What is done is done, now we work on healing.”